Mimi’s Cafe was one of the nicer restaurants in the Avenue’s area. It was loudly crowded for lunch with the red booths bursting and several dark tables moved together. The warm lighting and cream walls added extra cheer and comfort, allowing the crowds to be better tolerated on an otherwise wet, dreary day.

Nellie had donned a pleated skirt over some gray leggings. She wore an oversized checked sweater, and had half of her long, auburn waves tied up with a golden bow. She chewed her lip, twisting her hands nervously in the bottom of her sweater. She glanced over her shoulder to where Nathalie sat on the stuffed bench in the foyer meant for those waiting for a table.

“Still doing all right, hon,” the waitress asked, pausing. “Want anything else to drink?”

“No, water is fine, thank you,” Nellie said. She played with her lemon wedge. “There isn’t another part of the restaurant, is there? Like, another dining room in the back?”

“Sorry, hon,” the waitress said, smiling sympathetically. “I’m sure they’re just caught on the light at Honeylocust. Takes an age to turn.”

She nodded, trying to return the waitress’s smile but failing. She kept her focus on her lemon wedge, taking small sips of water for something to do. Her ears caught angry hisses, recognizing them. She twisted to look over her shoulder.

Nathalie was quietly berating Amias. She gestured angrily towards Nellie, causing Nellie to quickly spin back to the table or else be caught watching.

“Terribly sorry,” Amias said, rushing to fill the seat opposite. “The traffic is so much worse than expected for such a crumble of a town. Ah.” He tapped a passing server’s arm. “That blackboard says something about mimosas? Is that an all-day affair or–Never mind, just bring a pitcher.”

“Uh… sure,” the waiter said, looking around for anyone else to intervene. “What kind?”

“Beg pardon,” Amias asked.

“What kind of mimosa? The peach is–.”

“Dear boy, a mimosa is not so complex,” Amias said coolly. “And if you dare serve me a Bellini and say it’s a mimosa, I will take offence.”

“So… plain,” the server asked. He recoiled at Amias’s look. “I’ll go put that in for you.”

Amias had dark circles beneath his warm brown eyes that had not been there the previous day. His short black hair that somehow looked expensive was not as meticulous, and there was more shadow on his face than just his neat, thin moustache. He picked apart a roll from the basket recently placed, half eating it and completely destroying it.

Nellie quickly propped up a menu as his eyes shifted toward her. “I had the baked brie before,” she said. “I might get that again.”

“An appetizer as a meal,” Amias said, taking a glance at the menu. “How… frugal.” He peered at her plastic cup of water. “I’m treating you, my lamb. Order yourself a drink full of sweetness and caffeine to go with whatever meal you desire.” He perked up. “Ah, alcohol!” He took the pitcher of mimosa from the waitress. “A glass like my goddaughter’s would be preferred. Less fill ups.”

Sure,” the waitress said, sounding anything but. She took the flute, eyeing Amias warily before smiling at Nellie. “Know what you want, hon?”

“Um, a lemonade and I’ll try the bacon and seafood pasta,” Nellie said timidly.

“Bacon with shrimp,” Amias said, wrinkling his nose. He offered no further comment. “What is this jambalaya pasta? That sounds adventurous. I’ll give that a go. Oh,” he flipped to the back, “and the bread pudding, lava cake, and toffee butter cake for after.” He looked at Nellie. “Does your aunt like salmon?”

“Yes,” Nellie said.

“Place an order for the salmon citrus salad for takeaway, if you would,” Amias said. “That woman glaring daggers at me from your foyer will need to eat.”

The waitress kept her customer service smile frozen, her eyes on her notepad as she jotted down the massive order. She scurried off. It was a waiter that dropped off Amias’s large, plastic cup without a word or any interaction.

Nellie watched him gulp at his mimosa, frowning. He was not as put together as yesterday, and yesterday included an encounter with an unhappy Ash.

“Are you staying in Murfreesboro,” Nellie asked.

“Yes, in fact,” Amias said, refilling his cup. “I’m renting a townhouse. Charming unit. I wasn’t expecting to find such a comfort.”

“So… you slept okay then,” Nellie asked awkwardly, allowing Amias to see she was scanning him up and down.

Amias smirked wryly. He took a short sip of his mimosa, redirecting his attention to the server bringing the food. He directed the placement with friendly relish, and took his time placing his napkin on his lap and deciding between his fork and spoon.

Nellie was relieved the combination of bacon, shrimp, and crab turned out as tasty as she suspected.

“Are you staying for a while,” Nellie asked.

“No,” Amias said. “I’ll leave tonight, tomorrow at the latest.”

“And you rented a whole townhouse,” Nellie asked.

“I’m a spoiled creature.” He gave her hand a pat. “We’ll walk around this shopping district a tad. I will answer your questions.”

“Do you know what happened to Ira,” Nellie asked without missing a moment. “He’s not even looking at my messages.”

Amias still wore his smile, but there was an edge to it. He had a similar reaction yesterday; he was dismissive of Ira and his father. He took his time picking through his jambalaya, and took another long sip of his drink.

“I cannot speak much to what he’s up to or where he is,” Amias said.

“He said he was searching for his mother, and that she was a dragon, and so was mine,” Nellie said bluntly.

“Ah, yes, that,” Amias said. “This meal is spicer than expected. I may need another drink….” He flagged down the nearest waiter, ordering a single mimosa and a glass of water. He nursed the cup before him while he waited, and clearly to keep himself occupied.

Nellie drummed her fingers on the table, narrowing her blue eyes at him.

“Ah, that looks more like the Commander,” Amias said. His smile wavered when Nellie did not take the bait. “My meager understanding of it is that he is indeed searching for his mother.” His eyes fell. “Elspeth Plantagenet was… a figure of great renown. Her disappearance has been troubling.”

“Disappearence, or dragoning,” Nellie asked.

“To that I cannot attest,” Amias said.

“Dragons are real then,”Nellie breathed.

Amias laughed lightly, his eyes following the waiter returning with the requested drinks while the waitress brought the desserts. “Of course not,” Amias dismissed. “Creatures of fantasy! Unless you count those monstrous lizards at the local zoo.” He continued to laugh in a polite manner, abruptly stopping and leaning over the table as the servers walked off. “They are real. So very, very real.”

Her face lit with a beaming grin. She gave a small squeal, wiggling in her seat. Ira was far too serious to just lie about dragons, or use them to describe something abstract.

“Then… my mother–?”

“Yes,” Amias said, holding up his head to stop her from speaking it out loud in a crowded restaurant. “In fact, what happened to Brue was the missing piece to what happened regarding–.” He flipped his hand about as if unwilling to once more speak the name Elspeth Plantagenet. “How exactly this–” he paused, eyes rolling up as he searched for the proper term– “situation befell your mother is still unknown. Magic of some like, I suspect. But, the knowledge that it happened to her did solve the question of what happened to… the other woman. Or what we suspect happened to her.”

“Why are you being weird about saying her name,” Nellie asked.

“She is of some note,” Amias said. “I do not wish to invite people to eavesdrop.”

“Um… this is the middle of Tennessee in the US. People don’t know or care about Europeans.”

