Jefferson rattled the handcuffs against the rusty drainpipe for the hundredth time before finally collapsing onto the tiled floor. He had been chained to the wash basin for hours; his legs had etched sweeping patterns on the dusty tiles and his left wrist was sore and bleeding from trying to rip the basin from the wall.
His initial joy at having outsmarted the Twins had proven premature. After he'd exposed Juliet Watson as one of Rachel's allies, Maja thanked him before stating they needed a guarantee. She then cuffed him to the sink's drainpipe before heading off with her brother to Blackwell Academy. "Remember," she said, beaming at him, "if we come back empty-handed, Alrik will rip your head off and throw it into a cesspool."
He had spent the whole night in terror, occasionally passing out on the floor from sheer exhaustion only to dream of the Twins returning, enraged and ready to enact their revenge. Each time he woke from micro-sleep was a mini heart attack, which he followed with another desperate escape attempt.
But the pipe held fast. He was shit out of luck; it was clear that he was going to die here in his new Dark Room.
He was sure it was already dawn when the front door opened again, and heavy footfalls echoed through the bunker's entranceway. Fuck it, he thought, sitting up and trying to control his racing heartbeat. If I'm going to die, I might as well go with some dignity.
Regardless, his breathing turned ragged as Maja stepped into the main room, Alrik ducking his head through the doorway to follow her. The woman gazed at Jefferson through the open bathroom door, both her grin and her sunglasses gleaming beneath the overhead lamp.
"Well, well, Mr. Jefferson. I trust you amused yourself while we were gone. We certainly have."
His breath caught in his throat when she walked into the bathroom and crouched in front of him. "I've told you everything I know," he began. "I swear—"
"I know you did," enthused Maja. "So it's time we returned the favor."
Jefferson closed his eyes as she reached into her jacket. The seconds that ticked by were the longest he'd ever known.
Click.
His eyes flew open as the handcuffs fell from his arm. He sat there in numb surprise, rubbing the raw skin of his wrist.
"Our mutual friend, Juliet, how do you say, 'spilled the beans' on the conspiracy," Maja said, pocketing the cuffs. "Long story short, we know who has the laptop and we'll recover it in a bit. You have our gratitude, Mr. Jefferson."
He nodded, wisely keeping his mouth shut. Maja moved to sit at the edge of his desk. "By the way," she said, favoring him an icy smile. "We kept our end of the deal. The bitch is dead."
Again, Jefferson could only stare. He had stated his request to get rid of Juliet for ruining him, but he never imagined they would succeed—or even attempt it. "How?" he asked.
"Oh, you might read about it in the papers." She laughed at her own joke.
So this is what it's like to be in a room with a crazy person. "What happens now?"
"Now? Well, now my brother and I should rest and wait. I think we're going to have a busy day tomorrow." She glanced knowingly at Alrik. "Quite busy."
"As for you, well..." She regarded him for a moment, and the wariness returned to Jefferson.
Abruptly, Maja said, "Alrik, would you mind doing a final check of our gear in the car? Make sure we have everything we need for the extraction?"
The giant stiffened as he stared back at his sister. A silent message passed between the two. After a moment, Alrik curled his lip, turned on his heel, and marched out.
His departure helped ease Jefferson's frayed nerves. He struggled to his feet as he eyed Maja, who ignored him and walked to the other side of the room. She removed her coat and flung it onto the back of the plastic chair. His lips fell open as her necktie followed. Then she started unbuttoning her shirt.
Maja caught him staring and arched an eyebrow. "What are you waiting for? Take your pants off."
"I'm sorry?"
"You heard. Do it. And don't worry." Dropping her shirt on the chair, she slunk toward him, wetting her lips. "The shades stay on."
When they finished half an hour later, Jefferson was panting, his sweat sticking his bare back to the concrete floor. He raised his head to see Maja getting dressed and, to his relief, humming a tune to herself.
He felt used, like a wrung-out mop left to dry. But he was alive and unscathed. He decided there were worse fates.
"If you don't mind my asking," he began, "what was that about?"
She glanced at him as she straightened up her tie. "Not used to a woman taking what she wants, Mr. Jefferson?"
He sat up. "I haven't met a woman like you before."
"There aren't many like me." She slipped on her jacket and approached him, handing him his pants. "It's not obvious to you, my dear, but my brother and I threw down the gauntlet against the last, most powerful Incarnate we've ever known. She is a threat like no other."
Jefferson pictured the frightened face of little Max Caulfield and smiled inwardly. Hardly.
