Kalon fought her way into the crowded salon. She murmured apologies for stepping on toes and jabbed elbows, each time getting more and more irate. She threw herself against the counter like breaking from drowning. Her long, brown curls were disheveled with her hair clip dangling uselessly in the tangle, caught in the solitary royal blue streak.

“It’s mad in here!”

“I’m aware.” Strauss bounced her baby girl on her hip, shushing her as she gave the crowd an irate stare. “I told you lot to clear out! We’re closed!”

“Good business though, right?”

“Hardly! I only had two or three actual customers all day. The rest of those hens were just tagalongs to sit and gossip with them. I swear, each woman brought half a dozen friends in with her.” Strauss’s glare deepened as she let out a long groan. “Hold Isabelline a tick.”

Kalon took the baby as Strauss circled around the counter, grabbing her broom. She had the baby girl watch her mother chase the gaggle out with great sweeping motions for a second, ensuring she was calm, before carrying her off to the backroom.

Mal sat in a playpen, studying plastic scissors. His head jerked up as Isabelline whimpered. He scrambled to pull himself up, his blue eyes tearing up as he opened his mouth to reveal three bottom teeth.

“Maaaaa!”

“Shush, Mal, I’m right here.” Kalon awkwardly dipped to keep Isabelline from Mal’s grabby hands while also rubbing his back. “Shh, I’m here. Just wait for Auntie Strauss to fetch Isabelline.”

Strauss appeared just as Kalon finished her statement. She still looked agitated but happily plucked her daughter from Kalon’s arms.

“Your hair is still a state.”

Kalon twisted her curls into a knot, clipping it up. She pulled Mal from the pen, resting him on her hips.

“I'm sorry to keep dropping him on you when you've been so swamped.” She stroked his brown hair. “And while he's cutting teeth.”

“You must stop apologizing each time you fetch him. It's safer here than at the library right now.” Strauss smirked. “And I'll remind you, often, that you agreed to take Isabelline for just as many days once she’s teething.” Her smirk waivered. “How was it at the library today?”

“Gramps shot a person. Not fatally, of course, but it sets a tense tone all the same.”

“Mrs. Gousa still hasn’t put forth her summary, I take it?” Strauss groaned at Kalon’s head-shake. “At least when that old First Son popped back up and died, it was sudden. I had just a week or so of madness, and that disappeared as soon as Mrs. Gousa put forth her summa.”

“There was no gossip beforehand as well.”

“Exactly! And, with that being a United Americas thing, we have a removement from it all. It was a proper spectacle we could gawk at. But this!”

Strauss burst into tears. She cradled her daughter, trying to comfort her as she started whining in distress over her mother’s outburst.

Kalon took Mal’s chubby hand as he pointed, open-mouthed. She kissed it, swallowing the lump in her own throat.

They took a few minutes to apologize and comfort each other for the emotions and the distress to the kids before Kalon left with Mal. She adjusted him on her hip frequently as they headed towards the library; her mind wandering off to the reasons for the chaos, trying not to think too hard on it.

The official announcement that the Paris Colony heir would be a father caused great excitement for the following five months. It had been busy at work, but an enjoyable sort where there were constant pauses to speak theories and hopes with those visiting the library. Everyone had been in such a joyful mood that no one even attempted stealing or vandalizing. This mood turned completely celebratory once the baby girl was born; cafes offering free food and drinks to whoever wandered by, clothing stores giving away baby items at heavy discounts, and everyone having a friendly wave or greeting to any person they made eye contact with.

The euphoric atmosphere lasted two months, only starting to wane when the horror occurred.

She paused beside the largely ignored, badly maintained news kiosk. The screen that should have smoothly cycled through trending stories was stuck–flickering, heavily lined with damage–on a still of the Foxcroft granddaughter and Paris Colony heir dressed up smartly, standing outside the Lord’s mansion house, holding a bundle of delicate pink and lace. The smushed face of their newborn daughter barely visible among the blankets. The headline yelled: Paris Colony Granddaughter Missing, Presumed Murdered.

“Maaaa!”

She snapped to. “Sorry, Mal, Mummy was spacing.” She adjusted him again. “We should hurry back to get your dinner ready.”