His lip curled. “Quite.” He slid the lava cake towards her. “Cut into that, my dear, and make sure it’s proper.”

She happily obliged, though she would have eaten it even if it did not pour forth liquid ganache. She tested the taste, smiling at the dark chocolate goodness not being sickeningly sweet.

“What other questions have you for me,” Amias asked, helping himself to a forkful of bread pudding. “Your mother’s condition is correct. How she came by it I do not know. I believe those were the looming ones.”

“And if you knew what was up with Ira,” Nellie added.

“Which I don’t,” Amias said. “I assume he is off doing this mother searching as you believe. I also assume he’s unharmed. Heaven help those who strive to harm the little prince.” Amias rolled his eyes. “Though his mother had more snarl, his father is nothing to look lightly upon.”

“You don’t like Ira, do you,” Nellie asked. She held the lava cake up. “Taste this.”

“Like,” Amias chuckled, bemused. “What a notion! I merely have opinions on his family and he’s a key part of that family.”

There was nothing about Clayborne York that struck Nellie as something a person would form an opinion on. He owned two bed and breakfast locations that had excellent reviews, and a hotel that only had thirty rooms. It was enough for a decent income, Nellie knew the hotel at least was in a desirable area just outside of London so would see the rooms full nearly year round, but it was not anywhere close to being an empire with influence and opinions.

The hostility–opinions–may have come from Clayborne York training with the Order of Ferblanc, but that was too petty. Ira said his father only trained with them and never joined whereas Rhys joined, and climbed the ranks enough to be tapped as a commander in his new job. Amias did not seem to dislike her father, but that could have been fondness for her mother.

He was odd about Ira’s mother. Nellie had not looked into her, only finding spare moments to glimpse Clayborne’s information. His profiles were few and far with only the sparse information about his little properties, though it was mentioned he was married with one child when a personal life section was included.

“Ah,” Amias said, staring beyond Nellie. “Your aunt has retreated to eat her meal. Excellent! And the toffee butter cake is still untouched. Very good.” He abruptly stood, and downed the rest of his single mimosa. “I’ll return shortly.”

“O-okay,” Nellie stammered.

She slumped as Amias headed towards the bathrooms, understandable with the amount of liquid he had consumed. She twisted to see that Nathalie indeed was not sitting on the bench in the foyer any longer. She craned her neck, rising slightly from her seat to see if she could find her to no avail. She poked at the bread pudding with a frown. This meal was much more than she had on her. Hopefully Amias was not trying to ditch out.

A boy dropped into Amias’s seat. He grabbed the toffee butter cake, stabbed it, and hungrily ate a bite.

Nellie blinked in surprise, as if trying to make sure there really was a pre-teen boy that appeared and was eating her dessert. She looked around the dining room for anyone that might be missing a kid, but no one so much as looked in their direction.

“Excuse me,” Nellie said. “You’re at the wrong–.”

“I’m Morgan,” he said, swallowing his next large bite roughly. 

The way he spoke his name indicated English was not his first language, but he was still a native speaker. It was too slight to be firmly labeled an accent, and Nellie would not have noticed it if she was not familiar with accents generally.

Morgan chewed, closing his hazel eyes in pleasure. He had a warm complexion a few shades darker than her lightly tanned. His hair looked black inside Mimi’s, but she suspected it was just very dark brown, though she could not say why. He wore it longer to cover his ears, but not long enough to touch his shoulders. It was cut jagged but somehow came across as expensive, styled, and cool which went with his shirt that was European in style and name.

Morgan’s fork clattered on the empty plate. He dabbed his mouth daintily. “I was famished! Hope you weren’t wanting any.” He leapt to his feet. “Let’s go before your aunt returns to her post.”

“Go? What? The bill–,” Nellie said lamely, standing.

“Amias is taking care of it,” Morgan said.

“But–?”

“We won’t go far,” Morgan said. “Just over to the shopping district. Come on, hurry up!”

She followed Morgan, shooting her waitress a bashful smile as she slipped by her for the door. She stole a look back but did not see Amias reappearing to pay the bill. Her insides twisted with guilt, but she kept pace with Morgan out the doors and into the full parking lot.

The dark clouds hung low and ominous over them, cooling the low 70s temperature. She crossed her arms tightly and looked around the parking lot, spotting the Crown Victoria just around the corner. She could not see through the windshield from that angle, but assumed Nathalie was inside finishing up the lunch Amias bought.

“Why’re you just standing there,” Morgan asked, trotting for the busy road that separated Mimi’s Cafe from the big parking lots for the Avenues shopping center. “There’s a break in traffic. Hurry!”

Nellie sprinted after him, crossing the street into the parking lot. Fat, cold rain drops started to fall, the frequency picking up until it was thick and steady. She hugged her wet sweater to herself as she found herself on the sidewalk under the awning in front of the import store.

Morgan put his hands into his hair, shaking the rain from it. He slicked it back off his forehead, and Nellie was struck by the difference. He looked more mature, more noble, and a bit cold. There was something else that had her staring hard, but she could not figure it out. Something to do with his smile or his eyes.

“You’re staring,” Morgan said.

“I am,” Nellie said unflinchingly. She stared more obviously, ducking slightly to look directly at his face. “There’s something off about you.”

“OMG, Perenelle?”

She flinched, straightening, and putting on a happy face for Emma, Sophia, and Olivia. They were all semi-dressed up just as she was. Emma had her shiny blonde hair in a carefully crafted messy bun, wearing tan UGG boots and tight, black leggings. Sophia wore her darker shade of blonde in a high ponytail with a claw-clip meant to look like a piece of sushi. Olivia’s curly hair was in a chunky braid that curled over the shoulder of her cropped sweatshirt.

“Hey, guys,” Nellie said. “Where’s Ava?”

“She just headed for the bookstore a minute ago,” Sophia said, her eyes scanning Morgan with great interest.

“I thought you said you didn’t feel good,” Olivia said with a hint of accusation. “We invited you. Did you have something better to do?”

“Clearly,” Morgan said. He smirked impishly. “I’m her cousin. Flew in last night.”

Nellie whipped around so fast she gave himself whiplash.

Amias told her that she inherited Brue’s smile. Brue and her brother probably had the same smile, and he passed it to Morgan. It was the similarity that caused her pause; the smile and the shape of their eyes were the same.

“Amias brought you,” Nellie breathed.

“Not exactly,” Morgan said. “I heard he was coming to visit and followed.” He looked at the three girls pointedly. “I’m stealing her away for the day. It’s been ages since we’ve seen each other.”

“Oh, sure, of course,” Sophia said hastily, ushering the other two towards the edge of the awning. “Text us tonight, Perenelle!”

“We’ve got to hang out before break is over,” Emma added.

The three of them psyched themselves up and darted into the rain.

“You’re my cousin,” Nellie hissed.

“Who else would I be?” He shook his hair again so that it hung in its lazy mop. “Come on, let’s waste some time before Amias and your aunt find us.”

She followed Morgan into World Market, shaking her sweater sleeves vainly against the damp that seeped into them. They wound their way through the nonsensical shelving in the middle of the store–displaying whatever was seasonal–to the snacks and food stuffs in the back.