"This will be our last battle," Maja went on. "If we win, it will be a total victory for Dionysus. If we don't, well, at least I can say I've had a good time in America. Either way—"
Her phone started ringing and she paused to pick it up. "Yeah?" She listened for a few moments as she walked in a slow circle. "Alright, thank you. We'll take it from here."
She put the phone down. "The Sheriff failed to get the laptop." She shrugged and her hyena smile returned. "Oh well. One extra step won't matter. Anyway, as I was saying, either the Incarnate or her little friends will try and hunt you down, so I suggest you leave town and not look back."
Jefferson nodded. "I'm free to go, then."
"It's up to you." Maja kissed him on the lips before sauntering toward the exit. "I don't advise staying. Things are bound to get messy—you don't want to get caught up in the coming storm. Takk for alt, kjære." Then she was gone.
Oh, I'll go, alright, Jefferson thought as he picked himself up from the floor. But not before I catch my quarry. And by the time you find out who's who, Dionysus will have to pay her weight in gold.
He knew he would succeed. There were only so many places Max Caulfield could stay in Arcadia Bay.
Chloe woke to a chill on her flesh and realized she was alone on her cardboard mattress. She had fallen into an exhausted sleep a few hours earlier, spooned against Max's smaller body. But now she was gone.
Pushing back the cobwebs in her brain, she raised her head and looked around. In the dim light, she saw Lulu was still asleep, faced away and curled up on their makeshift couch. Max was nowhere in sight.
Chloe staggered to her feet. She's probably just outside, came her thought. She's the early riser, after all. But after what happened with Tuhudda's family, Chloe wasn't taking chances.
She lurched to the doorway into the pre-dawn light. Dark clouds blotted out the sky and the heavy air promised rain. Chloe sighed in relief to find her girlfriend standing next to the abandoned tugboat, staring at the phone in her hand. "Max?" Chloe called to her. "Something up?"
Max didn't turn around at the sound of her voice. Chloe's gut tightened; even from here, her best friend's skin looked ghost-pale.
"Sorry," Max said, pocketing her phone. "I didn't want to wake you."
"Max, what is it?" Chloe closed the distance and laid her hand on her shoulders. "Did something happen?" To Rachel, she nearly added.
"I just spoke with Rachel." Max shut her eyes and swallowed hard. "Chloe…someone set fire to Juliet's dorm room. She's dead." Her voice broke on the last word; her face crumpled into her hands.
A thrill of horror raced down Chloe's spine. She cocooned Max in her arms, seeking her warmth and offering her own. Last night, the threat of the Twins seemed one step behind them. Now it was creeping closer to home. Juliet was one of them, fought for them, and believed in their cause.
Even so, a small, guilty part of Chloe was relieved that the target wasn't Rachel.
"Don't blame yourself," Chloe murmured, kissing Max's hair, "No matter what, this isn't your fault."
"I came back and this is what happened," Max said.
"Shh, hey. Hey. Look at me." She turned her around to wipe her tears away. "I'm alive because of you. Rachel too. And most importantly, you're still alive. And for as long as we're here, there's hope."
Max let her pull her close, resting her head against her chest. "I want to mourn her," Max said. "But I can't, not right now." She wiped her eyes and stepped back, taking Chloe's hand in hers. "You're right. We've got a job to do."
"Where are we going?"
"To get everything Lulu needs for her ceremony. And if it works, maybe I can save everyone. I have to try." She turned and led Chloe towards the truck.
The look on Max's face quelled any doubts Chloe had. She'd never seen her so determined. This is the kind of will that made her go back in time, and fuck it all, when she's like this, she's as strong as Rachel.
Rachel. Chloe frowned at the desolate sky and said, "Max, where's Rachel now?"
"She said she's helping everyone move out of the dorms. They'll be staying at the auditorium."
"Could you call her? She should be here."
"Oh, right. Someone should keep an eye on Lulu." She picked up her phone and dialed as they walked. Moments later, she turned to Chloe, her brows furrowing.
"That's weird. It went straight to voicemail."
Sean Prescott got the call in the wee hours of the morning. Being a light sleeper, he opened his eyes at the first ring, and he was answering by the second. He immediately knew something was wrong the instant he read Ray Wells' name on the screen.
"What happened?" he said.
Through a series of fits and starts, Wells narrated the events at the school. Sean listened without interruption, then asked if the police had any leads.
"Sheriff Skinner mentioned no evidence of foul play but investigated one of the students, Brooke Scott, on suspicion of possessing a stolen laptop."
"Skinner came himself?"
"Yes, he did."
"Did he find it?"
