Tag Archives: fiction

Winding Down a Bit

So… It was all over, wasn’t it? Kilbourne was dealt with, and we had nothing but time and questions on our hand. We were just going to have to go home, rest, and figure out where our lives were going from this point on.

I had almost saved myself—it was just me and Kilbourne in that room, after all, and I could have walked out and left him. At the same time, unbeknownst to me, April had made contact with Larabee and gotten the cavalry to us. So I’m not really sure if we have to count that as a rescue. At any rate, now we were… free.

Done.

This was kind of like… the end, right?

Okay, no, there were a few things to wrap up first…

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“They are so pissed. I think you just got fired.”

“I thought I quit back when I found out they lied to me all my life,” Clayton said, shaking his head. He hadn’t gone back to work since he’d been kidnapped by Kilbourne’s people the first time. “And I keep trying to tell everyone—even myself—that I didn’t know he was really allergic. I mean, who is allergic to spandex? Like… no one. And deathly allergic? I didn’t even know that was possible. And it’s not like he started choking or gave any signs of real distress. I thought he was kidding! I didn’t think he would die! I had no idea that was going to happen. If I’d known…”

“Clayton, it is not your fault,” April said, trying to calm him down, again. He gave her a small, grateful smile. He didn’t know what he’d do without her. Her patience and rationality during all of this had been invaluable. Of course, her presence also unsettled him because she was pregnant and he was pretty much terrified by the idea of being a father. Still, when it came to helping him cope with the whole involuntary manslaughter thing that had happened, she was the best person for it. “You didn’t know, and you couldn’t trust him. Imagine what he might have done to you if he had tricked you. What he had already done. What he wanted to do to the baby. It wasn’t a risk you could really have taken. If you’d let him go, he could have started the whole thing again.”

“I know; I know,” Clay agreed, closing his eyes for a moment. “I just… I don’t ever think I’ll stop feeling guilty even if I know I didn’t really have much of a choice. Maybe I should have erred on the side of caution, but caution for him could have cost me everything. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“You never knew what to do.”

“Thanks for that, Larabee.”

Larabee shrugged. April glared at him. He went back to the papers he was working on. “It was one of our plans, and our plans never go right. Kilbourne getting caught in that inevitable crossfire was bound to happen, and with that in mind, I don’t think it’s worth punishing anyone over. The authorities certainly didn’t see it that way.”

“You just said they fired him.”

“Right,” Larabee agreed. “But no one arrested him or pressed charges or anything. That’s what I mean. They all agree that Kilbourne’s death was an accident. They’re only angry because they wanted answers.”

“So did we, but we’re not getting them, so screw them,” April muttered angrily. She rubbed her back a little, closing her eyes. Clay frowned, and she pulled him over so she could lean against him. “I’m fine. And the baby’s fine. Remember, they checked us all out. Don’t start panicking on me now. Back pain is apparently normal.”

“I know, but—”

“You don’t have to worry through every single step of this thing.”

“Yeah, the kid’s a future superhero. He’ll survive anything, no problem,” Larabee added, trying to be helpful. Clayton shot him a dirty look.

April shook her head. “We don’t know whether we’re having a boy or a girl yet, Larabee. Stop making costumes.”

“Hey, I can make them unisex. It’ll be fine.”

“I don’t even want to know,” April sighed. She looked up at Clayton. “You’re still worried about the baby getting your ability, aren’t you?”

“Kind of hard not to be,” Clay admitted. “I mean, we know I was genetically modified but not how or why and—Oh, I almost forgot! We do have answers. Maybe. Assuming they didn’t pay attention to the computer…”

“What are you talking about?”

“I told Kilbourne’s computer to upload everything to my online storage account. Since I kept losing computers, I got that huge one, remember? So it should, hopefully, have copied all of that stuff to it. It’s probably encrypted or useless, but we have something, and I don’t know that they know that we have it, which is something in of itself. And who knows if they’ll find what I did or not. The point is, if it did work—”

“Which assumes a lot for us and our plans and our kind of… luck,” Larabee interrupted, and Clayton and April glared at him. He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, let’s just assume it worked. Even if it only got a few things, it’s more than we had before, and we’re going to go with that.”

“Exactly.”

“Which means someone—cough—the mad scientist—cough—will have a bunch of data to go through instead of making baby costumes,” Clayton told Larabee with a bright smile.

Larabee stuck out his bottom lip, almost pouting. “But… but… look! Look at the things I could make if I learned to knit!”*

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*to see the sort of knitting items Larabee might make, click here.

Author’s Note: It was important to me that the allies find a way to trust each other, to connect and build a working relationship that they could use against the tyrants, and they fell into a comfortable banter that I enjoyed writing.

Crossing the Catacombs

“Do these catacombs run everywhere underneath the city?”

“Almost, yes,” Agache answered, and she found herself smiling at him. She’d been able to shed the hood, and even though she still couldn’t see much of her surroundings, she welcomed this lack of sight. This was what she needed after a day with Malzhi, more so than the bath she’d had earlier. The cool air, so different after days of insufferable heat, made her almost feel as though she had found her way back to her homeland. True, this was damper than her land, but she could not help but enjoy the respite it offered her. She could stay down here forever—she was all too tempted to do so.

“Then you must come here often.”

“We do. If it were possible and would not lead to the end of its availability, we would live here. The trouble is, if the king knows we value anything, he destroys it. We lost half the catacombs that way, the deeper areas that we had started to call home. He had them closed off, destroyed the supports and buried some of our people with them.” Agache sighed, shaking his head. “We are all drawn here, but we do not spend as much time here as we would like. It is too dangerous.”