Morgan picked up a chocolate hazelnut spread from Spain, turning the glass jar over with boredom. “Do you go by Nellie or Perenelle,” he asked.

“I guess both,” she said. “Or… Nellie, but I never told anyone it was okay to call me that since moving here.”

“I’ll call you Nellie then.” He put the chocolate hazelnut spread back, picking up lemon curd. “I’m just Morgan.”

“Not Regere jr,” Nellie asked.

Morgan snickered but did not seem amused. He put the lemon curd back, turning completely to browse the shelves of cookies crammed at their back. “He would send regards if he knew I was here.”

Nellie picked up a package of Jammie Dodgers. She frowned at the price, waivered, and took a more possessive grip. She would need something comforting after ditching Nathalie, and she could bribe her into a better mood with a few.

“Where do you live,” Nellie asked. She flushed at Morgan’s incredulous look. “What am I supposed to ask you then? There’s too much!”

“Lisbon,” Morgan said. He gave a shrug. “Well, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Six to nine months out of the year,” he said.

She gave it a few seconds, but Morgan did not seem interested in elaborating. “How come? Divorced parents?” 

“Hardly,” he said. He waved flippantly. “Work travels. It’s tedious. Give me your phone a minute. Unlocked, please.”

“Why,” she asked suspiciously, taking her phone out of her skirt pocket and holding it close.

“So I can add myself to your contact list.”

“Why don’t you give me your unlocked phone,” Nellie said.

“It’s at the townhouse,” Morgan said. “I make it a habit to never have it while I'm out.” He smirked. “Harder to track that way. May I?”

She reluctantly unlocked her phone and handed it over. She hovered next to Morgan, popping up on her toes to gain another inch on him.

“Pretty dog,” Morgan murmured, navigating away from the homepage screen.

“Smoke wolf,” Nellie corrected.

“Canidae,” Morgan retorted, handing back her phone.

They stood in awkwardness, silence between them deafening them to the rain pounding on the metal roof and the noise of the store filled with people perusing the wares. Nellie had been truthful when she said she was not sure what to ask him, and Morgan for his part was not very forthcoming.

“Oh,” Nellie exclaimed, causing her cousin to jump. “The clearance snacks are back here. It’s good for trying some really random stuff.”

“Clearence… as in expired,” Morgan asked, raising his dark eyebrows.

“It’s not rotten or anything,” Nellie dismissed.

She circled to the back of the shelves with Morgan on her heels. She crouched, tip-toed, and bobbed around the assorted snacks while Morgan turned his back to browse the tea selection against the wall.

“There isn’t such a grand selection,” Morgan commented. “Suppose having any loose leaf in this country is progress.”

“Another tea snob in the family,” Nellie joked. Then she clarified, “My uncle is very English about his tea.”

“So is our shared grandfather from the little I remember of him,” Morgan said.

Nellie fumbled her Jammie Dodgers. “He’s dead!”

“What, no,” Morgan said, scowling. “What a leap! No, he just doesn’t like me. Doesn’t visit any. I was probably seven the last time I saw him.”

“How old are you now,” Nellie asked. She fumed at Morgan’s sly expression and exasperated head shake. “You aren't giving me a lot to work with, cous!”

“Eleven; yes, you’re older,” Morgan said. “Not by much. Don’t swell your head over it.”

It made a bit more sense why he was grating her nerves the more time they spent together with this knowledge. The only disappointment was that it was more likely he was only shorter because of his younger age, although that was not such a big deal. It just highlighted she was older and more mature no matter his jetsetting lifestyle in Europe.

Nellie abandoned the clearance shelves. There was nothing interesting. She meandered towards the drinks wall with Morgan hovering behind her. She pursed her lips to fight against a smile; her little cousin was in unfamiliar territory and was sticking close.

“Want me to buy you a soda,” Nellie asked.

“I’d love a strong tea after that sweet cake, actually, but all they have for pre-brewed are those Asian milk teas you find in the vending machines,” Morgan said.

“They might have the bottled green tea in stock,” Nellie said optimistically. “That cuts the sweet well. It’d be over here with the fancy waters and soda.”

“That sounds promising,” Morgan said. “Thanks… unless they don’t have any. Then–.” He shrugged.

The way the drinks were shelved did not make much sense to her, so she set about bobbing and weaving to search for the bottled green tea. The jasmine was in stock–also quite bitter and strong–but the flowery aftertaste was not at all what Morgan had in mind.

“I should ask; do you know what happened to Ira? I can’t get a hold of him,” Nellie said. “Amias assumes he’s off looking for his mom, but he was here looking for her and still used his phone. He’s not even reading my messages.”

“Maybe you’re irritating him,” Morgan said. He picked up a pineapple ramune soda with interest. “I don’t really speak to him, nor he to me.”

“Why,” Nellie asked. “Seems good to keep close to others who know about magic, and dragons, and cryptids.”

Morgan grinned. “The world is large, dear cousin. So much larger than a handful of people.” He looked between the pineapple ramune in his right hand and the melon one in his left. “Have you tried any of these? They look fun.”

“I’ve had the melon,” Nellie said.

“Then the pineapple,” Morgan decided, placing the melon back. “You can try a sip since you're paying for it.”

“That won’t cut any sweetness leftover from that cake.”

“So I shall suffer, but it’s of my choosing.” He handed her the soda. “Amias is probably right. I’m sure he’s fine. I would not be terribly surprised if he was being kept busy by his father. He does have a lot on his plate, as the saying is.”

Nellie chose a lychee ramune with the thought of allowing Morgan a sip. They headed towards the check-out, hugging the wall where all the dishes, glassware, and utensils were displayed. They got sidetracked by the crazy array of coffee mugs, snickering snidely at the on-the-nose feminist ones shaped like chubby torsos with words like ‘beautiful’ or ‘powerful’ painted on the front.

“Oh, I got another question,” Nellie said. “Do you know Penny?”

“Penny,” Morgan said, scrunching his face. “Can’t say that’s familiar. Why?”

“Ira talked to her a lot,” Nellie said. She laughed. “Me and my… we thought maybe she was his girlfriend but he always pretended not to hear us when we asked.”

“She probably is then.” He grinned wickedly. “That’s too good!”

The line was long and the registers slow. They eyed the extra stuff near the register, all various forms of useless but enticing in their novelties. Nellie had to remind Morgan a few times they were only getting the sodas and Jammie Dodgers as he pawed over the items. She carefully typed Nathalie’s number into the card reader, trying to keep the numbers straight.

“Amias said you guys were leaving tonight,” Nellie murmured.

“He was rather frantic when I showed up last night,” Morgan said offhandedly. “Suppose he would cut his visit short to get me back.” He spun to her so quickly that the cashier startled. “Let’s skeeve tomorrow!”

“Ditch what,” Nellie asked, handing a ten to the cashier. “I’m on break. I can do what I want. …Within reason.”

“You must be as curious about his highness looking for his mother here, of all places, as I am,” Morgan said. “Why don’t we do a bit of sleuthing? Maybe it’ll answer where he is? Or maybe he’s even here again but not wanting to get sidetracked away from his quest like the last time.” His eyes were sparkling. “Do you have any idea–?”