"No."
"Alright." Sean heaved a sigh. "Thank you, Ray. You've done well with thinking of the students first. I'll speak with the board. The Prescott Foundation will provide for them while they're on campus. In the meantime, try and get some rest."
When he hung up, Sean got up to stare out his window, turning the facts over in his mind. The timing of the incident and the arrival of the Sheriff indicated this was the work of the Twins. God, those two were turning his town into a shithole and he was powerless to stop them.
But the viciousness of the murder showed more than just an attempt to catch the Incarnate's attention. It smacked of vindictiveness. Who would want her dead? The answer, of course, was Jefferson. So, the Voldens had managed to find him after all, and if they hadn't killed him, he was likely hiding somewhere nearby. Sean shook his head, angered that that lunatic had managed to slip through his fingers. Now that the Twins had him, what further damage would they do?
But that particular worry was for later. If the Voldens had agreed to kill Ms. Watson, it was likely because she was an ally to the Incarnate to begin with. Which meant that witch was now out for blood. And who would she come for first?
Time had grown very short, indeed.
The first thing he did was call Caroline in Florida. When she picked up, he told her what happened and asked her to organize the Board's response.
"Is Nathan alright?" she asked.
"He's fine. He wasn't at the school when it happened."
"That's good. I'll reach out to her parents, then catch the first flight to Oregon."
"No," he told her. "Please stay in Florida. I'll call you when I need you."
"But I can do a lot more good if I'm there!"
"I'll handle what I can from my end. Coordinate with the Board from Florida and keep me updated."
"Well...if you're sure. Please give Nathan my love."
He put the phone down and his thoughts strayed to his son. Would he be safe at Blackwell? Normally he would get Skinner to find him and drag him back home, but Skinner at this point was as useful as a glass hammer. No, the school is safer than here, given I'm the target now.
All that was left was to prepare for his guest. And the first step was to choose the battleground.
As he got up from his bed and made his way to his walk-in closet, he reflected on the path that led him here. Knowing what it meant to get caught between the Incarnate and Dionysus, Sean had long set his affairs in order. The succession wouldn't be as tidy as he would have liked. His wife was too soft-hearted, Nathan too weak-willed. His only hope was that Kristine would get over her resentment of him after his death and come home to take over their businesses. Otherwise, well, unless he turned things around, his family's fortunes would truly end with him.
Trading his sleepwear for jeans, hiking boots, and a grey polo shirt, he reached into the very back and found something he hadn't worn in a long time—his father's bomber jacket. With a grim smile, he slipped it on. The last time he wore it was the day Kristine was born, one of the few times he remembered being truly happy. Perhaps today it would lend him the same luck.
He let himself out the front door just as the eastern sky began to blush, fingers of light reaching up as the dawn tried to peer over the mountains. He stuck his hands into his pockets to ward off the chill and started walking. Moisture gathered onto his boots as he crossed the lawn, passed through his front gate, and followed the dirt path into the woods.
Is she watching me now? he wondered, hoping he could at least make it to his destination before she tried anything.
He sighed in relief when, after fifteen minutes of walking, he spied the pond around the bend. He hurried over, his breath coming out in puffs of fog, and came to stand on the little wooden dock at its edge. Beside it was a tiny metal plaque that read:
Harry Aaron Prescott
June 5, 1926 - August 12, 1966
Our hearts weep forever
As he knelt to pluck some weeds from the plaque's face, a sudden rushing wind knocked him to the ground. From above, a female voice shouted, "Sean Prescott!"
He looked up, up to where a young woman in jeans, sneakers, and a plaid shirt hung suspended in the air some twenty feet above. In the high breeze, her untucked shirt flew like a red flag. The cold light of the overcast sky did nothing to dull her blonde hair, and the blue feather made her identity plain as day.
"So," he said, shaking his head. "It was you all along. I might have known this land would take our best from us."
"You know why I'm here," Rachel stated.
"I guessed." He struggled back to his feet. "Juliet Watson was a friend of yours, I presume. What happened was a tragedy. She never should have died."
"It was you who ordered it!"
"No." He spread his hands, showing his empty palms. "I've done many things. Ordering the death of an innocent girl is not one of them. That was all Dionysus."
"You expect me to believe you?"
He dropped his hands to his sides as he scrutinized her. "We've never really talked much beyond pleasantries, have we, Ms. Amber? We don't know each other well. But I know your father. He's an admirable civil servant, a man of grit and character."
"Shows what you know."
"I met him the other day and we got to talking about our families. He confided in me that the two of you were going through some problems. I said to him, 'children bring trouble the moment they're born, but there's nothing we wouldn't do for them.'"
