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Celestial Souls, Book I: Christine
Chapter Thirteen: Surprises

I wasn’t surprised by Serena being at the store. Carmen, yes – she seemed to be attached at the hip to Serena now, judging by wherever Serena walked, Carmen followed, like a lost puppy. Even Marcus was there, looking vaguely uncomfortable about something as he leaned against the doorframe. I didn’t quite find out what until I properly stepped inside.

“Afternoon, hon,” Ruth said, looking tense. Keys jangled in her hand. “Can you be a dear, hon, and do counter your whole shift? Nothin’ bad should happen and you’re well protected if it does.”

She glanced over my face. “Whassamatter with you, hon? You look like hell.”

I then realised my eyes must’ve still been red and puffy; I clumsily tried to wipe at them, as if that would make it better. It didn’t. “Nothing, really,” I lied. “What’s going—”

“Konnie!” Ruth barked up the stairs. “What’d I say? You’re not birthin’ that baby in the bathroom!”

I quickly got out of the way as Konstancja lurched down the stairs, breathing deeply. I didn’t know if she was in pain – most women, from the little I saw, seemed to be in pain during labour, but her jaw was set, her eyes determined. Her expression reminded me far too much of Eric’s stony expression. But her muscles were tense; she appeared to be moving as little as possible.

“Of course I not give birth in bathroom,” she said, with her usual sarcasm; her voice didn’t even falter, “You give birth in bedroom.”

“You ain’t doin’ it in there either,” Ruth said. “Don’t worry, there’re beds at the hospital. Come on...”

And so they moved, slowly, to get out the door.

“I won’t be back to lock up,” she said, “Theo’ll come by ‘round his usual time; he can do that.”

“Does he know where you’ll be?”

“He will,” she said, “I’ll see if I can get hold of him on the way...”

And so, with a tenseness that made it seem like she was the one having a baby, she and Konstancja left, the bells on the door jangling on their way out. I watched them make their way down the steps and to Ruth’s car in the driveway, a beat-up little thing that needed to be washed. With some assistance, Konstancja climbed into the passenger seat, Ruth got behind the wheel, and they were off. I watched as the car pulled out of the driveway and sped off towards the hospital with a loud squeal.

“When did this happen?” I said to no one in particular, leading back to the counter.

Serena frowned. “Carmen and I got here about two hours ago, after I finished my shift at the hospital. She seemed okay then; not in pain or anything, but then, about ten minutes before you showed up, her water broke.”

“I hear the Ladowaci are trained to suppress showing their pain,” Marcus said unhelpfully. “Makes ‘em seem stronger than they really are. Scares their opponents.”

“Ladowaci?”

Marcus gestured towards the front, down the road where the car had went. “Ladowaci. From Ladowac.”

“I could’ve figured that one out myself.”

“She’s a real rural type,” he admitted. “I’ve never seen one of those before; none of the urban people dye their skin anymore, and only some of them practice the ritual tattooing. It’s weird.”

“She’s not rural,” Serena corrected, “She’s an isolationist.”

Carmen was giving her an odd look, so with a sigh, she added, “Think of the Amish: they want to preserve the old ways of life at whatever cost – the old language, clothing, customs. Except unlike the Amish they’re willing to use violence to attain it.”

“Oh,” Carmen said, in a way that suggested she still didn’t understand. I didn’t understand either.

“Yeah, it’s messed up,” Marcus admitted. “They’re pissed too. Real pissed.”

“At what?” Carmen said.

“Er, well, Erebe and Hadea have a colony there—”

“Do you mind?” Serena said gesturing to me. I frowned.

“I don’t mind,” I said pointedly.

Marcus ignored us all: “—and the warlords don’t like that so they attack us. Get their peasant armies together with their craptacular weapons and fire on us – and you’d think ‘hey, we’ve got lasers and shit, of course we’re gonna win’, right? No way. We’ve got lasers but they’ve got sheer numbers. So some genius general decides ‘hey, let’s even out the score’ and...well, they raided a few small villages here and there and took some of their women and children hostage, the idea being that they’d return them unharmed if the warlords would agree to a truce. Well, the warlords said ‘screw that, we ain’t negotiating with anyone’, and so they...just sort of...stayed. And now the remaining villages have been rioting day and night from what I hear.”