She nodded. Agache stopped, pushing back his hood, and she blinked, not sure if her eyes were deceiving her or not. “Are you… glowing?”

He laughed. “I am, actually. It is something else we do, all part of being creatures of the darkness or the night, whichever way you prefer to see it. I know it gets darker up ahead, and if we are to continue on, you will need light. Is this enough or should I take off the cloak?”

She did not know that she needed more light, but she had only seen his face a few times, and she didn’t like speaking to their hoods all the time. “I think it might be better if there is some more illumination. Unless, of course, you are naked under there, and then you may keep it on. I have no need to see that.”

He reached up and undid the clasp holding the cloak to his neck. Taking it off, he set it on the rock nearby. “As much as it can be rather stifling under the cloaks, we do not go about with nothing under them. Well, I cannot speak for everyone, but most of us learn not to as children. There are… insects that will make you quite miserable if you run about with nothing but a cloak. Some of the young who come down here to meet with their lovers have paid for that pleasure with infections and illness. No deaths that I know of, but it would not be impossible.”

“I suppose, too, that if your people were threatened the way I have been, they’d not want to give anyone such easy access to their bodies,” she said, and he gave a slight nod of his head, causing some of his hair to fall forward. She reached up and then withdrew her hand, not knowing why she’d thought she had any right to touch him. “Is all of your hair like that, too? So… white?”

“White is inaccurate. It possesses no color at all. Since I am… glowing, you see the light that my skin reflects, not the true color of my hair. Were we in another place, it would not seem white at all.”

“That is fascinating.”

“Now you know why Malzhi considers us worms.”

She had known before, but she was still learning much about Agache and his people. “So you do not show any of the other side of your ancestry?”

“What do you mean?”

“Anokii told me you’re the king’s cousin. You have the blood of his ancestors in you, too, don’t you? Yet I see no sign of that in you.”

He let out a breath. “You do not want to see that side of me. Come. The meeting place is just around the corner. If I am correct in my timing, Gekin and Anokii will be reaching that point about the same time, and she will take you back to the castle.”

“So, even though you dragged me out to your meeting place in the middle of the night, you’re not going to have an actual meeting? Where are you going?”

“You are… difficult.”

“I was trained to be. Do not think I will tolerate this kind of thing. I have been threatened and drugged and almost killed since I came here, and I have to go back knowing that the same could happen all over again. Malzhi has returned, and he was… worse than before in how he behaved today. I do not want to speak to him again, and while I know why you wanted that, I cannot agree to it again, or even to this. You cannot wake me for no purpose. I do not have the patience or the ability to—”

“I did not say there was to be no meeting. I cannot be much of a part of it as I have already spent too long here, but Gekin has information you need, and Anokii can guide you back. I admit I was a bit… foolish in coming for you myself, but Anokii was always kind to me when I was younger, and I know how much she longs to be with her husband.”

“Gekin is her husband? No one told me that.”

“Officially, of course, we are not allowed to marry. Or have children. The king wants us to die off, and we have been, but not fast enough for his liking. Their marriage is forbidden, but if we allowed the king to have his way in those matters, why would we bother living?”

“I don’t know,” the queen said, closing her eyes. “Such a life is not… It does not feel worth living.”

Agache put a hand on her shoulder. “As miserable as this life makes you, as much danger as you are in, you have a purpose. Your presence here keeps peace between this land and yours, and that is time that we need. The more of my people we can get out of the suns, the more we can have to fight against him if that time comes. Malzhi is weak to you, and we will exploit that. You have managed more disruption of the court in the few months you’ve been here than I did in many years.”

She almost smiled, but she could not manage it. “I would not have come, not if I had a choice.”

“I know,” he said. She opened her eyes, surprised to find understanding and not disapproval in his face after that admission. “When I… escaped, I thought about leaving everything behind. I didn’t want to come back to this place and this role and continue the fight. I wanted to run.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I was already dead. I might as well make that death have a purpose.”

Author’s Note: Robert had a long night. He might not have been thinking clearly. I might not have been, either.

Awkward Once Again

“How are you feeling?”

“I think I feel better than you look,” Violet said, rubbing her back and wondering what left him in such a state. He appeared so haggard that she would have thought he’d spent the night drinking, though that would be difficult in a dry town, but then again, a man determined to drink would find a way—and it was not that far to their sister city where alcohol had never been banned. “What happened?”

“Oh, I thought… I thought, that’s what I did. Over and over, all night through, didn’t do anything but think. That left me rather lacking in sleep, and so I suppose I must seem rather… unkempt despite my best efforts to be presentable.”

She shook her head. “Your clothes are in order. You just look as though you are ailing somehow.”

“I rather feel it,” he said, letting out a breath as he sat down. “I’ve been trying to determine what I should do at this point, and I can’t seem to make a decision that I stick to for more than a few minutes. I thought I’d stay and ask others about the man who stole my name, but I am not certain there is much point. If he told them the same stories as the ones he told you, then all I end up doing is repeating what I already know. If I don’t ask them, there’s asking you, but that has been causing you a great deal of grief lately, and I do not want to do that again. I should probably go home. I think there is very little I can do here.”

“Oh.”

She fidgeted, not certain that she liked that idea much, even with the way she’d struggled with every time he claimed one of the stories as his own instead of Winston’s. She didn’t want him to go, but she was also wondering if that might not be for the best. She didn’t know. She was still very confused. She didn’t like this sort of confusion, either. She was sick at heart, sick to her stomach thanks to her child, and she could hardly think, so she felt even worse than she had during the most terrible time of her pregnancy so far.

Oh, she did not think she would survive to see the child born, not with all this strain.

“Violet?”