The library was closed up for the night, dark and imposing. Mal’s hungry whines and Kalon’s heels echoed throughout as they made their way to the dwelling beneath. She was fast to deposit him into his chair, leaving him to protest the abandonment and lack of food.

She dug through the fridge to pull mashed sweet potatoes and overcooked chicken, shredded beyond recognition. Her brow knitted as she spotted Grams’s lunch still plated and wrapped, completely untouched.

“Maaaa!”

“Yes, coming!” She grabbed the lunch too, placing it out. “You act as if Auntie Strauss wasn’t feeding you snacks sporadically all day.”

Gramps appeared from the stairs. He strained to put his pistol on top of a bookcase, far from reach of anyone else. He immediately went to Mal, patting his head and taking the chair opposite.

“I’ll feed your boy. Scrounge something up for the rest of us.”

“Grams didn’t touch the lunch I made.”

The old librarian’s keen eyes darted towards the kitchen, and then to his wife’s working area. He took Mal’s food up.

“Take it to her. I’ll see about food for us if he eats quickly.”

She hovered outside the doorless doorway, clutching the plate of cold chicken with both hands. The room beyond was well lit with the ceiling light, desk light, and floor lamp all on, but it might as well have been pitch black and freezing. She inched into the heavy atmosphere.

Grams was hunched at the desk. The glow of her laptop caused her to look wraith-like. Her colorless hair was unkempt and added to the haunted effect.

“Grams?” Kalon carefully placed the plate on the desk in a clear space. “You should eat.”

There was no argument from Grams on this point. She leaned away from her screen, blinking the red strain from her eyes, and deftly plucked a chicken leg from the plate.

“She could be dead.”

Kalon felt a chill at the bluntness. “I thought she was…? The blood was hers.”

“Oh no, not the baby.” Grams took a mighty bite. “Not much hope there.” She swallowed. “The mother. That Foxcroft girl.”

Her breath caught. “Pardon?” She dropped into the armchair Grams used for more cozy information gathering sessions. “I don’t understand….”

“Of course not, my girl. More of a shadow of a rumor at this point.” She waved flippantly towards the doorway. “They feel something though, I suspect. They feel something wrong about the sudden lack of attention on her. They just don’t know they do.”

“Surely the lack of attention is to allow the poor woman to mourn.”

“That’s precisely why there would be more attention.” Grams set her sharp eyes to Kalon. “Do not let your good heart be fooled into thinking colonials wouldn’t attempt capitalizing on this politically. They are not like us.”

“They are people.”

“People are not all the same.” She turned her focus back to her food. “You’re too quick to forget that Arios Washington supposedly met a similar fate as a child. He was written off for political gains, and everyone would’ve continued to buy that had he not come back from the dead.” She gestured to her screen. “Something is happening in Paris Colony. Did the mother murder the child? Did the in-laws? Is she murdered at all?”

“But the Foxcroft granddaughter disappearing from the public eye…?”

“Yes, that is what I’m attempting to discover. I cannot in good faith put out a summa until I get that piece.” She held her empty plate out to Kalon without looking away from her screen. “Her vanishing is not something her in-laws want. That is the only tangible bit I’ve got. Now, is it guilt? Grief?” She wagged her plate impatiently. “Clear this out and leave me to it.”

“Do try for some sleep tonight, Grams.” Kalon wrinkled her nose. “And perhaps a shower….”

She leaned against the wall, taking breaths to calm the swirl of information and emotions Grams had helped ushered. She exhaled as Mal called out for her, putting on a smile and hurrying off to relieve Gramps.

---

The heavy overcast reflected the mood of the people perfectly. No sooner than Grams relented and released her summary–giving way to the official narrative that the Paris Colony granddaughter had been slain–did an additional development emerge.

Alouette Foxcroft had disappeared from the eye due to being found collapsed in her room two days after the attack on her daughter. The details remained tightly hushed. The rumors flew in the streets, in the salon, in the library, all of them grim.

Kalon bounced Mal on her hip as she carried him through the early, gray light. “Auntie Strauss is going to be quite busy and a tad upset, so you need to be on your best behavior today.” She frowned. “I hope all this sorrow doesn’t cause long term affect to you and Isabelline. It’d be horrid if you have a negative outlook on life due to all this.”