“That’s horrible!” Carmen said. “How could you just take them?”

“I didn’t take them,” Marcus pointed out while Serena mentally seethed, “They were kept on the planet, you know, and we fed them and treated them nicely, and they still tried to kill us. The women are trained to kill just as much as the men, so we had to break them up.”

“Wait, Konstancja was taken hostage?” I said.

“Yeah. Her village is one of the more hardcore ‘let’s-all-kill-the-invaders’ kind, apparently. Dunno how she wound up here, though.”

Somehow, that knowledge explained a few things. Why she seemed to hate everyone no matter how well she was treated. I had wanted to write it off as simply hormones, but being kept against her will was a better explanation. Propping myself up on the counter, I glanced at them. Everyone seemed to have fallen silent with that, and by the looks on their faces, no one wanted to talk about the subject too intensively.

“What’s wrong with you?” Carmen finally said, glancing at me. I looked away.

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“It’s nothing,” I repeated firmly. I didn’t need to get into any of this right now. Not again.

There was more awkward silence. Marcus was sliding the toe of his shoe repeatedly across the floor; it squeaked with every movement. Carmen looked confused still; Serena grim. I half wished for a customer to come in just about then; that, at least, would be a temporary distraction from them. But I waited there behind the counter, and no one came. It was just the four of us.

“Why, exactly,” I said after some time, “are you here now?”

“That,” Serena said coolly, “is none of your business.”

“Oh,” I said, my voice becoming flat, “It’s that little thing with the Desslers again, is it?”

“Yes,” she said. “I intend to wait until Ruth or Theophanes return to talk to them.”

“You’ll be waiting a long time,” Carmen piped up, “When my cousin had her baby she was in labour for at least twelve hours.”

“I have time,” she said.

“Good for you, because I have to be at work by five,” Carmen said.

“You’re not going to work today,” Serena said smoothly. “You’re sick.”

Carmen snorted. “I could be dying and Mr. Howard wouldn’t give me sick leave.”

“You just have to let him know whose boss,” Marcus added. “Trust me, it’s taken care of.”

Carmen frowned, and I felt myself frowning along with her. What was with that? We exchanged puzzled glances. Beckoning Carmen closer with a brief wag of my finger, she leaned close to the counter, and I moved until my lips were close enough to her ear that I didn’t think anyone else could hear.

“You have any idea what this Dessler thing’s about?” I muttered.

“No idea,” I heard her mutter into my right ear, her breath tickling the skin, “Just that her bosses are looking for him.”

“And who’re they?”

“Dunno. Haven’t met them. I’ve got a guess that they’re family because there’s no way she’d take that crap from anyone not relat—”

“I told you not to talk of it!” Serena snapped.

Carmen pulled away from me, looking moody now. “And I told you—”

“Yes, I know what you said,” Serena said grimly, “I don’t need to remind you that it’s not my job to do that sort of thing.”

“And I never said it was, but to simply ask the person who does have that job would be nice of you—”

“We’re not talking about it here.”

“But you can talk about the Ladowacky and Erebe and all that around her and that’s okay?”

(“Ladowaci,” Marcus unhelpfully corrected. Serena glared).

“What are you talking about?”

“Whether or not to integrate you,” Marcus said; Serena’s glare grew even worse, but he seemed able to ignore it. “Ruth brought the subject up once your memory came back.”

“And?” I said.

“And...well, we assumed you’d want to bring your family,” he admitted, “and we don’t like integrating whole families at once. You don’t need to know exactly all the arguments we have.”

“And what have you decided?”

“Nothing yet,” he said, “We’re still arguing about it. Right now we think once Serena’s done her job and goes home, we’ll just have to...well...suppress your memory again. The right way, you know, with doctors and psychologists and all that shit, not the will-do-in-a-pinch port-a-memory-suppressor that he used. ...That can’t handle the sort of ...delicate procedures he’s trying to do.”