“Perenelle Herle!”

This time Nellie and Morgan joined the cashier in jumping out of their skins. Nathalie stood tall with the automatic doors open to her back, rainwater streaming off her. Her blue eyes blazed. Her hands were clenched into shaking fists at her sides.

Amias flitted in behind her as she stormed up to the counter. He held his arms out, allowing them to drip, looking much like a half drowned cat–exhausted and wild.

“How dare you run off like that,” Nathalie fumed. “I was completely sick with worry!” Morgan gulped as Nathalie rounded on him. Her face softened only slight enough for Nellie to notice. “Mr. Baig will see to you.”

Nellie took her change and receipt from the cashier, not meeting her stare or answering her mutter to have a nice day, as she stuffed them in her shopping bag.. Her face burned with embarrassment now that the shock of Nathalie’s intervention wore off. She dashed after Nathalie without a word.

Nathalie had pulled the pearlescent Crown Vic up to the store. It had both front doors open, windshield wipers going, and hazards blinking. She had clearly some idea as to where Nellie would wander off to. Amias must have done what he could to delay her. It surely added to her fury.

“Get in,” Nathalie ordered, dropping into the driver’s seat and slamming the door.

Nellie could see the rest of her Spring Break evaporating right before her eyes.

“Nellie,” Morgan called, rushing into the rain.

“Master Morgan,” Amias pleaded, staying beneath the awning.

Nellie paused with her foot on the car. The seat was soaked already, a few minutes more would not matter. She found bitter tears falling from her eyes, grateful for the rain hiding this from her young cousin.

“Perenelle,” Nathalie said sharply.

“Master Morgan, please, come away,” Amias begged. “She’s gotten in enough trouble.”

Morgan pointedly ignored Amias. He gave Nathalie a cool glance down to where she sat, and wrapped his arms around Nellie in a hug that felt completely calculated and not at all affectionate. In her ear, he whispered, “Text me later, and we’ll work out tomorrow’s plans.” Then, he pulled away and returned to Amias, declaring, “I'm soaked though, Amias; how dare you let me get so!”

Nellie slumped in her wet seat. She pulled out the Jammie Dodgers, peeking at Nathalie from the sides of her eyes. She cleared her throat, flinching at the glare Nathalie shot her.

“Want a Jammie Dodger?”

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

I like Mimi's. They had one in FL not far from one of the houses we lived at, and was happy to see one in Murfreesboro. It's French/Louisiana-French food mostly. I've had the baked brie 2 or 3 times. So tasty. (We had brie in the house with some regularity since I was small, and in Australia I used to do brie and crackers for the cabin/camp. Haven't done a baked brie yet.) And, yes, the Honeylocust light takes forever! When I'd get caught at it going to the groomer, I knew I'd be a minute+ late.

Elspeth goes by Elsie. Amias either doesn't know or feels weird calling her that. I had 'Elsie Plantaneget' written down before I looked to see what Elsie was short for: Elizabeth or the Scottish version Elspeth/Elsbeth. I thought the 'p' was weirder, so went with that one.

I've always really, really liked the name Morgan and at one point thought I'd name my kid that, but as I got older I started liking it less for a girl and more for a boy. I did have it on my list for middle names if I had a boy. I'm not sure if it'll still be there after all this is done, lol.

World Market is the import store I'm always going to. Somtimes they do have really cringe things like those feminist mugs. When they get stuff like that, they put them front and center for a few weeks, and you later find a bunch in clearence months later. This is a store where someone started talking to Minnie, asked how old to me, and since she was exactly number of months because it was the 21st I said X months today, and the lady goes omg a leo, and that was not considered odd for that place. That type of store. Fun people watching.

This is the longest chapter so far. And why it was finished now and not on Saturday like I was thinking it would be.

“04894. Male. Middle-aged. Submitting a photo of his mark.”

The man roughly pulled the body by the arm until it fell onto its front. He pointed his device over the back of the body’s neck, aligning the intricate, diamond-shaped marking within the on-screen preview. He pressed on the screen and captured the image.

The woman beside him nodded as the image simultaneously appeared on her tablet. She saved the image into a folder labelled ‘04894’ and continued after the man as they moved on to the next body.

The once beautiful landscape of the planet Aravast had been reduced to smoke and rubble. Juniper trees were downed and coated in a thick layer of dust–if they were intact at all. The sandstone buildings were levelled, leaving only chunks of rock, plaster, and brick in pieces on the ground.

Further away from the site of the blast, however, many of the buildings still stood as hollowed-out reminders of the lives that once lived inside. Kitchens still bore dishes beside the sink to be washed, and sitting rooms with broken chairs rested among the ruins. Bedrooms, furnished with fabric curtains and cozy beds, were exposed when exterior walls had collapsed and roofs had caved in. Many of the deceased were pinned in their beds by fallen ceiling beams, while others had risen for the doors and windows–only to fall when the blast struck.

The man bent over another body that had fallen across the home’s threshold. Her eyes were cold and still half-open as dried blood peppered her dull skin. Her disheveled hair was brown with streaks of white.

“04985. Female. Also middle-aged. Submitting a photo of her mark.”

The young woman beside him clutched her tablet tightly in an attempt to ward off the trembling in her hands. She watched as the man grabbed the collar of the body’s shirt, pulled out a pocket knife, and slit the shirt down the middle. He spread it open with little concern for what was exposed in the process, and he focused on the diamond-shaped mark that rested over the deceased woman’s heart.

The man stood and brushed the dust from his navy slacks as he stepped over the body and continued down a small alley. His short chestnut hair was spiked in the front, casting a jagged shadow upon his pale forehead. His blue eyes pierced over his shoulder at the similarly-dressed young woman as her eyes remained glued to the body of the Aravasti woman on the ground.

“Adkins.”

She glanced up, the sun catching the olive-brown skin of her face and glinting in her dark brown eyes. Her facial expression never changed from its neutral demeanor, but she managed to quell the tremble in her hands as the man stared her down. “Yes, sir,” she replied, stepping in line to follow him as she tucked one of her tightly-knit braids back into her bun.

The two continued down a stone-covered alley until they reached a point where the home to their left had fallen into it. The man put his hands on the broken brick and attempted to step through the narrow space, but his arm was caught when a piece of broken pipe snagged the patch on his upper arm.

“Lieutenant!” Adkins allowed the tablet to hang from the lanyard across her body and reached for his arm.

“I’ve got it,” he called back, giving his arm a quick tug.

The patch was torn from his sleeve and remained punctured on the pipe. Adkins’ eyes were met with the embroidered replica ORBIT’s insignia; bold white letters with a yellow circle looped around them on a field of blue, and a light blue planet resting atop the I. Above, the acronym was spelled out: “Organization for Restoring Balance in Time.” Below, the Latin phrase “Nemo Praeverterit Tempus.” She fingered the shard of pipe that now poked through the top corner near the O.

“Leave it,” the lieutenant noticed her attempt before turning away. “There are many more patches back on the station. I’ll have my suit repaired then. Come on.”

“Lieutenant Reynolds?”

He glanced back, a hint of annoyance in his eyes. “Yes?”

The young woman was still focused on the torn patch. “What has happened here?”