She slowed as she became aware that there was a person leaning on the building ahead. There was an agitation to their posture, like a cornered animal ready to lash out. She held Mal tight to the point he started to push her away in protest.

“Thought I’d run into you eventually if I camped out here.”

Her shoulders relaxed as she recognized the strange accent. She offered Khoa a smile, but it weakened when his posture stayed coiled.

His inky black hair was longer, partly obscuring his dark brown and hazel eyes and creating a frame that highlighted his face shape and gave his neck a longer, more elegant appearance. The rip-like scar on his mouth and cunning glint in his eyes reminded Kalon that she needed to wade into any interaction with him.

“I almost believe you wouldn’t come by again.” She adjusted Mal. “He’s getting big, isn’t he?”

“Do you have a car?”

“Do I–? What? Why?” She turned slightly, just enough to put Mal a fraction further from Khoa. “No. I’ve never–.”

“The old man doesn’t have one?”

“He has a van, but the thing is ancient. I’m not sure–.”

“Borrow it.”

“What? You want me to steal–?”

“Ask him first if you need to. I can drive.”

She narrowed her green eyes, scowling in irritation. “What is all this about?” Her heart missed a beat. “Is Innit all right?”

“He’s a bastard, but whatever.” Khoa crossed his arms. “He’s done what he said he needed, but now he’s lookin’ for any reason to do more. There ain’t no reason for it. It’s annoyin’.”

“So… you want me to see him… because he’s getting on your nerves?”

Khoa shrugged. “Good a reason as any.”

Kalon cocked her head. “Is it?”

“If you don’t want to see him, just say it and I’ll leave. I can always see if Bex has something to distract him from being an idiot.”

“No!” She cleared her throat to cover for her hasty, higher tone. “I’ll see him. I want to. I….” She pet Mal’s brown hair, smiling at the wary way he stared at Khoa. “I need to prepare first. Drop Mal off. Ask for the van. Et cetera.”

“Fine. Don’t be too long.” Khoa pushed away from the wall. “Probably keeps that van out in the parkin’ garage with the other townie cars. I’ll wait there. Just for a couple of hours.”

She waited until Khoa had vanished around a corner before heading the two doors down to the salon. She deposited Mal into the playpen in the back, receiving a great cry of protest that she ignored. She tucked a container of food and two bottles into the small fridge in the corner before kissing the top of her son’s head.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“You’re in a hurry this morning?” Strauss swayed side-to-side, pressing Isabelline close. “Any news?”

“Not yet, but surely Grams will find something tangible soon. We’re going on a week now. They can’t stay quiet forever.” She picked at her violet nails. “I’m seeing Innit soon.”

“Innit? As in Mal’s father?” Strauss’s eyes hardened. “Kalon….” She shook her head. “No. I won’t say anything. Do as you think you must.” She bit her lip. “Are you telling him about Mal?”

“I haven’t decided. His life is so… complicated. I can’t see how that would do Mal any good. He has enough setbacks without dragging in a person that may always have one foot out the door.”

“Twat.” Strauss laughed weakly. “Sorry. I’ll say no more. Promise.”

Kalon headed out before Strauss broke that promise, and before her nerves sabotaged her into being late to meet Khoa by way of getting into a banter. She fought her way through the line already forming outside the library.

Gramps took his hand off the pistol on his hip as she entered. “Oh, there you are. Was young Malvern difficult?”

“No… I heard word of Innit.” She looked away before she could get a solid look of what expression Gramps had, picking her nails. “Can you manage on your own today?”

“What do you think will come of this?”

“I’m not sure….” She stuffed her hands in her pockets to stop her picking. “I believe I owe it to Mal to gauge if his father is in a spot to be his father though. And,” she swallowed roughly, “I’m worried about him. I want to see if he’s all right.”

Gramps was silent long enough that Kalon looked up at him to make sure he had not wandered off. His mouth was a tight line. His eyes narrowed in concentration.

“I imagine you are bringing this to my attention not only because you’ll miss work while we’re so busy, but because you need something else? My pistol?”

“The van.”