There was a long, long pause.

Then a ton of swears, both English and German, began pouring out of my mouth. Marcus looked nervous again, squeaking that shoe along the floor even louder, and I continued to swear my head off.

“Are you finished?” Serena said, irritably.

“No! Shit!” I snapped, “The first time was bad enough, now you’re gonna do it again? All I want is answers!”

I slammed my hand down on the countertop for emphasis; my palm stung where it had made contact, but I ignored this and pressed onward: “Is that – so – hard – to – understand?! I’m sick of your talking like I’m not there, I’m sick of your talking about shit and then not telling me what you’re talking about, I’m sick of being ‘good’ enough to be given scraps of information, but when the important shit comes up I’m left in the dark! Sick – of – it! Do you have any idea how stressed out I’ve been? Any idea? No, you don’t!”

“You’re not the only one with problems—”

“Yes, Serena, but you know the important stuff! All I know are a few names here and there, and yet you have the nerve – to ask me to help you do something that sounds painfully illegal without even telling me why! Are you stupid, Serena? Are you really so stupid as to think that I’d actually go along with something of that scale without knowing why?”

“I can’t tell you!”

“You damn well can!” I screamed right back; Marcus had tensed up, edging forwards and pulling Carmen out of the way. “I’ve been keeping this all cooped up inside for what feels like forever, Serena! My sister, my mother, and even my dumbass brother have all noticed it, and they – are – hounding – me! They’re concerned, they think Mr. Dessler made me crazy, they know I’m upset and I can’t tell them why! I can’t tell anyone why!”

“All the more reason not to! If you can’t handle information like that then what I know would break you!”

“But you still keep asking me about it! You keep asking me and asking me like I’m just gonna break down and say ‘yes’ eventually! I’m still gonna say no. Even now – even though Eric knows now, and I don’t give a damn what you think of that, I’m still protecting him. Even after we yelled at each other today, and I just felt so angry that I was trying to help and he turned on me like that and I—”

“Calm down,” Serena snapped, not sounding very soothing. “He knows?”

“He figured it out on his own,” I said, my voice turning acidic, “Well. His grandfather told him, at least. He wants absolutely nothing to do with it. Or you.”

Serena stared at me, her pale eyes cold. “Too damn bad. He knows? He’s involved. I’m sorry to burst his little bubble.”

I took a deep, steadying breath, exhaling slowly. “I wanted to help him. I thought if he knew, we’d be able to piece it out together – that I wouldn’t be alone in this. He didn’t agree.”

“How alone can you be?” Serena said, sounding irked, “You’ve got Ruth. Theophanes isn’t exactly unsympathetic, either. And Konstancja hasn’t talked about exacting bloody revenge on you and your ancestors.”

“I see them three hours a day twice a week—”

“And nine hours on Saturday.”

“While we’re working, with customers around,” I pointed out. “They’re not around when my mother comes along and says she wants to know why I’ve been so depressed ever since I was found. They’re not around when my sister confronts me after school about the same thing. They’re not at school when I have to hide it from everyone. It’s just me out there, it feels like, and when I do come here they don’t like talking about it to begin with! I feel lonely.” There was a pause. “I told my mother most of it the other day. I just wanted to get it out.”

Serena’s face blanched. “What?”

“She didn’t believe me. Said I was just stressed and should ‘talk to someone’.”

“There are proper channels for this sort of thing—”

“Serena, calm down,” Marcus said warningly, edging ever closer, “She said her mother didn’t believe her.”

“—you should have talked to Ruth before you said anything—”

“I know you’re really stressed, Serena, but just try and sit down—” Marcus said.

“You have no idea how much I’m stressed right now!” Serena snapped at him. Then, to me: “And you! I—”

Stress had gotten the better of her; she lunged across the counter at me. I froze, wondering if she was going to hit me, but instead she darted forward, a pale blur, gripping my upper arm tightly. Even though my sweater I could feel her nails digging into the skin. I hissed, trying to draw back from her, but her grip was firm, and I was forced to look into her pale blue eyes.

“Let. Go,” I growled.