She looked up, biting her lip. “I am sorry. I did not mean to become distracted. I have been trying to find… Did you put the inn as your address on those letters you sent? Or did you have them sent to your home?”

He frowned. “I… I think I wrote down the inn since I was still expecting to be here, and I didn’t want to send them to my home just to have someone interfere with them. I would not trust my father with them, not with the way he had opened other letters of yours and thought this matter could be ignored. Any response I got might never reach me if I had it sent home first.”

“So then you have to wait here to get it? Or can you have them send it on to you when you are back home?”

“That is another delay on the information that has already taken long enough to acquire.”

“Yes.”

“I suppose I cannot leave immediately, though I might have been tempted.”

She let out a breath, not sure that she dared be relieved by the idea of him staying. She shouldn’t be. She should be bothered by it, shouldn’t she? She did not know anymore. “The cook wasn’t fooled by the tomatoes, was she?”

He laughed. “Well, she shouldn’t have been, but there was a commotion that day because of the rat—that had nothing to do with me, I swear—and so by the time she got to baking the pie, she didn’t know her right hand from her left. That poor woman. She hated me so much… I remember I ran off to find some strawberries to replace the ones that I’d switched with tomatoes and—”

“Oh, this must be worse than the rest of it. What did you find? A poisonous plant?”

He smiled. “No, I didn’t. I did know what most of those were, at least. No, I went all the way into town, went to the market, bought as many of those beautiful little strawberries I could find and come to find out later that they are raspberries and that I am allergic to them. Oh, the cook liked that, I can assure you. She became a true master at baking anything and everything with raspberries in it.”

Violet found herself laughing. She shouldn’t find this so amusing, but she did. “What about the tomato pie?”

“You should have seen my father’s face. I wish I’d had a camera just then, but then you’re supposed to hold still for that, and he’d never have allowed such a violation of his dignity. He doesn’t much care for cameras. Mother adapted to that better than he did. She’s the one who insists on having them instead of painted likenesses of us all. I think my father would like to burn them all someday, but he is too vain to destroy his own face.”

“It’s not much of a face.”

Robert frowned. “You haven’t seen my father.”

She grimaced. “I… Winston showed me a picture of his father once. I suppose I don’t know if that man was even his father. I don’t know anything about him. He wasn’t your father, though, and I don’t know why I said that. I know better.”

“Sometimes it must be very hard to tell us apart.”

She lowered her head. “Yes, it is. It has been so much harder than I thought it would ever be. You do not look that much alike or sound that much alike, but with those stories he stole from you… I don’t know what to do.”

“I can go. I had come only to tell you that I was going—”

“You’re not, though. You decided not to go.”

“I… Yes, I suppose I am staying, but that doesn’t mean I have to stay here bothering you.”

“You are not bothering me.”

“I’m not?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Author’s Note: Carson decided to wander off, and so he missed the parade. It was a choice between the mystery plot and the parade, and the mystery won, really.

Facing the Music

“You missed the parade.”

She should hate him for that, and Carson wouldn’t blame her if she did. He had kind of promised to be there for it, but he hadn’t been. He should have tried to make it there, but he hadn’t known where the nursing home was to meet them, and by the time he thought he was getting close, he’d seen the parade going through town. “I know.”

“You had me worried.”

Yeah, he’d figured he’d end up doing that, too. That wasn’t his intention, and that bothered him more than breaking his promise—knowing that he’d upset her and made her worry about him, but he hadn’t thought he’d had a choice. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Mackenna asked, shaking her head. “I don’t think so. Sorry doesn’t cut it. Where have you been? You don’t know anyone here, and you weren’t in the Legion. If you’d gone to the church, your brothers would have seen you because they went there to get shirts, and so you weren’t there, either. You weren’t near the cars, and I didn’t see you anywhere at the lake or at the nursing home, so what the hell? Where have you been?”

Carson sighed. “I was… Down at the lake, I could have sworn someone was watching me, so… I separated myself from everyone and wandered on my own for a while—no specific purpose or plan, just walked and walked—until I figured he’d had plenty of chance to confront me. He didn’t. I don’t know who or where he is. I don’t even know if he was ever following me.”

She sighed. “Damn it, Carson. If there was someone following you, then I needed to know. Your brothers should have known. We should all have been watching you—making sure we found this guy and that you stayed safe. If someone is after you, it’s because they’re afraid of what you remember, and that means that they might kill you, too, like they did your father.”

He nodded. “I know. I… It was stupid, and it dawned on me halfway through the walk that I was being dumb about it, but by then I was kind of lost, and I didn’t have my cellphone with me—I think I left it at Jim and Natalie’s because I was so distracted by the costume idea—and I don’t even know that it would work here because I know it wasn’t working the last time I looked.”

“Okay, well, that’s got to change. No more going off without your phone. Even if the service is spotty, you need it. Also, no going off on your own. It’s one thing to need space or the bathroom or that sort of thing, but when you disappear for over an hour and miss an event, you scare the hell out of people.”

He grimaced. He had not meant to do that, not when he started out. He’d figured it would be easy to tell if he was being tailed, but it wasn’t as simple as the movies made it seem, and while he had still felt like someone was watching him, he never caught anyone doing it, just like the last time. “I won’t. I’m sorry. My paranoia is getting the better of me. I don’t like it, but that’s what keeps happening. I just wish I could get that last part of it back so that I could stop obsessing.”

“It’ll come. Be patient.”

“That is easier said than done.”

“I know,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “Don’t ever do that to me again. I don’t like not knowing where you are or if you’re hurt. I had all these horrible images of what could have happened to you in my head, and I don’t think I was really there for the parade at all. I suppose I smiled and waved and all that, but I don’t remember doing it. All I could think about was you.”