“You cannot drive.” His expression soured. “Ah, it’s that other boy that told you all this. Perhaps you need the pistol as well after all.”

“I’ll bring my baton.”

“I’ll allow it, but I have a request. Do not tell him about young Malvern. Speak to him if you must, but keep your boy’s existence unknown.”

She gave a reluctant nod.

“I also strongly advise you to say nothing to Pistachio when you fetch the keys. If you’re quiet, she’ll likely not notice you at all.”

She crept downstairs, took her baton from her vanity, and picked up the key from its hook. She tried to say something to Gramps as she left, but unsure if she wanted to express gratitude or optimism, she mumbled incoherently instead.

Khoa was standing at the mouth of the parking garage looking irate at the pace she walked.

It took a few minutes to start the van. Grasses had grown into the rusted crevasses of the body, and some type of rodent had used the gaps in the engine for hibernation. The brakes creaked and the whole thing rattled more than Kalon remembered, but Khoa was successful in getting it from the garage and out onto the street.

“Innit’s got a car. I’ll drop you off and bring this one back to swap with mine. I’ll stash the key in that hole that had the weeds.”

“You have your own car?”

“Bex let me borrow his.”

“Really? For more than half a year?”

Khoa shrugged. “It ain’t like I planned on being away that long.” The corner of his mouth curled. “Besides, his parents made him.”

“Bex has parents?”

He gave a snort and an eye roll, but elaborated no further.

She craned her neck to watch the roundabout pass. She had not left Dijon since Gramps brought her home. There was a melancholy weight on her chest over it, but none of the anxiety she had expected.

She leaned back in her seat and glanced at Khoa. “How’s Innit look?”

His sleek eyebrows knit together. “Like Innit? Blue eyes. Freakishly blond hair. He ain’t got fat or gross or nothing.”

She went to clarify but shut her mouth and leaned against the window. She would bet Khoa knew exactly what she had asked and was trying to toy with her, some type of retribution for making him wait, for making him feel the need to seek her out to start with.

She drummed her fingers on the dashboard. “What are Bex’s parents like?”

“Dunno.”

“Of course you do!”

“Why? Because of the car thing?”

She narrowed her green eyes at him. “How long is this drive?”

He smirked.

---

The drive was thankfully not much longer than an hour outside of Dijon. The town was nestled in a dramatic bend in the river, giving it waterfront on three sides. The architecture was similar to Dijon with stone roads and whitewashed stone buildings, except more than half these buildings were ruins. There were rusted out cylinders–airplane hulls–among some of these ruins.

Khoa wretched the van into park. “He’s campin’ out in the Rivotte Bastion. Just follow this road straight down. You’ll know it when you see it.” He pointed to the squat, square tower in front of them. “Looks like that, in case you’re too spacey.”

“Is there not a car park near it?”

“Lots of them.”

“Well?”

“What?”

“I’m in heels, Khoa. Can’t you drop me nearer? Or best option, just escort me directly to Innit.” She sighed at his stare. “What if Innit doesn’t agree to drive me back? Or, what if he’s already gone off somewhere else? I can’t be wandering a strange town all day. I’ve got to get back to the baby.”

She opened her mouth angrily as he cut off the engine, but shut it as he threw open his door.

“I ain’t goin’ to try re-parkin’ this heap. C’mon, let’s get this over with.”

She followed Khoa half a step behind due to her shoes and not knowing where she was. They kept the river to their left, moving with a conflicting lazy agitation.

The Rivotte Bastion was soon in sight, looking as square and squat as the tower they parked near. The walk would have been easy enough for Kalon on her own, and it was near enough there was a slim chance she could have gotten within sight and shouting distance of Khoa should she had discovered Innit was not there and needed a ride back.

She hugged herself as a cold breeze came off the water. She took out her hair clip to better warm her neck, looking sideways at Khoa with his short hair and t-shirt.

“Are you chilly at all?”

“What’re you gonna do about it if I am?” He looked her over. “You ain’t got a jacket to give me.”

“I was attempting to show you humanity and compassion.”

“By reminding me I’m cold?”

“My mistake.” She eyed him, focusing on the scar on his mouth. “This is going to be a stupid question–.”