“I am at the end of my rope,” Serena growled, her whole body trembling with something – rage, or stress, or fatigue, I didn’t know. “And – and you are seriously—”

“I said let go of me—”

“Serena,” Marcus was pleading, “let her go. None of us need to get in trouble for this, okay? Let her go and I’ll get you some coffee – or something – shit!”

She jerked me forward, my arms aching where her vice grip was on me, and I did the only thing that came to mind: slapped her. My hand struck her arm not too hard, but enough that the force made my hand sting.

Serena stared, shock slowly settling across her face.

Then she snapped.

She shoved me, hard – I stumbled backwards, feeling my head strike the back of the cabinet; I hissed as pain shot through the area. She was heading towards me now – oh, I would get her for that, make no mistake – my one foot darted out, hitting her solidly in the shin. She swore, losing balance and crashing to the floor, tossing her hands out for protection.

An elbow was thrown out – I heard a clunk as it struck my jaw, feeling funny when I bit down. I couldn’t really describe the rest – she threw out a kick here; I threw out a slap there – Serena was not one for the usual girl-fight; she was starting to throw punches now—

I dodged a punch made for my jaw, narrowly; the ring on her hand grazed my skin. Hoping my nails would be good enough, I lunged at her, going for the eyes – bam! The next thing I knew I’d flown backwards, slumped against the counter.

I didn’t care that she was fighting way beyond my ability, I didn’t care that she had lost a handle on herself completely, tears of sheer frustration running down her cheeks, sniffling while she readied herself for a second punch. I just knew the bitch had hit me, and I wasn’t going to take that lying down.

Her hair was right there, mussed and blown about. Before I knew it, I’d seized a chunk of that hair, soft and silvery, and pulled. Serena screeched, and I pulled again—

Hands wrapped around my midsection, pinning my arms to my sides, and I struggled against them.

“Let me go! Let – me – go!”

“No!” Marcus said, but he wasn’t holding me; Carmen was, struggling valiantly to keep her grip. Marcus had instead subdued Serena, locking her in a similar position. She struggled for a moment before going limp in defeat, looking sullen. I continued to struggle; maybe I could break out of Carmen’s grip, just land one last blow to her and—

A light flashed, and with a horrifying feeling, I felt my muscles relax. But I didn’t fall unconscious, not yet. I just felt like a wet noodle. I felt myself go limp too, not out of defeat but some outside force. It took effort just to look up; Marcus was holding a gun, suspiciously similar to the one Mr. Dessler had stolen, and was pointing it at me.

“What was that?” Carmen said.

“The ‘stun’ setting,” he said drily, “On a very light dosage. Christ! When guys fight, they go at it and make up afterwards. When girls do it...”

He shook his head. Tears and snot were still trickling down Serena’s face; she clumsily tried to wipe it off on her sleeve, smearing it.

“I’m sorry,” she said thickly, trying to regain what last composure she had. “I should – I should go wait upstairs. Marcus, let me go.”

She fled upstairs, her face flushed bright pink and red. Carmen released her grip slowly; I threw out a hand to support myself while standing. My legs wobbled. I didn’t feel any better now; I felt worse. I’d gotten into an argument today and then a fistfight, or as much of one as I could manage. What was the matter with me? I never used to do that; when I got upset or stressed, I’d yell, sure, yell and swear and generally lose it, but never something like this...

I slumped against the counter, feeling the adrenaline rush wear off.

“We’re all stressed out right now,” Marcus grumbled, “Doesn’t mean you can cat-claw your cares away.”

I felt tears pricking at the corner of my eyes, and I didn’t know why. “I don’t cat-claw,” I said sullenly, “I scratch.”

“Yeah, well, Serena doesn’t deal with scratches and kicks. If you met her mother you’d know why.”

“I think you should wait upstairs with her,” I said.

“Nah. From what I hear she likes to be left alone when she’s like this.”

“Then go...stand in a corner. I don’t wanna talk to you right now.”

He sighed, finally tucking the gun away in a pocket of his dark coat. “It’s not quite so black-and-white as you think it is, okay? There’s a lot of forces at work here, and—”

“Was I unclear before?”