He leaned his head against hers. He should push her away because his mind was bound to take the wrong sort of turn again like it had ever since he’d seen her in that dress this morning, but he liked having her close all the same. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Then don’t go off on your own. Promise?”

“Promise.” He slipped out of her hold and looked at her. “I know there’s a steak dinner tonight, but I’m not in the mood. Can you drop me off back at Jim and Natalie’s before you eat? I think I need a shower—well, I know I do. After the sun and this outfit, I’m kind of rank—and I’ll go to sleep early since we’ve got to leave before seven tomorrow, don’t we?”

“That’s when the starting gun goes off, yes.”

“That’s crazy.”

“It’s not so bad. There’s always doughnuts and coffee and other goodies at the first stop, and that makes the early morning worth it.”

“If you say so.”

“Let me go give our tickets to your brothers. They were so disappointed that they were going to miss out on the steak, but I think I’m with you. I could use a cool shower and an early night. Besides, we have a puzzle to finish.”

Carson laughed, shaking his head. She dragged him with her, still unwilling to let him out of her sight, and he should have known she’d be like that after what he’d done, but he didn’t know that he’d survive being alone with her, either. He’d just have to be too tired to finish the puzzle. That was it.

What Price Victory?

I have to admit, that moment left me rather… stunned.

I hadn’t figured on him telling the truth. It never worked that way. It was supposed to be a big trick. A joke. I don’t know—everything with spandex seemed like nothing more than a big laugh for us. So when this came around, we had to figure—okay, I was the only one there—I had to figure it was just another joke.

It was Kilbourne, so it had to be another trick.

Didn’t it?

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“Dude, nice work, Clayton.”

“Uh, not so sure it’s good. I think he might be dead.”

“Dead?”

“Death by spandex,” Clay whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. Larabee shot him a dirty look as he went over to Kilbourne. April came up to him and wrapped her arms around him, but Clay didn’t feel much comfort at the moment. “I think I killed him. I know he made me a genetic freak and he nearly killed me—well, let someone else do it, actually—and he threatened us and the baby, but I didn’t actually mean to kill him. I can’t even believe I hit him that much. That wasn’t me. Well, it was, but it didn’t feel like me. It was like that saying about how anyone’s capable of murder? Yeah, I guess I am when my wife and child are threatened, but I didn’t mean to do this. He wasn’t supposed to die.”

“You can’t kill someone by spandex, Clay,” April said, shaking her head. She tightened her grip on him, leaning against him and closing her eyes. “I am so glad you’re you right now. I didn’t know what we’d find when we got back to you.”

“Oh, he injected me with something, but you know how drugs work with me—never the way they’re supposed to. So I don’t know how long I was out, but I woke up a bit high, found he’d undone the restraints, started copying his computer, and then confronted him when he came back.”

“Wow. Sounds like you had it all under control.”

“Larabee, I killed the man by tying him up in spandex. Exactly how is that under control?” Clay demanded, lowering his head. “I mean, it makes sense now—I hated spandex because he was allergic to it, and he created me, but I thought he had to be kidding.”

“He was. Death by spandex is impossible,” April insisted. She turned around. “Isn’t it?”

Larabee shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s definitely dead, though, so there goes all the answers we were going to get from him.”

“I don’t know that I care so much about answers,” April admitted. She pulled Clay’s arms around her and put his hands on her stomach, and he tried not to freak out about that. “We were doing well enough without knowing about the experiments or what Kilbourne was doing, and he can’t do it anymore. This is a victory. Not the greatest because someone died, but still, it’s over, isn’t it?”

“More or less.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Clay muttered, letting go of April and moving back to the sink to throw up for a second time.

“You know, she’s the pregnant one.”

“Larabee, leave him alone. Kilbourne may have been a bastard, but that doesn’t mean Clay is just going to be okay with the fact that he’s gone,” April told him, moving over to rub Clayton’s back. He shuddered a little, not sure if he was heaving or trying to cry. He didn’t know what to think or feel at the moment. Oh, and there was that other thing…

“How are we supposed to be parents? We can’t be parents. I can’t be a parent. Look at me. I’m one big screw up from start to finish. Kilbourne made me to be something I’m definitely not, I have a lame superpower, my job and most of my life is all a careful manipulation by people who didn’t have the decency to inform me that I was a science experiment, no plan ever goes right for me, and I just killed a man using spandex.”

She kissed his cheek and took his hand. “I know our plans never work, but you know what? We’re used to that. That actually makes us better prepared than most people who go into this with great plans for what they’ll do and who their children will be.”

“Yes, but most of them aren’t genetic freaks.”

“Okay, if this baby decides to have a random growth spurt and pop out of my stomach like that alien thing in that movie, I’m going to hurt you. A lot. But then again, it took two of us to make it, so you know… we’re in it together. Just like we agreed we were when we got married.”

Clay reached over and touched her face. “Can’t you just tell me you were kidding? And that he was? It would kind of be nice if this was a joke. At least the death by spandex part.”

“This isn’t a joke.”

“Oh, right. This is my life. And it still sucks.”

“Clayton, do not make me hurt you right now. I know you’re upset and worried, but do not say that,” she warned, and he sighed, trying to find a way to make this better somehow. He had no idea. He couldn’t fix it.

“Maybe we should just go home.”

“That sounds like a good idea to me,” Larabee said, putting his arms around both of their shoulders, herding them toward the door. “See, you’re going to need a lot of stuff if you’re going to do this, and I think I have the perfect solution—”

“No way in hell are you being our nanny, Larabee.”

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Author’s Note: I admit… I wrote the first version of this scene a while back. It was a moment I wanted to see, some interaction between the queen and Agache after she knew he was alive, the way they became allies and built upon that to work against the king and people like Malzhi.