Reynolds’s lips were pressed tight as he released a breath through his nose. “A mass genocide has occured, and ORBIT has been sent to record the event and catalog the deceased. I felt I did a satisfactory job explaining this before we arrived.”

“Yes, sir,” she bit her lip. “But... what caused the genocide?” Her dark eyes at last drew up from the patch.

Standing still with a fallen wall of brick between them, the lieutenant crossed his arms and shifted on his feet. “A series of missiles were sent from the neighboring planet of Barea.”

“I didn’t think Barea had that kind of weaponry–”

“Officer Adkins, that is not important to our mission at this time,” Reynolds’ voice remained calm despite the firmness of his tone. “Yes, this event is abnormal, and our historians are working on that side of things; but right now, you and I are only concerned with cataloging. Now, come on. This is the last sector we have for today.”

Adkins nodded solemnly, releasing her concern in a short breath through her lips. She lifted the tablet back into her hand to prevent it from swinging as she slipped past the collapsed wall after him.

The alley led to a large open town square with a stone fountain crowning the center like a monument. The floral forms in the carved stone were chipped and broken from the blast, and the water was clouded as it puddled among the debris strewn inside the basin.

A body was slumped over beside it.

The lanky form was oddly positioned with his head down, back hunched forward, and arms spread on either side. His chin-length locks were a dusty blond, and they hung over the mark on the back of his neck. He was dressed in a dark blue shirt and tan pants, both heavily covered in blood and dust. A long purple scarf was looped around his shoulders, heavily tattered as the light breeze brushed the ends of it across the stone pavement.

As they approached, Adkins caught a glimpse of sunlight reflecting across a translucent form in the air above the fallen figure. She slowed to a stop. “Lieutenant...?”

Reynolds had noticed it too. “What is that?” He mused, also slowing his pace as he leaned from side to side to study the scene.

A shield of light, so faint it was almost imperceptible, covered the Aravasti like a giant, glistening bubble over his back.

The lieutenant stepped up to the edge of the bubble, a good three feet out from the fallen Aravasti. Hesitating for only a moment, he reached out his hand and touched the light.

The shield flickered and the Aravasti man gasped.

Reynolds paled and staggered backward. “This one’s alive??”

Adkins dropped the tablet from her hands, and it caught itself on the lanyard it was still attached to.

Reynolds swiped a finger across the screen of the watch around his wrist. “This is Lieutenant Reynolds–we have a live one!” He spoke quickly as he cautiously watched the Aravasti man’s muscles twitch as his form arched forward ever-so-slightly. “Number–what number are we on?”

“04986,“ Adkins called.

“Number 04986 is alive!“ 

“Reynolds, copy–did you say alive??” A deep voice crackled through the watch’s miniscule speaker.

The Aravasti man groaned painfully and slumped to his side, revealing a second form that had been tucked beneath him.

“Yes,” the lieutenant’s eyes widened. “And we have just discovered 04987.”

“Status of 04987?”

“Unknown; there’s currently a low-level force field around them. 04986 appears to be a Lux-Aravasti.”

“Attempt to force through it,” the man’s voice continued. “Speak to them if necessary to assure them you are here to help. Above all, keep them calm; Lux-Aravasti are not generally hostile, but they are extremely powerful.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re sending a recovery vessel with EMS to your location immediately, preparing to rescue two.”

“Thank you, General.” Reynolds let his arm drop, scanning over the two forms lying beside the fountain.

The Aravasti man now lay on his side, fingers clenched into fists on the ground. His face bore some semblance of discomfort as his chest rose and fell slowly with each labored breath. Strands of white bangs obscured his eyes.

Beside him, a woman lay curled in a fetal position, arms tightly crossed against her chest and her knees tucked near her elbows. A layer of white hair spilled from the top of her head and fell around her face as dark brown hair curled out from beneath it. She wore a dark blue vest over a sleeveless black tunic that was split up the sides, and her khaki pants were tucked into tall black boots. Her complexion seemed warmer than that of the man beside her, and a pair of glasses, albeit askew, rested over her closed eyes.

Reynolds stepped forward and attempted to push his hand through the light again. It didn’t budge.

“Excuse me,” he called through the bubble as he rested his hand against his chest. “I am Lieutenant Keith Reynolds; Cadet Adkins and I are here on recovery–we are here to help you.”

The Aravasti sucked in a pained breath, curling backward and struggling to move. The dark stains of blood that covered his back were slowly transferring to the stoney ground.

“Please,” Reynolds attempted again, “if you could drop your shield, we can help you. Medical attention is already on its way–”

The shield dropped as the man exhaled.

“Sir!” Brows lowered in caution, Reynolds entered the previously-blocked space and fell to his knees between the two Aravasti. He pressed his fingers into the man’s neck; his sluggish heartbeat could scarcely be detected.

He turned to the woman beside him and did the same, surprised to find not only a pulse, but also warmth from her skin. “04987 is alive,” he called over his shoulder to Adkins.

The man’s gray-blue eyes cracked open to see the lieutenant kneeling over the woman. They drew wide as he gasped in a horrified breath and raised his arm.

“Wait!“ Reynolds grabbed the man’s arm in defense, fearfully watching light trace through the veins beneath his grip. “It’s all right–I’m here to help!”

The man’s eyes fell upon the woman at his side. “Help,” he spoke as his arm trembled within Reynolds’ grasp. “Please…”

Reynolds observed him calmly before gently releasing him.

The Aravasti dropped his hand onto the woman’s arm. The light that had been pulsing through his veins was quickly fading back to his fingertips. “Please help her…”

Reynolds bent closer and also set his hand upon the woman’s arm. “Who is this?”

 “Gemini,” the name barely escaped his lips.

“Gemini?” He repeated. “And what is your name?” When he received no answer, he leaned into the Aravasti man’s line of sight. “Sir?”

The man’s gray eyes grew dull, focused only on the woman beside him. “Please... help her…” He uttered.

The lieutenant paused. “I will,” he spoke simply.

Upon his word, the man’s eyes fell closed as his hand slipped from the woman’s arm.

Reynolds immediately took the Aravasti by the shoulders and turned him over to his back–just as one last breath escaped his lips. His pulse faded and ceased–along with all residual light.

The lieutenant drew away his hands. His usually expressionless face held increased concern as he looked upon the lifeless body before him.

Behind him, Adkins had a hand clamped tight over her mouth.

The lieutenant bowed his head after a moment and released a slow breath. His expression returned to its blank state. “04986 is male,“ he said without turning away. “Young adult. His given name is unknown.“

Adkins lurched forward after a moment when she realized they were continuing with their work. “Sir–should we attempt CPR–”

“Make a note that he was found alive, yet succumbed to death,” he glanced at his watch, “at 16:26 local time.”

Adkins frowned and grabbed the tablet hanging from her shoulder and entered the information quickly, pausing to wince as Reynolds flipped the man onto his stomach and pulled away the strands of blond hair to capture the mark on the back of his neck.

“Submitting a photo of his mark.”

The humming of a distant aircraft began to fade from their left, causing Adkins’ dark eyes to scan the horizon.