“—we can’t just go telling everyone who knows a few names and places, okay? I’ll talk with my superiors; they’re good guys. They’ll figure something out.”

Carmen excused herself to go upstairs as well, and for most of the shift, it was simply Marcus and I. He browsed the aisles to kill time, occasionally picking something up to examine it closely. Eventually he wandered into the book room, and I heard him flop down on the couch; judging by how he didn’t come out again until Theophanes came home, I assumed he was reading something.

Around the end of the shift, Theophanes came home, dressed in a pinstriped suit that made him look like a mafia don. It was dark by this time, streetlights turning on, and underneath the fluorescent lighting he looked very pale and washed-out.

“Good evening,” he said, looking a little gloomy.

“It’s not a very good evening,” I said. “Did Ruth get a hold of you?”

“Yes, yes...she called again while I was coming home.”

“And?”

“And she hasn’t given birth yet,” he said. “Apparently she’s making a fuss. Ruth had to talk her into any IVs, and she’s flat-out refusing an epidural no matter how many people suggest it.”

“How did she explain Konstancja?”

“She didn’t,” Theophanes admitted, “We know people there. They’ll take care of her without many questions.”

“Serena’s upstairs,” Marcus called from the book room. Theophanes made the tiniest of faces, and I didn’t know what to make of it.

“Thank you, Marcus,” he said pointedly. “I’ve got the keys to lock up,” he added to me. “I’ll wait down here until your ride comes.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“Pardon my asking, but is something the matter?” Theophanes said.

“Yeah,” I said, “There’s a lot of things the matter.”

An expression – which I could guess was concern – flittered across his face. “Do you...want to talk about it?”

I scowled. Now they were being all nice and helpful? Before it was all ‘oh, that’s not important, let’s not talk about that’, but now...

“Ask Serena,” I said. “I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it.”

The concern was replaced by a hint of a frown. Just a hint. “I think I know what this is about...and if my assumptions are correct...well, there’s a lot of forces behind all this. It’s not just us-versus-them; it’s...”

“Complicated,” I finished, scowling. “Yeah. Marcus said that already.”

It was with relief I saw the headlights of Mama’s car pull into the driveway. “My ride’s here,” I added, “I should go now. Good night.”

As I gathered my things and left, I thought I saw Theophanes shake his head before locking the door behind me.

On the ride home, my mother was generally silent. This was good. I wasn’t in a talking mood at the moment. Today hadn’t been a good day, to say the very least, and I just wanted to get it over and done with.

Wednesday began like any other day: stumbling out of bed at half-past six, and landing on a very cold floor. I’d forgotten how bad this house could be in winter, and the worst part of it was, there was absolutely no snow falling. It was just cold, and so was I. It was with relief that I slipped on the warmest bathrobe I had.

Sylvia was still sprawled out on the couch when I crept into the kitchen. Damn it. She’d been here for at least a month at this point; was she not considering going home? I know she saw us once to twice a year at the most – some years she never saw us at all – but she could apparently afford a last-minute flight to Canada. Couldn’t she afford a last-minute flight home? I was getting very tired of tiptoeing around her, especially in the mornings; like our mother, she was a heavy sleeper and—

I flicked on the light switch, wincing at I was temporarily blinded. Squeezing my eyes shut, I sort of felt my way over to the dishwasher, when it seemed safe enough to open them again. Flipping the latch open and opening the dishwasher, I began my usual routine: putting last night’s dishes away. The normalcy was sort of nice – and what was even nicer was that I was still too tired to properly remember anything from yesterday. Just bad feelings, but nothing concrete.

Sylvia stumbled into the kitchen just about then, a terrycloth robe tossed on over her pyjamas.

“What time is it?” she rasped.

I glanced at the clock on the microwave: “Quarter-to seven.”

She made a noise that vaguely sounded like ‘uh-huh’ and stumbled back to the living room. “Don’t bother making your bed,” she muttered, “I’ll do that.”

“Aren’t you getting tired of sleeping on the couch?” I said, putting a stack of bowls away.

“I’ve slept on worse,” she muttered.