Amazing, really, that they got anything done with how easily distracted they are. 😛

A Visit in the Night

“Jis.”

She opened her eyes, frowning as she did. At first, she did not recognize where she was, thinking she should be in a much smaller chamber, one that was much darker, without the sunlight peaking underneath it. She knew it was because she’d heard her name, making her think that she was home. She should have known better. She had been tired before, and she’d blamed the bath Malzhi had more or less forced upon her, but she reconsidered that now.

He must have used his herbs on her again. That was the only thing she could think of that explained why she felt like this, why she’d reacted in so foolish a manner. She should not have forgotten that she was the queen. She could not have forgotten it, not for more than a moment. She sat up, blinking as she saw the shadow move. Right. A cloak. “Agache?”

“You should not use or even know that word,” he said, moving toward the bed. “What is your obsession with names? Why must you use them?”

“It is not such a crime in my land.”

“You came here using another woman’s name, not your own. Why would names matter so much?”

Despite the hour and the way she’d been awoken, she had to smile. “For that very reason—because they have been forbidden and concealed. When you have been someone else for any length of time, your own identity is that much more valuable. Names are a large part of that.”

“Does Jis have a particular meaning?”

Her smile fell. She was not amused any longer, nor did she want to discuss why she had the name she did. “You woke me in the middle of the night to ask about names?”

“You made names an issue by using mine.”

She reached under her pillow and gripped her blade, drawing it out so that he could see it. “Why did you wake me? I don’t sleep well as it is, and you know I’ve killed at least one man, so why would you risk coming in here without a very, very good reason?”

“It is not like I can visit you during the daytime. I am supposed to be dead, after all, and while the cloak may conceal my face, my voice is too well known. Come. There is a place I must show you. We do not have much time.”

She glared at him. “I know we agreed to be… allies, and I should listen to you, but no. You do not get to wake me like this and make demands. I don’t want to go anywhere, not after the day I had—definitely not without an explanation for what you want and why I should go with you.”

“I need to show you the place where we should conduct our meetings—and we should do so at night. It is true that I can pass through the castle mostly unnoticed because of their general disregard for my people, but you know that I cannot spend any sort of extended time speaking to you. Nor can any of your servants. You are watched during the day, but at night, you may join us. Sleep is a luxury that we do not have.”

She groaned. He would say something like that. “I thought you didn’t need sleep.”

“If we were in our homeland, perhaps not. You will see what I mean when you come with me. We do not have a lot of time. The king should be revealing his return today. You will not want to be late for that, and we will not have another opportunity to go for some time, as he will have you watched and be watching himself.”

She shivered. She was struggling with her interactions with Malzhi—he had her at a disadvantage far too often—and she did not know that she could cope with the king as well. She would die soon, that seemed almost certain now. She rose, about to pull on her robe when Agache handed her one of their cloaks. She frowned. “You want me to dress like one of you? Won’t your people be in trouble if—”

“You cannot tell any difference between one of them or one of us under the cloaks. We have used such means before. If you use this cloak to go back and forth, people will think you are your maid, and they will pay little attention to you.”

“You want me to put her at risk?”

“She has been for many years. She accepts what she does and the risk that comes with it. We all do. Most of our people understand the need for what we are doing—though there are still some that refuse to take part. I do not blame them for wanting peace, but I do not see how they can live the way they do and do nothing about it.”

The queen nodded. She pulled the cloak over her, raising the hood over her face. “I can’t see.”

“Well, we are both ones who act, not who stay still.”

She laughed. “While that is true, in some sense, I was not speaking of that. I can’t see.”

“Oh. Yes, I suppose you’re not used to that, either. We need it much darker than you would,” he said, taking hold of her arm. “Here. Let me guide you. Our eyes are different as well, all part of us thriving in the darkness. Our land rarely saw the sun, if the tales are true. I’ve never been there. We were taken far from home, and all we have now are stories.”

“I asked Anokii to tell me them. She started to, but she did not finish.”

“There are many legends. I am sure that your people have plenty as well. If we had time, perhaps I would regale you with one, but we should be silent after we reach your door. Our voices make the deception of the cloaks useless.”

She nodded. “I know. Still… I think I’d like to hear you tell one someday.”

“I would be glad to, my lady.”

She snorted. “You know you needn’t bother calling me that. Considering that I’m not one of the legitimate daughters, I cannot truly be a queen, and your people owe no allegiance to the man who oppressed you.”

He shook his head. “Here, you are the queen. Do not forget that.”

“How could I?”

Author’s Note: All of a sudden, I was reminded just how alone Robert was in this thing. At least Violet has some support in her mother and aunt, but his family didn’t see the problem, and given the time period, he’s got no friends to rely on, either. Poor guy.

An After Dinner Drink

“Is there something else I can get you, Mr. Winston?”

Robert looked up from his plate and shook his head. He hadn’t managed to eat much of any of his meal, not able to think about anything but the fact that even more of his childhood had been usurped by a man he didn’t know. How could that man know so much of Robert when he knew nothing of him? That did not seem possible.

“Is something wrong?”

He looked up at his hostess and forced a smile. “I apologize. My mind is on other matters, and no, the food was excellent. I am not… Can I ask you something? Is there a reason you didn’t serve a drink with dinner?”

“This is a temperate town. When it was formed, the charter said no alcohol.”

“Oh.”

“Ah, now, Mabel, don’t be that way,” the innkeeper said, coming around to the table. “Fact is, our neighbors down south are not temperate, and it’s damn easy to get a hold of the stuff if we want to, though plenty of folks don’t bother.”