Reynolds left the man on the ground and shifted to face the woman. Her pulse was slow, yet steady, as was her breathing. He snapped his fingers near her ear, but she did not move. He brushed away the hair on her forehead to clear her face, revealing a bloodied gash beneath the white strands near her right temple.

“04987 is female. Young adult, and alive. She is currently unconscious from what appears to be blunt trauma to her forehead.” He looked to the sky as the rescue ship broke into view over the dusty-colored peaks that encircled the area.

“What was her given name?” Adkins glanced up from her tablet.

Reynolds’ eyes returned to the woman as strands of her brown and white hair were tossed from the wind from the descending spacecraft.

“Gemini.”

--------

I re-read everything I had written for Part 1 of Westfall, and I forgot this is the scene that starts up the whole story. Whew lol

I may have mentioned before, but Westfall is broken into 4 sections: Lost, Found, Rise, and Fall (see what I did there?). It will still be all one book, it just sort of naturally broke itself into these acts. In each one, Gemini is slightly different and/or goes by a different name, like part 1 is the ORBIT section. 2 is when she crashes into Westfall and goes by "Wildfire" - and 3 picks up after she is baptised and finally accepts being Gemini again. 4 starts after a big thing I'm not sure I'm ready to spoil.

Anyway, starting up with Mr Reynolds himself; one of my most annoying bad guys, lol. He's just so terrible it makes writing him as a bad guy pretty easy. Poor Adkins, you'll see more of her too.

The messages to Ira stayed unread for the rest of February. Nellie only sent one more, asking if he was all right, but that too stayed unread. She started to worry as mid-March crept by and took to searching the internet for any signs of Ira York whenever she was able.

“Boo!”

Nellie jumped, nearly dropping her school laptop on the floor. She frowned at Ava as she laughed at her, sinking into the seat next to her and pulling out her sketch pad.

“Mrs. Huffman is going to be angry if she comes in and sees that out,” Ava said. “You know she’s all upset over this AI art stuff.”

“I’ll put it away when she comes in,” Nellie murmured, keeping her eyes on the screen. The bright light mixed with her blue eyes, giving her a glazed look.

Ava pushed her glasses up her nose. “Clayborne York,” she questioned, leaning over to look.

Nellie tilted the screen down to distort the image of the middle-aged man with Ira’s blue eyes. She gave it a second of thought, and readjusted the screen so Ava could see. It was just the two of them in art class, and the other few students that arrived early did not so much as glance at them.

Clayborne York looked like the type of middle-aged dad Nellie would see in a soccer stadium waving a Manchester banner, and that was despite the expensive suit, neatly kept blond hair (starting to look duller with age), and the way he held his broad shoulders. It was something in his smirk, and the twinkle in his eye that gave the fun loving impression. He was more relaxed than Ira typically was, but not completely absent the weight Ira seemed to have during the times he would space out.

“I bet he was cute at our age,” Ava said, grinning widely. “Who is he?”

“Ira’s dad,” Nellie said. “The college guy that was visiting after I moved here.”

“And…?”

“And I haven’t heard from Ira, so was thinking of maybe emailing his dad,” Nellie said. She slowly shut her eyes with a groan. “Oh, wow, that sounded lame outloud.”

Ava frowned, chewing her words before saying them. “Eleven is probably too young for him,” she said tactfully.

“I’m twelve, but it isn’t like that,” Nellie said with a laugh. “He’s a family friend.” She felt that was not enough, and added, “Our fathers were cadets together.”

“Oh, so that’s why,” Ava said with dawning. “We couldn’t figure out why he was visiting after you told us he wasn't a relative. Wait… twelve? Since when?”

“Last Friday,” Nellie said, embarrassed.

Her cheeks reddened the longer Ava stared, clearly aghast that Nellie had kept her birthday quiet. She was saved trying to explain herself by Mrs. Huffman trotting into the room with the class bell on her heels. Nellie quickly put the laptop away. She made an attempt at drawing Cecily–poorly–while Mrs. Huffman droned on about texture.

Nellie had not been able to look at Clayborne York’s profile long enough to find a contact number or email. She would need to resume once he was home, hopefully on the laptop and not on her phone. It would be helpful if she was allowed to bring her school laptop home.

The person who would be able to tell her where Ira was, and convey a message to him, was probably Penny, but Nellie did not know a thing about her other than her first name. And, it was likely a nickname. In retrospect, Penny did not have an English accent like Ira did, but that did not help narrow down her identity.

She lingered in the doorway until the car rider monitor called her. She rushed to the pearlescent sedan with a wave at Emma and Olivia, giving them a small, fake laugh as she climbed in.

“Which ones are those,” Nathalie asked, giving them a wave as they rolled forward. “Shame all your friends were occupied last weekend.” She gave Nellie a strained smile. “Was school any more tolerable today?”

“Normal amount of tolerable,” Nellie murmured. “You haven’t heard from Ira, right?”

“From Mr. York,” Nathalie asked. “No. Not since he flew home. Are you having difficulty reaching him?”

“Yeah,” Nellie said. She dug her fingers into her knees. “I’m starting to worry. Should I call the Order of Ferblanc?”

“I… don’t believe that to be wise,” Nathalie said carefully. “I’m not exactly sure what it is they do, but Mr. York not calling them until the last minute when it came to that… thing, makes me believe they must be extraordinarily busy doing similar heroics.”

“It does seem extreme…,” Nellie said.

The larger of the two outbuilding–the one Nathalie claimed for her studio–had been fully outfitted with electricity. A bathroom was added, raising the amount of the property to two; Nathalie claiming foresight for Nellie’s approaching teen years. Ash’s house was still unfinished. Electricity and water had been added, but it was ripped to the studs and lacked a roof. It was slated to be complete as soon as Nathalie was paid for her recent ballerina statue.

“Can I use the laptop,” Nellie asked, shouldering her bag as she stepped out of the car.

“I suppose so,” Nathalie said. “Don’t lose track of time though, please. I’ll need you to pop dinner into the oven tonight.”

Ash had again destroyed her bedding. She did not bother to scold him, instead sitting on her bed and going into the recent orders tab to place another order for a comforter, pillow, and sheets. He was a wild animal with a supernatural flair. It was more their fault for locking him indoors and they had both come to accept that.

“You’ll be an outdoor dog-thing once your house is done,” Nellie said, patting his head. “I guess I’ve been worrying you’d run off and get hurt. Or just run off in general….” She stroked him, staring at the confirmed order screen unseeingly. “Please don’t run off on me, Ash.”

---

Nellie snapped thin branches, panting, as she tore through the forest. She leapt a fallen tree, twisting to see over her shoulder as much larger sounding branches broke. She tripped, tumbling head over heels through the dead leaves and mud hidden beneath. She stayed perfectly still as all the sounds vanished, waiting.

Black smoke elegantly wafted around her left side, bounced before her, and began to solidify into Ash. He crouched, hackles raised.

“No,” Nellie begged, half-laughing. “You win. You win.” She flopped backwards. “Let me catch my breath.”

Spring Break had started and it brought Nellie an enormous amount of relief to not go to school. A twinge of dread lingered in the depths of her mind, a mental countdown to when she would return to the tedium and mean stares from her teachers.