“For a month?”

“Mama and I alternate,” she mumbled, sounding dearly like she’d rather be sleeping.

“Yeah, but still...if you’re gonna sleep in my bed, wait a minute. I need to get dressed first.”

‘I’ve slept on worse’ indeed. When was the last time she slept on worse? In a sleeping bag, for maybe a week, tops? She was too much of a macho woman. Sighing, I tried to eat a quick breakfast – hopefully I could get into the bathroom before Thom did and make the place smell like an aftershave factory on fire.

The only thing that properly woke me up was the shock of the cold. Deciding on a hat and gloves, for once, I was thankful as Thom and I stepped outside to a blast of cold air. The sky was a greyish colour. Looked like a storm was coming.

“It’d better not snow today,” Thom said, slouching as he walked. “I hate walking through snow.”

Emily and Claire were already at the bus stop, shivering. Claire went over to talk to Thom, batting her green eyes at him. Emily and I huddled closer together for what little warmth we could get; puffs of mist came out of our mouth as we talked.

“I heard Eric dumped you,” Emily said, sympathy in her voice.

“We weren’t dating,” I said. “Who told you that?”

“Shelby,” she said. “She called the other night ‘cause Kristen called her saying she heard you two yelling at each other.”

“Yeah, we yelled. But he was never my boyfriend,” I said, feeling a frown coming on. How many people had Shelby told?

“Oh. I hear he’s dating Carly now,” she said, seeming confused. “Why would he want to?” she said with a laugh. “She’s like the most massive bitch ever.”

“Dunno,” I said. “Maybe he likes massive bitches.”

Emily outright laughed at this, causing Claire to glare at her. “He’ll get dumped by her in, like, a week. It’s happened before. I hear she’s already dropped Jamie from her group.”

“Morgan?”

“Yeah, yeah, not Jamie-her-cousin, but Jamie Morgan. She’s been all messed up ever since...well, you know. Rumours are she’s going to a shrink.”

“I didn’t hear that.”

“Yeah, she’s kinda embarrassed about it; doesn’t like talking too much. Which is weird,” Emily said with a frown. “You were...you know, taken, and you seem okay.”

I was far from ‘okay’, at least mentally, but Emily didn’t need to know that. “Yeah, I dunno,” I said, shrugging. “Maybe I’m just lucky.”

“Maybe,” she agreed.

Shelby attacked me at our locker. Thankfully I was staring at myself in the little mirror hanging from the door – I looked pale and tired. Had I slept that badly? – and had some warning beforehand, seeing a hint of Shelby’s firey orange hair. I turned around to see her, and the next thing I knew she’d wrapped me in a tight hug.

“Hello to you too,” I said, my voice somewhat muffled.

“Are you okay?”

“I might be if you let me go,” I said, feeling relieved when we were separated. “Why would I not be okay?”

“Well...I heard Eric and you were yelling at each other...and you’ve got a bruise on your face,” she said, tapping the spot. It was near my jaw. Damn, Serena had struck hard; how had I not noticed that?

“How did you know we were yelling?”

Shelby snorted. “This school’s tiny, you know. Gossip spreads like disease. Kristen Leifson was in class at the time; her room’s down the hallway where you were. She heard most of it.”

I swore. “Some things are supposed to be private!”

“She didn’t hear what you were arguing about,” she added unhelpfully, “Did he hit you?”

“No!” I said. “How could you even think that?”

“I don’t wanna think that, because that’s what my mom thinks and I don’t wanna prove her right, but what else is it?”

I sighed. “I got into a fight with another girl,” I said. “At work. Dunno how it happened but we were both pretty stressed out.”

Shelby’s expression changed: “With Carly?”

“No, not Carly. She kinda looks like her, though. If Carly had blue eyes, was paler and about ten pounds lighter they’d look the same.”

“Oh,” Shelby said, looking disappointed. “Because...you know, by lunchtime everyone’s gonna be saying you got into a fight with Carly, you know. And she isn’t gonna like that.”

“What do I care?”