“Great.”

“--but was that painful?” She tapped her mouth to show what she meant.

“You’re right, that was stupid.”

Further elaboration did not come, but it was just as well with the entrance to the bastion just feet away.

Khoa swept his hand dramatically, bowing slightly. “Your prince charming awaits.”

“How did you manage to make something so cheesy sound so ominous?” She rocked up on her toes to attempt to see better, but did not wander in. “Are you certain he’s still there? It’s rather dark.”

Khoa spun, narrowed his eyes against the light, and pointed. “His car is over there. He’s here.” He leaned against the doorway, setting her in his sights. “Are you scared?”

“Of… the dark?”

“Of seeing Innit.”

The comment caused her pause. It had not occurred to her that she had hesitations in seeing Innit. It was not as if they parted friendly, and she had kept Mal’s existence from him. There was no way to know how he would react to that, if she decided to tell him at all.

“Of course not. I’m rather looking forward to it.”

Khoa scoffed, pushed away from the doorway, and headed inside.

Kalon crept after him, wrinkling her nose and scooting around molding cardboard boxes from someone attempting to use the bastion as storage. The mess did not appear to register with Khoa, and she soon fell behind as he rushed ahead.

“I’ve read too many stories about stupid women walking into obvious death traps to be doing this….”

She jumped at the sounds of crashing, like some of the boxes were kicked or shoved over. She inched towards the sound with her heart pounding. She paused at Innit’s voice.

“Why’d you do that! Now it’s all–.”

“You ain’t payin’ attention, that’s why! You even move since I left?”

“You don’t get it, Khoa. I’m so close to figurin’ out if she’s dead or not. …Magpie ain’t sayin’ nothing…. There ain’t a chance in hell he knew about this….”

“Yeah, he’s probably cryin’ his eyes out. Leave him to it, and move on with your life.”

“What life? All I got is tryin’ to sort out–.”

She jumped again as another set of boxes was knocked over. She could see Khoa standing stiff-legged over the destruction, fists clenched as he bore down on Innit. He sat on the floor, with only his platinum hair visible to her.

“Stop!” Khoa growled-groaned up at the stone ceiling. “Just stop it, Innit. You did enough. You ain’t doin’ nothing but wastin’ time.”

“Yeah? And is me tryin’ to help you wastin’--?”

“Yes! You can’t save me, Innit!” Khoa kicked over another stack of boxes at Innit’s inaudible murmur. “Y’know what? Fine. But I ain’t stickin’ ‘round for you to use me as an excuse.”

Kalon jerked and leapt aside as Khoa spun and charged her direction. She shrank as he stopped behind her, casting a furious look her way.

“Told you he was being a dumbass.”

“You… said bastard….”

Khoa’s lip curled. “Whatever he is, he ain’t my problem.”

She turned to track Khoa’s rtreating form, teetering on following after him and demanding a ride back. She looked back at the blond figure hunched over his laptop, eyes fixed on the screen. The milky light washed him out and made his hair glow. Her mouth twitched against a smile, and she turned back his way, slowly creeping forward.

Eyes still locked on his screen, Innit straightened slightly. “Kalon?” He looked up, mouth drooping open. “K-Kalon!” He set the laptop down as he scrambled to his feet, leaning forward and just as suddenly pulling back. “I don’t…? How are you here?” He scowled. “Khoa….”

“He took off in the van and left me without a ride home.” She gazed at her toes, swaying anxiously. “Give me a lift back?”

She dared look up when it was quiet too long, exhaling to see Innit stuffing bits of clothing and his laptop in his suitcase. She stepped aside to allow him to pass, giving him a smile that was not returned. She trotted after him, sticking close to his back until she stepped from the musty bastion.

She followed him to the lot Khoa had flippantly waved at, over to a slate gray Cadillac with knicks and dings that added character more than detracted. She touched a chip in the door.

“It’s well loved and still a beauty.”

“It was Dice’s.” Innit slammed the trunk down after tossing his bag in. “You can get in. It’s not locked.”

She climbed into the front passenger seat and watched Innit push the ignition on. His knuckles were white on the wheel, his arms tense as he steered them from the lot. She followed the curve of his arms to his shoulders, his neck, his ear–the tip red–and eyed his angular jaw. Her eyes darted away as his blue ones shot to her.