"Don't talk about my father!"
Her voice boomed and the clouds above her lit up with hidden lightning. But Sean did not flinch.
"Very well," he growled. "Should we talk about mine then?"
He swept his arm around the dock. "This is where it happened. Do you remember any of it? This was where my father stood and pushed our boat that carried me out into the water. Then he stood between me and you—a lone, powerless man. And you burned him like a matchstick."
"I. Don't. Care."
He wasn't ready for the whirlwind that grappled and lifted him like a child picking up a toy soldier. The deafening gale froze his skin, but he forced himself to ignore it. "Spoken like a true god," he said as she brought him to her eye level. "All I ever wanted was to be rid of you."
"You killed Juliet."
"I already told you. The Twins orchestrated it."
"You brought them here!"
"That was never my plan. I intended to use Dionysus' tools against you, never to get them directly involved. But someone stole the laptop from my property to inexpertly hack into their system. That alerted them."
"Shut up!"
The burst of anger within him took him by surprise. "If you don't believe me," he snarled, "then what are you waiting for? Just get on with it! Or is your plan to moralize me to death? I'd rather die than be judged my father's murderer!"
Seeing that his outburst had taken her aback, he pressed the advantage. "Go on. Burn me like you did him—it doesn't matter. I take consolation in that, no matter what you do, Dionysus will kill you, but not before they make everyone you love suffer first!"
There it was—the hint of fear in her hazel eyes. Sean had been waiting for it.
"Call them off," Rachel demanded.
"I can't. They don't take orders from me."
"How do I stop them?"
"Oh, now you want to talk?"
"I'll kill you if you don't!"
"You and your petty threats. I told you—I can't stop them. All I can tell you is what I know of them."
This is it, he thought as the silence settled around them. Whoever speaks first, loses.
"Then tell me," Rachel demanded.
"Put us down and we'll talk." When they stayed where they were, he groused, "I want us to hear each other without shouting. I don't have the energy to keep raising my voice. Put us down, if you please!"
After a moment, Rachel relented. The whirling air gently lowered them to the ground. Relief filled Sean as his boots touched the grass once more. "The Twins were not exaggerating," he said, straightening his sleeves. "You're indeed as powerful as they say."
She watched him with fists clenched and her eyes narrowed to slits. "Why should I believe a snake like you?"
"It takes a snake to know one, doesn't it? I am a probationary member of Dionysus. I know many of their secrets, particularly about their enforcers. You want to beat them? You need to know how they operate."
"If you lie to me—"
"Ms. Amber, think. I have no reason to lie. My life was forfeit the moment Dionysus found out about that laptop. Thanks to you, they learned that I stole their secrets. I am in as much danger from them as I am from you, and between the two, you're more likely to listen to reason."
"So you're suggesting we team up, is that it? Not really my first choice."
"And my first choice is to avenge my father. We don't have the luxury of choosing. Listen to me and you might win. Don't, and you damn us all."
"What do you get out of this? Don't tell me you want me to spare your life. That's not really on the table."
He sighed. "My life is bigger than you think. I care about my legacy. I care about what happens to this town. If Dionysus had their way, they would carve it up and spread it among their members—what's left of it after the Twins are done. No." He shook his head. "My family's destiny is intertwined with Arcadia Bay's."
"I don't doubt."
"This town is my legacy—as is my son. If you defeat Dionysus, you'll keep this town from falling under their control. It will give Nathan a reason to go on, even without me. So I want your word—save Arcadia Bay and spare my son."
She thought it over, then said, "Fine. If he leaves me alone, I'll do the same."
Sean nodded, satisfied. "Ask your questions."
"First—what is Dionysus?"
Sticking his hands into his pockets to warm them, Sean slowly paced around the dock. "They are people like me," he said, "who have grown tired of people like you. And unlike me, they have succeeded in ridding their domains of Incarnates."
He watched her face. "Ah, you look surprised. You didn't know there were others like you, did you? Well, they're gone now. Dionysus has taken them all."
"Are they a cult?"
"Yes and no. A cult worships a deity. Dionysus is quite the opposite."
"Do they all have powers?"
"Not that I've seen. Only their enforcers, the Twins, have exhibited supernatural abilities."
"What else can you tell me?"
"Dionysus has existed since the 1890s. All their members are staggeringly rich and powerful, the secret kings and queens of this world. You'd know them if you saw them. They're led by a man named Henrik Morten—he controls an international distillery corporation."
"And Dionysus can kill Incarnates?"