She climbed to her feet, shaking the leaves from her clothes. “Come on, Ash, let’s get back to the lady,” she said. “It’s got to be near lunch.”

She always referred to Nathalie as ‘the lady’ to Ash. In part, because Nathalie did not like to acknowledge Ash by his name, but also to avoid Nellie needing to definitively put a label on her. It was surprisingly easy to never say the words ‘mom’ or ‘aunt’ in everyday life. She knew it would need to be spoken aloud at some point, but that could wait until she was not enjoying the freedom of traipsing about the woods with her smoke wolf.

It was pleasantly warm, and the bright sun fell into the clearing before the small house causing the black asphalt to deepen. Birds pecked dropped seeds from the made feeders Nathalie had made, hopping along the tar happily.

Something made Nellie slow her casual pace, something that she could not put her finger on that stood out from the cheerful scene. Her shoulders tightened as Ash began growling at her side.

“Ssh, boy, don’t give us away,” she whispered, patting his head. She inched nearer, heart pounding and the hairs on her arm standing erect. “J-just… cover me.”

She stood back from the door, stretching to reach for it but not wanting to get any closer should she need to run away. She cringed as the door let out a slow, sharp squeak.

“Nellie,” Nathalie called, her tone strained. “Do hurry inside before the flies follow. Someone is here to see you.”

Inching into the doorway revealed a man in a tailored suit and a flamboyantly loudly patterned fuschia tie. He reminded her of Vincent Price but if he spent a lot of time in the tropics, his olive skin was either fully natural or the result of long, warm vacations. He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties but the only lines she saw were crows feet that crinkled up when he smiled fondly at her.

She smiled nervously, warily eyeing the length of him. There was something about him that she could not figure out, some feeling she could not name. It was not hostile, just not usual.

“My, look at you,” he said, a hint of some accent. “You–.”

Ash snarled, poofed, reformed in front of Nellie, and lunged. He smacked into a barrier, light spreading through the air from his impact. He tossed his head about, growling and ready to spring again.

“Easy there, friend,” said the man, holding his hand before him. He stood like bracing against a wall, his face twisted in concentration. “Would it be inconvenient to put the creature outside?”

Nellie stared, mouth open. She snapped to after a few seconds. “Ash, outside, boy,” she ordered. “It’s okay, boy.” She tilted her head at the man. “He’s a friend.” She firmly urged Ash out the door and shut it to prevent him poofing around her back into the house.

“Friend,” he said, amused. He sat on the worn soft looking completely out of place, crossing his legs to reveal his socks matched his tie. “Perhaps when you’ve grown, but for now I’ll have to be content with godfather.”

“G-godfather,” Nellie stammered. She turned to Nathalie. “I have a godfather?”

“Godfather,” Nathalie cried at nearly the same time. “What on earth–? Is my brother a Catholic? Oh, I knew that group was some sort of cult!”

“Dear woman, calm yourself,” the man said, although he looked highly entertained. “The Order of Ferblanc is no cult, though it pains me to admit that. Perhaps they went through periods of cultishness, but that could be my distaste wanting more than anything.” He raised a sculpted eyebrow. “Or are you accusing his most recent association?”

“No,” Nellie said firmly, holding her hands at each of the adults like forcing them apart. “No, no, no! I don’t care about if my father is a Catholic or a cultist or former cultist or whatever. …Well, I do, but not right this second.” She pointed at the man. “Name. Please.”

His lip curled. He stood, and gave a sweeping bow. “Amias Baig.”

“And you’re a witch,” Nellie asked, trying to sound nonchalant despite her heart beating from her chest.

“Witch,” Amias said, scandalized.

“Wait, no, not a witch,” Nellie said. “What was it Ira called you guys…?”

“Mage.” Amias sat again, knitting his fingers on his knee. “Ah, yes, so the little prince truly was here. Oh, how his father fretted.” He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Sent inquires to us asking after him and everything. Poor child. Such a tight leash.”

Ira had been delayed by the white screamer and Cecily running off. It did not strike Nellie as unusual that his father would worry, especially since he was surely informed why his son was roaming about. Amias did not seem concerned about Ira. He could know where he was and why he was not looking at his messages. He could know about her parents, what happened to her mother and where her father disappeared to.

Nellie–and the adults–jumped as Ash let out a long, discontented howl right outside the door. She moved to let him in before recoiling, shooting a look at Amias.

“Ash doesn’t like you,” she stated.

“Naturally,” he said, nodding. “We magic types put animals on edge by default. It’s a dangerous thing, magic, and in some ways unnatural.” He laughed lightly. “Unless you are of the natural type yourself, but those are few and far.”

“Magic is… that weirdness I’m getting off you,” Nellie asked.

“Rudely stated, but yes,” Amias said. He lifted his eyes to Nathalie. “And you feel nothing, correct?”

“Confusion and mild anger,” Nathalie said wryly. “Are you staying long enough for refreshment, Mr. Baig, or do you need to be on your way?”

“Oh my, I like you,” Amias said coolly. “Tea. Preferably black. And, if you have a cake, I’ll take a bite.” He twisted to put Nellie more squarely in sight and Nathalie further from it. He gave her a sad smile. “You were so young last I saw you. When word reached the Regere of where you were, I leapt at the chance to see you.”

“The Regere,” Nathalie asked, stepping next to Nellie and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“My uncle,” Nellie murmured. “The one… Rhys didn’t want near me.”

Nathalie paled, she inadvertently painfully digging her fingers into Nellie’s shoulder. “Wh-what? But, how?”

“The Order of Ferblanc,” Nellie said, staring at the grain in the floor. “I gave my name when I called. They must've recognized it. Ira did.”

Nathalie released Nellie, stepping away to pace. She covered her mouth in horror, her brow furrowed.

“So… about that tea,” Amias asked. He tensed as Nathalie glared at him. “Water is also perfectly fine.”

Nathalie held her glare for a few seconds before snatching her phone up off the table. She stormed into her room, slamming the door hard enough to shake the walls. It was no great leap to think she was calling Uncle Winston as some form of reinforcement.

Amias stood and walked up to her. He put his hands on her shoulder before thinking better and raising them off so that they hovered inches above. He gave a snort, shaking his head with a smile.

“Suppose going right for a hug is too forward given that I’m a stranger now,” Amias said. His smile grew more fond. “You look a good deal like Brue. Have her freckles. Her smile, from the little I saw of it.”

“I,” she swallowed, “look like her?”

“I’d say you have a good mix, but I can see her in you, yes,” Amias said. He clapped her shoulders and returned to the couch, squirming about with a disgusted look. “My, this thing is tattered.” His warm, brown eyes wandered the floor, ceiling, and walls of the old, cramped house. “Well….” He allowed his words to trail into obscurity.

“Did you train with the Order of Ferblanc,” Nellie asked. “Is that how you and my father–?”

She abruptly stopped at Amias’s roar of laughter. Her face burned with embarrassment, her mind churning backwards to discover where she went wrong. She giggled nervously, grasping.

“N-no, that wasn’t right,” she said. “You don’t seem to like them.”