“You let your hair keep growin’. Added some color too.”

“Yes.” She tugged her royal blue lock straight. “My friend thought it accented my complexion and caused my dull hair to look less dull.”

“I never reckoned your hair color was dull.” He cleared his throat. “If you like it, that’s what matters.” His fingers tapped the wheel. “So… why’d you get in a car with Khoa? Did y’all get more friendly?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” She chipped at her violet nail polish. “More of an understanding of sorts. …I know he’s sick.” She smiled weakly. “He was so angry with me when I asked if you had it.” She reddened. “I-I mean, of course I knew rationally that you didn’t. You would have told me.”

“You reckon? Seems like the type of thing I’d want no one to ever know.”

“Perhaps, but if I tried to get into your pants, you wouldn’t have let me, and you would’ve had to tell me why.”

“Or I could’ve slept with you and vanished. It ain’t like I’ve never done that before.”

The air thickened between them. Kalon looked at the scenery a second before allowing her eyes to wander back to Innit. She studied his slender fingers on the steering wheel, not daring to gauge what his expression was.

“I reckon that’s something we should talk about….”

“It was hurtful and at times I still am cross over it.”

“Just jumpin’ right in.”

“I had such a horrid morning, and I had thought that night would validate everything I had said about you. About our relationship. But, no, instead you run off and I hear no word of you for near two years!” She threw her hands up. “I looked such a fool on top of all the heartbreak and–.” She swallowed her next words quickly, laughing shakily to cover it. “I worried about you, you know.”

“Sorry.” His cheeks tinted red. “That ain’t enough, and I meant for right now and for then and… I ain’t got any idea what’d I be able to say to make it okay.”

“Words would never be enough.”

“I reckon so….”

Kalon drummed her fingers on her knee. “Don’t just not try! Some sort of explanation is in order.” She sighed heavily. “Have you at least accomplished what you abandoned me for?”

“Abandoned is harsh.”

“Accurate.” She gathered her hair to one side to fiddle with her curls. “I thought you were going to propose to me, Innit, in case you’ve forgotten that bit.”

Innit’s eyes bugged. “What? We definitely did not have that conversation. There ain’t no way in hell I'd forget that.”

“Oh… perhaps I was too vague with my expectations of that night….”

“What I remember is you sittin’ there, cryin’, and that look you had when you accused me of not lovin’ you.” He tightened his grip. “I saw it almost every night before fallin’ asleep.”

Her heart flittered. She reached over, gently brushing the short hair around his ears. She smirked as she saw him gulp.

“I nearly feel awful for that making me feel better.”

“I reckon that’s something….” He took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Reckon we could start over?”

She recoiled, knitting her fingers together in her lap. She tensed as the air grew heavy once more. Her mouth went dry.

“We can't.”

Innit’s face went redder as he re-tightened his grip on the wheel. “Right. No. Sorry. With how you touched my ear….” He shook his head. “Forget it.” His fingers bounced against the wheel. “There ain’t no way it’s another guy though, right? Not with you comin’ out here and gettin’ me all hot ‘n’ bothered. You ain’t like that.”

“Not another guy in that way….” She took a deep breath. “I had your son while you were gone.”

There was no indication he had heard her. His expression was neutral, his fingers as tight on the wheel as before. She had not even seen any quickening in his breathing. She frowned as the seconds dragged on.

“Innit, did you–? Innit! Road!”

He jumped and cranked the wheel to avoid flying off a curve. The car screeched to a halt with Kalon slamming into the dashboard.

------------

The one thing with writing on g.docs is I can't highlight and see how many words I have (or haven't figured out how to do it) so just put up sections when I feel like I've been writing them too long. I was not going to cut the end off like that (spoiler: super mild car misshap, no big deal at all) but you don't really need to see Kalon going 'yooo wut you doing' and stepping out to just not be sitting in the car.

There is clearly something bad going on with Alouette and it ties into Magpie having Rouen, and Alouette master plan (sort of). Oh, and Isabelline is a color. I thought it was appropriate for the hair dresser/tattooist to name her kid after a color.

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