“And the town is much better off for it,” his wife said, wiping her hands on her apron and walking away, her head held high. The innkeeper shook his head, turning back to Robert with a smile.

“Don’t mind Mabel. She’s been ready to fight with anyone and everyone since our son died in the war. He was the only one were blessed to have, you know, and losing him liked to have killed her. Not sure she’ll ever be the same. Haven’t seen her smile since the day we got word.”

“My mother went to her bed for a week when they were notified about me, and I was only wounded, not dead.”

“You were over there?”

Robert nodded. He had forgotten that he didn’t want to discuss that with a man who’d lost his son. He was no hero, and he didn’t know why he’d survived when this family had lost their son. “I was. Took a bullet a few months back and got shipped home.”

“The arm?”

“Yes.”

The innkeeper walked over to the cabinet against the wall and unlocked it, taking out a bottle. He carried it back to the table. He poured some in Robert’s water glass and pushed it toward him. “Does it hurt?”

“When the weather changes, mostly. The problem is that half the time I can’t feel it. It’s just numb. Sometimes I wonder if I’d be better off if they’d amputated it,” Robert said, reaching for the glass. He took a sip and looked at the other man. “Did you talk much with the man you knew as Robert Winston?”

“Some, not much.”

“Did he mention anything about his childhood?”

The innkeeper frowned. “Something you have in mind?”

“He told Mrs. Winston stories that were from my childhood. At least three of them, perhaps more. I keep thinking I should know him, but I haven’t figured out how. If there was something that he told you or anyone else that could help me find the connection… That’s what I need. I don’t want to push her any further. I… I managed to leave her in tears, twice, because it would seem that I have taken away all that she thought she knew of him.”

The innkeeper leaned back with his drink, sipping from it. “That is interesting. I guess I didn’t give much thought to whether or not you’d know this fellow. It’s an interesting problem. We had no reason not to think that he was the man he said he was, but then we don’t know him or you.”

Robert turned the liquor around in his glass. “I am starting to think he could have fooled people who did know me. If I had died overseas, would he just have taken my place?”

“Hard to say.”

Robert closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I told you all that. It’s not the liquor—I can and have drank much more without a reaction—it’s more that I haven’t been able to discuss any of this with anyone but Mrs. Winston. The moment I started talking, I apparently couldn’t stop.”

“I think that young woman is a very good listener, but you need more than that considering that she is a part of what you need to talk out, if you’re going to talk about it at all. I’m surprised you came here alone.”

“Most of my friends are still overseas if not dead, and my family… Well, they blamed the whole thing on Mrs. Winston and did not care to look further than that.”

The innkeeper shook his head. “No. Never. Even with her husband abandoning her, she’s not that type of woman. She’s got integrity. She’s impressed me, not giving up after he left her and she found out she had a child. Plenty of women would have.”

“I find her very admirable as well.” Robert finished his drink. “Please do not say anything about me marrying her. This situation is far too complicated already.”

“It’s not my place to say anything about that.”

Robert rose, nodding as he did. “I think it’s best if I excuse myself and try to get some sleep. I… Thank you for everything. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

A thousand things crossed his mind there that he could ask for, many of them impossible or impractical, but even the ones that he thought he could have gotten stayed locked in his head. His eyes went back to the table, to the bottle the other man had left sitting there, and he shook his head as he turned away, not allowing himself to ask.

He had enough problems without adding drunkenness to them.

Author’s Note: So… A bit of panic never hurt anyone, right?

Someone Might Be Missing

“Have you seen your brother? He wandered off after we got back, and I thought he was going for air-conditioning, but he doesn’t seem to be anywhere that I can see. It’s getting close to time for the parade,” Mackenna said, giving each of the others a look. Carson had been a little off after he went to the shore, quiet all the way back into town, but she hadn’t thought anything was wrong. He needed to cool off, and she’d gotten caught talking to a couple of other owners while his brothers went their own way as well.

She hadn’t been worried until she’d gone in the Legion and not seen him anywhere. She supposed he could be other places, too, but that didn’t reassure her much. She didn’t want to lose track of Carson now, not when he was recovering memories and could be in some kind of fugue or something. She didn’t want him hurting himself somehow.

“No, sorry. We wandered off to find the people selling the shirts,” Larry said, tugging on his new purchase. “Figured we’d do better being a bit official-like since we were taking up space in your car. Carrie still thinks we’re nuts, but we’ve been having a blast, so why not support the cause a little?”

Mackenna smiled. “I’m not entirely sure you’re contributing to the cost of anything except the printing of the shirts, but I think they’re great to have. If you feel like spending more money, you could always do the raffle. That goes to the nursing home, I think.”

“Already did. Carrie liked the blanket a lot, so we bought a few tickets. Not expecting to win, but that’s okay. If the money helps the nursing home, I’m all for it,” Nick said, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist. She rolled her eyes, but her annoyance faded when he kissed her cheek. They were a cute couple, Mackenna couldn’t help thinking, and she had to wonder if that ran in the family. Maybe, after what Carson had said about Larry and his ex.

“Will you do me a favor and check the bathroom for Carson? There’s more than one in the Legion, and just in case he was in there when I checked the rest of the place, I’d appreciate it. We’re going to need to drive Shadow down to the nursing home in a bit, and he should be back by now.”

“He probably just lost track of time,” Larry told her, putting a hand on her arm. “No need to panic just yet.”

She tried to smile. “I wish I could, but that’s not—that’s not me. I’ve been more worried about him than I should have been pretty much from the moment that we met. I don’t want to be, but that’s how it goes sometimes.”

“We’ll check. Anywhere else you want us to look? I mean, it is possible that he already headed over to the nursing home, isn’t it?”