“I’m so sorry, my dear,” Amias said, wiping a tear from his eye with his finger. “Oh, how I needed that! Oh, my, come here.”

Nellie sat on the coffee table across from Amias. She took his hand as he offered it, still feeling embarrassed as he gave it a squeeze. His grip was strong, warm, and his hands soft as if he had never done any manual labor or even roughhousing. There was the smallest tingle on her skin where his skin touched, like the lingering effects of putting her hand under a tap that was too hot.

“Firstly, my connection to you comes from Brue more than it does Rhys,” Amias said. “Your father and I were amiable, but your mother and I were the best of friends.” His lip curled. “Rhys was too serious.” He patted her hand. “The Order of Ferblanc are the opposite to mages. They’re sensitive to magic but contain a sort of nullifying element in their person. They supposedly exist to combat when people misuse magic.”

“Did my mother have that type of sensitivity and… power, I guess for lack of a word,” Nellie asked.

“Oh no,” Amias said bluntly. “No, no, Brue was completely desensitized to magic. Hadn’t the faintest I was a mage, but completely unperturbed when she saw me do magic.” He laughed. “You’d have thought she witnessed me fold a duvet. Just a mild ‘oh, neat’. I was more surprised over her lack of surprise.”

Rhys had described Brue as flippant and airheaded in the first letters that mentioned her. Nellie had not thought much on it, perhaps because of how rigid Rhys came through in his letters, but having no strong reaction to witnessing magic was a point to her father’s assessment.

“Of course, once I was made aware that she was the Regere’s sister, it all made sense,” Amias said.

“Made sense… that she had her job,” Nellie asked unsurely.

“Made sense that she was desensitized and unfazed by magic,” Amias said, eyeing her carefully. “My lamb, has no one plainly stated to you that the Regere is a mage?”

“He is,” Nellie blurted. “I’m part magic!”

“It doesn’t exactly work that way…,” Amias said, amusement once more returning to his face. “Related to magic, perhaps, as in the same way you are related to him.” He chuckled. “Sounds like the little prince didn’t deem to mention it.”

Ira only mentioned the Regere was powerful. There was no actual reason he needed to mention that her uncle had magic.

“He did mention something else,” Nellie said, straightening. She set her gaze on Amias. “He said my mother was a dragon.”

Amias’s face flinched. “Did he?”

Nathalie emerged from her room in a whirl, causing Nellie to jump to her feet and Amias to straighten. She clutched her phone, putting a hand on her hip, and chewing the words popping into her head. She heaved in a breath and let loose a long, loud exhale.

“Mr. Baig, we should talk,” Nathalie said, her tone clear she was not requesting. “Nellie, please go see to that animal. He was clawing outside my window.”

“One moment, my dear,” Amias said, rising. He looked down at Nellie intently. “We will talk about it. Allow me to set your aunt’s mind at ease. She deserves as much.”

Nellie and Nathalie both avoided looking at the other. It was the first time someone had used ‘aunt’ with them together. Nellie gave a curt nod, and hastened outside before Nathalie could reassure or condemn the term. She shushed Ash, locking her arm around his thick, furry neck to comfort him and keep him still, hunkering beneath the living room windows.

There was a long stretch of silence before Nathalie broke in, asking, “Is my little brother a Catholic?”

“Seems an odd thing to fixate on,” Amias answered.

“You think so,” Nathalie asked scathingly. “I think it’s the perfect representation of how little I know about my brother. Of how much of his life he decided not to divulge.”

“The Order of Ferblanc has ties to Catholicism from what I understand,” Amias said. “They originally were the exorcism and demonology arm back in the Dark Ages, but split away the more the religion turned towards souls, the afterlife, and politics. Is that satisfactory enough?”

Nellie could hear the floorboards squeaking as they shifted. The squeak retreated, signaling to her that Nathalie was moving towards the kitchen. She would not be able to eavesdrop on what Nathalie asked.

“Crawlspace,” Nellie muttered. “Stay here, Ash.”

She army-crawled under the house, hissing over her shoulder at Ash to be quiet and stay put. She pushed the large, plastic tubs of junk out of her way the best she could.

“Rhys told our older brother that this… Regere is dangerous,” Nathalie said. “He was very clear that he have nothing to do with Nellie. Am I going to need to pack up and move now that he knows where she is, or is he content to respect Rhys’s wishes and leave her be?”

“The Regere is a complicated man,” Amias said. “At the moment, he expresses no want to interfere with Perenelle, but he does have a desire to meet her at the same time.”

“Is he dangerous,” Nathalie asked again, more firmly.

“Extremely,” Amias said. “His amount of power makes him so by default. Would he harm Perenelle is what you wish to ask. No. He would not.” There was a long pause. “Not intentionally. May I vent just a moment?”

“I suppose so…,” Nathalie said unsurely.

“I’m angry with Brecken over Brue,” Amias said. “But, I am removed enough from the family aspect to understand he is not fully at fault.” He cleared his throat. “More to the point we need to discuss, Perenelle isn’t a normal child. If–.”

“Of course she’s normal,” Nathalie snapped.

“No, she’s not,” Amias said. “That animal outside is proof enough without her confirming she senses my magic.”

Nellie tensed as the floor creaked over her head. She tried not to imagine Amias or Nathalie suddenly falling through, telling herself that the floor held so far and it was still strong. She did start to shuffle back towards the exit though. She could hear Ash still snuffling at the opening, scratching at the ground to widen it to enter himself.

She pulled out from under the house, pushing Ash back to climb to her feet. She smooshed his face, ruffling his head, and trotted off towards his house. She ushered him inside just as the front door opened.

“Nellie,” Nathalie called. “Oh, good, you’re shutting him away. Keep him in for now, please, and come….” Nathalie scowled, putting her hands on her hips as she looked Nellie up and down as she approached the house. “You’re filthy!”

“We were roughhousing,” Nellie lied.

“Well, come say goodbye to Mr. Baig before you wash up,” Nathalie said. “We’ll go out for lunch.”

“He can’t leave,” Nellie said. “He promised we’d talk!”

“And so we shall, my lamb,” Amias said, coming to the door. He smiled down at her. “I was informed you’re on break from school. Your aunt has agreed we can meet for lunch tomorrow.” His eyes darted to Nathalie. “So long as she chaperones.”

“Okay… as long as we can talk,” Nellie said. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow… um… Mr. Baig.”

He regarded her with amusement, but did not urge her to call him anything else. He gave a nod to Nathalie–recieving one in return–and walked off the steps. He looked odd in his fine suit walking up the driveway. He followed the curve through the woods, walking out of sight.

“Sorry he kept calling you my…,” Nellie trailed away, looking down at her soiled shoes.

Nathalie clasped her arm around Nellie’s muddy and cobwebbed shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “Come get washed up.”

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I just put Nellie's birthday as March 15th so it was right in the middle of the month. Which is what I did with Rook, so they have the same birthday, I guess, lol.

Spring Break for what would be Nellie's school zone started April 1st in 2024. I wanted so badly to put in an April Fool reference, but Amias wouldn't know/celebrate/acknowledge that day, neither would Nathalie, and neither would Nellie both because she was raised by Nathalie and because the kids now don't seem to participate after age 8.