"Yes. It's the reason they exist."
"Why? Why do they do this?"
He stopped to look at her. "Why do you think? Why do I want to kill you? Because you're a threat to me and everything I hold dear. Every Incarnate demands that those who live on their land abide by their rules. Anyone who doesn't is done away with. Do you think any person of means and power would agree to live that way? Do you think they would let you suffocate them? No. They won't be ruled by a god. They'd rebel."
"This makes no sense. Even if an Incarnate is killed, someone else inherits their power. You can't destroy them forever."
"Dionysus has found a way."
"How?" She paused, thinking. "The Theater. That's what it's for, isn't it?"
"The Theater is part of it. I'm not sure how, precisely. That was information I hoped to acquire using the laptop you stole. As I understand it, a Theater has certain properties that can hold an Incarnate."
"...So it's a specialized Dark Room." Rachel's forehead wrinkled in thought. "What's a Bacchanalia?"
"Another mystery. As a probationary member, I was never invited to witness one. It was another piece of information I was supposed to obtain."
"You're one of them. Why would you betray them?"
He sighed and sat down on the wooden post next to his father's plaque. "After I took care of your predecessor, Mr. Morten approached me. He had been looking for people like me, families who had been victimized by Incarnates. He said it was only a matter of time before another version of you took over and I would be in the same predicament as before. He offered me friendship and explained what Dionysus could do for me. All I had to do was inform them when you finally appeared, and they would take over."
"But you didn't."
He gazed up at her. "This is our business—yours and mine. I wanted Dionysus' tools. I didn't want them directly involved.
"I got hold of one of their engineers and convinced him to build me a Theater I could use. He completed the task, but after his laptop was stolen—" Sean shrugged. "Dionysus stepped in to police my efforts. And that, I fear, led to the tragedy with Juliet."
Rachel was silent, her fists clenching at unclenching at her sides, filled with sorrow and righteous rage and nowhere to direct it. And though he hated even the sight of her, for an instant, Sean was reminded of Kristine.
Finally, Rachel raised her head and said, "Last question. What do you know about these Twins and how do I fight them?"
Sean spent the next ten minutes detailing all he knew of the Voldens' powers, personalities, and tactics. When he finished, he said, "Remember this: Maja will try to get in your head. She'll hurt the people you care about to make you act rashly. Fight her and her brother with a clear mind, or you'll lose."
When Rachel nodded, Sean stood up from his seat. "Then we're agreed. I'll leave my line open. If you have any further requests—"
"Yeah." Rachel's eyes flashed. "You can cut the crap."
Sean blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I know you're lying to me."
"Don't be absurd. I already told you, I have nothing to gain if you—"
Her single step toward him made him fall silent. "You said you don't know me, but I know you. My dad often talked about you as a consummate businessman with a keen eye for risk and reward. And now you're telling me you constructed the Theater without knowing what it's for and how you can use it. That's a lie, Mr. Prescott. You know what it's for. And you're not telling me because you want an ace in the hole, one last weapon to use against me.
"I can see it in your eyes—the hate and hunger for revenge is there every time you look at me. You can't hide it. You want me to fight Dionysus so you can weaken both of us, then you'll take on the winner and come out on top. You're hoping that winner is me, so you can destroy me yourself. So I know I can trust what you said about the Twins, but nothing else."
He gazed at Rachel, speechless. Then his balls clenched hard against his groin as the winds carried her back into the sky.
"You brought that murderer Jefferson to Arcadia Bay. You allied yourself with Dionysus. You have blood on your hands. When I came here, I promised myself I would end you. And that's what I'm going to do.
"The Prescotts are done in this town. From now on, you have no businesses here. You have no properties. You own nothing. Once I've finished with Dionysus, I'll wipe every trace of you from Arcadia Bay. So do yourself a favor: leave. Leave now and don't come back. I suggest you spend more time being a father to Nathan, so he doesn't become a fuck-up that Jefferson can toy with.
"This is all the mercy I'll give you, Sean Prescott. If you ignore this, if I find you still here after I've dealt with Dionysus, I swear on my mother, you'll burn along with your Theater."
A sudden gale swept through the meadow, nearly knocking Sean into the water. Finding his balance, he raised his eyes to find an empty gray sky.
Fury filled him. Anger at this girl who threatened everything he worked so hard to build—and at his unexpected weakness before her.
But I'm alive. I have a chance. That's all that matters, and I'm not going anywhere. This town is my family's legacy. This land belongs to me.
Tearing his eyes away from the clouds, he retraced his steps back home.