“Unlikely that he walked that far, but yeah, I guess it is,” Mackenna said. She didn’t like this. The longer it went without her seeing Carson, the more upset she got. She was starting to think something had happened to him, and she didn’t want to think that.

What if those eyes he’d felt the other day weren’t just his paranoia? What if someone here really was watching him?

“Did you tell your uncle about coming down here?”

Nick frowned. “Um, no. Why?”

“I was just… thinking.”

“Thinking about Uncle Tim? Why?”

“Because she thinks he might have killed Dad, that’s why, stupid,” Larry said, and Nick glared back at him. He shrugged before turning to Mackenna. “We all have our issues with our uncle, though it’s true he’s got some kind of weird vendetta against Carson, made worse by Carson getting what was in the barn. I don’t know if that was because of the car or because he was thinking the livestock went to baby brother, but Carson already told him he wasn’t taking any of the cows. He put the scrap metal aside to sell and only took the car. Tim hated Dad, yeah, but I don’t know that he could have killed him. He wouldn’t be down here, though. He’d have no way of knowing that’s where we were because we didn’t tell him.”

“Someone else could have, though.” Mackenna heard herself say. “Everyone at the Legion back home knew we were going. We talked about it Sunday night when we met with Mac’s friends, and even if they didn’t mention it, Chambers might have.”

“Chambers is still alive? Amazing. I’d have thought he’d have been pounded for good by now. He was always asking for it when we were younger.”

“Believe me, he’s still asking for it now.”

“We can make sure he stops.”

She almost laughed. “No, don’t, I don’t need you to pick any fights for me. It’s okay. I handle him just fine. Let’s just find your brother.”

Allergies, True or False?

Kilbourne didn’t find the moment all that funny, but me? I couldn’t help laughing. In fact, I pretty much got lost in the laughter for a long time. I couldn’t help it. It was just one of those… things. Larabee had always considered my aversion to spandex irrational—though I still maintain that his obsession was far more irrational and abnormal than my aversion was—but now I had a real reason for it. The man who’d “created” me was allergic to the stuff. It suddenly made sense.

And it was still funny as hell to me.

I distinctly remembered wishing him a long, painful death from spandex—and it actually could happen. He could die of anaphylactic shock. Sure, it wasn’t exactly the worst way to go, and it was more because of the lack of oxygen, but it was still pretty damn awesome in my mind.

The rest of the world was scared of Larabee’s costumes because of their bright colors and blinding designs, but they could kill the monster. The monster was allergic to spandex.

And yes, it was funnier than it should have been. Um, by a lot.

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“Stop laughing, and let me go.”

Clayton gave Kilbourne a look, but that just set him off again. He’d doubled over and actually gotten to the point of rolling around on the floor. He couldn’t help it. It was hilarious to him. After all these years of hating spandex, after wishing Kilbourne a horrible death by spandex, to hear that the man was allergic to it? It was just… priceless. Absolutely priceless. Clay couldn’t pull himself together. He couldn’t stop laughing. He couldn’t do anything at the moment. He just kept laughing like a lunatic.

It felt good to laugh. After all they’d been through, after everything that had gone wrong, everything they’d suffered and screwed up, laughter was nice. Especially here and now. Yes, it was a bit crazy, too, and he knew that. He couldn’t help thinking it was insane, but it wasn’t going to stop, either.

“Moore! This isn’t funny! You have to let me go!”

Clay put a hand on the floor and looked at Kilbourne. The man’s blind panic and obvious fear made him very comical in appearance after the threats and terror he’d inflicted, and that made Clay crack up all over again. He shook his head. “Allergic to spandex…”

“You think this is a joke?”

“No! And that’s what’s so funny!”

“Clearly you were a flawed sample. A specimen that should have been disposed of. If I had been allowed to continue my work, I assure you that you would have been,” Kilbourne grumbled, trying to loosen his bonds. The spandex, treated with Larabee’s special ooze, didn’t budge.

Clay smiled grimly. “Yeah, and again, why would I untie you after that?”

“Because you’re not a killer, Moore, and this will kill me.”

“Please. You don’t even have hives. No skin reddening. No respiratory distress. I think you’re lying,” Clay said, sobering up a little with that realization. He no longer found it funny—not if it was a lie. Then it wasn’t funny at all. Well, maybe a little, but not enough to make him act like he’d been exposed to nitrous oxide. “That actually kind of sucks, did you know that? I kind of liked it when you were allergic to spandex.”

“I am allergic, damn it! Get this stuff off of me!”

Clay rolled his eyes. “The act was funny for a while—a bit too funny—but it’s over now. I’m not amused. Stop trying to fool me. I’m not letting you out of the bonds. I want my answers, remember? I am sick and tired of you manipulating me. I won’t let you do it again. I want to know why you created me, everything you were trying to do, and why I can do what I can do. That’s just… I don’t know, common courtesy? Yeah, pretty much.”

“Let me go!”

Clay sighed, picking himself off the floor. “No. I am not letting you out of there. Fuss and squirm all you like—I know I’d be doing it if I was tied up in spandex because I can’t stand the stuff. Makes me shudder. Then I want to vomit. Especially if Larabee’s wearing one of the—oh, there are not words for that kind of horror. I kind of think that you deserve to see it. I know it broke Brady easily. He spilled everything so fast, and that wasn’t even the worst of the costumes, honestly.”

“I am not joking, Moore. I am not trying to trick you. I am allergic. Let me go. You can have whatever answers you want, but if you do not get this stuff off of me, you’ll get nothing because I’ll be dead.”

“Hmm. Then I guess you’d better start talking because I’m not that stupid. I’m not letting you go.”

Kilbourne continued to struggle in his bonds. Clay leaned against the desk and watched him, sick of this part of the game. He knew better than this, and so did Kilbourne. It was just wasting their time, and Clay didn’t feel like wasting his time. “Is there a file, maybe? A journal or something? I mean, you keep notes on your experiments. You’d have to. It only makes sense to—unless, of course, you believe that the scientific method isn’t worth following. That wouldn’t surprise me. You’re not sane, for one thing, and you seem rather full of yourself, too. So either way, you would do that.”

Kilbourne glared at him. “Should have made you… with better ears… you idiot.”

“My ears are big enough, and I’m not going to fall for the allergic lie, okay? Is there a file or not?”
“Won’t tell you anything unless you untie me.”

“This is such a fun impasse, isn’t it? Not really, but since you’re going to be stubborn, I guess we both will be. No. I don’t know how else to say it, Kilbourne. I’m not letting you go.”

The other man slumped forward in the chair, and Clayton frowned. Huh. Maybe he really was allergic to spandex.

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Author’s Note: So I decided to do this for Carry On Tuesday. It fit with the storytelling idea and once upon a time, plus it continued on well after what Violet and Robert had discussed in the last part. Plus it was another opportunity to show a bit of her relationship with the other Robert Winston.

Telling Tales

“You’re very quiet over there.”

“Can I not simply watch you doing what you do best, my nymph?”

Violet glared at him over the flowers. “No, absolutely not, and if you continue to call me a nymph, I think I shall have to leave you here for the plants to eat.”

Winston laughed. “You see? You do have a connection to them, don’t you? You keep denying what you are, but I know that you are a sprite of some kind, and I will prove it someday.”

“I am a perfectly ordinary woman with a perfectly ordinary temper that is going to order you to leave if you persist in talking such nonsense again. I do not care for it. I know that it has become common to hear and read stories of sprites and fairies, and you see it in so many decorations, but I am not one of them, and I wish you’d stop calling me that. Just because my name is Violet and I like flowers does not make me some… legend of the forest or the garden or anything like it.”

“Do not be cross with me, my dear,” he said, coming over to her, placing his hand on her cheek. “I am sorry. You seem so vexed of late, and I don’t mean to do that to you.”

“The only thing vexing to me is your insistence on calling me a nymph or a sprite.”

“Are you certain it is not your aunt? I can see her scowling at us through the window. She was so angry before I proposed, and now she’s angrier still, when I would have thought that asking for your hand would prove that my intentions were as honorable as possible. That woman hates me for no reason at all.”

“I think she believes that there is no sincerity in you rushing to make such a proposal and that I would be a fool for accepting—”

“Only you haven’t, so what is so foolish about that?”

“Everything and everyone in love is foolish to Aunt Beatrice,” Violet said, not certain who had broken her aunt’s heart and left her so bitter all those years ago, though sometimes she thought it was her father who had, taking up with her mother. In her darker moments, she sometimes wondered if her aunt was the reason for her father’s demise, but then why did she not hate her sister as well? Why blame only the man and not the woman who had his heart? For all Beatrice’s harshness, she was devoted to Violet’s mother, and no one would deny that. She loved her sister more than anything or anyone in the world.

“That I agree with.”

“Stop touching me. It is not proper.”

He sighed. “Then what would you have me do? You say I cannot watch you, I cannot call you as I would, and I am not allowed to touch you, so I don’t—are you asking me to go? Is that it? Should I bow to my lady and take my leave?”

Violet frowned at his tone, not sure why bitterness was creeping in at the end. Sometimes he acted as though she treated him like a servant, and she knew that she didn’t. She didn’t even treat their servants like servants—were it up to her, she wouldn’t have any at all, even if it meant giving up her garden. “No. That is not what I meant at all. Please don’t say ‘my lady’ like that. You sound so… mean. I am not a queen or high born lady ordering anyone about, and if you are still upset about me saying I wanted more time to be certain of my feelings, then you might consider leaving, but you are not bound by my word as law.”

He blinked, and she thought perhaps there had been some woman in his life that treated him that way in the past, though she did not think that fit with what he’d said about his mother. That woman seemed to lack the spirit Violet’s mother did, and she would never have the sort of dauntlessness that Aunt Beatrice did. A governess, perhaps? He had not mentioned one yet, but it was possible.

“Tell me about your childhood. Another story like the beehive or any you want to share.”

“You want to know what Robert Winston was like as a child?”

She almost frowned again, trying to determine what made him ask like that. He said Robert Winston almost like that was someone else and not him. “Yes. I do. I like those stories best.”

He gave her a slight smile, taking her hand and tugging her toward the bench. “Did I tell you about the pies? Robert Winston has a particular weakness for pie, you see, and it just so happened that he happened upon some strawberries set aside for just his sort of treat—”

“How old were you then?”

“Oh, old enough to know better.”

She shook her head, not liking that answer much, but he put a finger over her lips. She could listen to him tell stories all day. He had a true gift for it.

“Once upon a time, there was a boy named Robert Winston, and he liked pies far more than he should. In fact, he had become the bane of the cook, for she would have to swat and scold him out of her kitchen more than once a day as he tried to get at her delightful deserts. On this occasion, the pie was to be strawberry, but someone had snuck into the kitchen the night before and eaten them all. To hide his crime, he had replaced the basket of strawberries with the one full of tomatoes—”

“Oh, surely the cook noticed that immediately.”

Winston frowned at her. “Do you want me to tell the story or not?”

Violet sighed, feeling a bit sheepish. She hadn’t meant to stop him from telling the story, not at all, but she did think that the cook should have noticed, and she would have a hard time believing otherwise, no matter what he said. He must be lying, but she supposed she could forgive that. It was only a story, after all.