I didn’t especially care. Not through Religion – “On the whole, your essays were abysmal,” O’Reilly sniffed. I got seventy percent, which was not bad, all things considered. – and not during History. Carly and Eric were there, yes, and they talked through most of the before-class stuff and during the work period.

“So, what’s the rumour mill saying now?” I said to Shelby.

“That you got into a fight with Carly,” she said. “Over Eric. There’s like two different stories out there saying how it happened.”

“Is anyone still thinking Eric did it?” I said, purposefully keeping it vague. There was no reason to start another rumour myself.

“Nah, no one would have believed it to begin with,” she said. “They all think you and Carly are in this huge war type thing.”

I snorted. The idea was laughable. There were far better things to get into a war about.

Aside from Carly giving me a look – an icy glare combined with a raised eyebrow, as if even she didn’t know what these rumours were all about – at lunchtime, Wednesday passed without incident. Even at home, neither Mama nor Sylvia noticed the bruise, and as I inspected it closer in the bathroom, it wasn’t that big. It was only a light reddish-purple.

Thursday started off like any other day, with one notable exception: it snowed, for once. Not a heavy snow, more of a light, frequent dusting, but it was there after dealing with grey skies for all of Wednesday. I trudged through the wind and snow to get to the bus stop, and then finally, to school.

For some reason people were staring. Not overtly, not like when I’d been found or even when I’d had that incident in the parking lot, but they were still staring. Whenever I tried to make eye contact, they’d look away. Great. Were rumours taken this seriously here? Did these people have nothing better to do? It seemed not, for at lunchtime, two things happened:

Carly came up, some of her groupies clustered around her like glittery bodyguards, and calmly-yet-pleasantly warned me to watch my tongue, “because lies can spread fast around here, and it wouldn’t do to have our reputations suffer over something that didn’t even happen, would it?”

The second was Eric, coming up to me as soon as Carly had her posse were well out of earshot – Shelby had gone to the vending machines in order to get a snack – and crouched down low:

“Do you...know who’s looking for Pop?” he said, his tone urgent.

“Not where to find them,” I said coolly. “I thought you didn’t want to get involved.”

He looked anxious, fiddling with the chain again. “I don’t, okay? But last night – this morning – Pop and I caught someone outside our house trying to get into the basement. We didn’t get a good look at them because they ran as soon as they knew they’d been caught, and...”

“I don’t know who it could be,” I said. It could have been Serena for all I knew, or maybe even Marcus. He seemed to be her right-hand man.

“It looked like a chick, okay? Little taller than you. Pale. Had a hat on; I didn’t see her face.”

Serena, then.

“I think I know who you’re talking about, but I wouldn’t know where she is,” I said, going back to my food, “She just tends to...show up.”

Eric looked disappointed, swearing and fiddling with his chain again, but thanking me and drifting off towards Carly.

The walk to the store was frigid; I continually had to blow snow out of my eyes. By the time I got there, clinging to the door in order to ensure it didn’t blow away, it had calmed down a bit. The inside was warm; Serena was there, and Marcus, but no Ruth or Konstancja.

“Hello,” I said cautiously, shutting the door forcefully; the sound of the wind died. “Where is everyone?”

“Ruth and Konstancja are still at the hospital,” Serena said.

I frowned. “She hasn’t had that baby yet?”

“She has,” Serena said, “A boy. I think Ruth said he was born about nine p.m. on Tuesday.”

“Oh,” I said. “Have you seen him?”

“No, because the hospital’s refusing to discharge her,” Serena said with a sigh. “I don’t know what they’re saying to justify it, but Ruth’s been there all day trying to get her out.”

“We think it’s ‘cause they’re suspicious of her,” Marcus said. “Someone must’ve seen her.”

“I thought Theophanes said they knew people there?”

“They do,” Serena agreed, “but they don’t know everyone. Probably some ignorant higher-up spotted her and gave the order. I don’t know.”

“And Theophanes?”

“At work,” Serena said. “He asked me to take over until you got here.”

“Well I’m here now,” I said; Serena graciously stepped aside to let me take up the counter. There was an awkward pause, and we both started talking at once, while Marcus looked on, bemused:

“Hey, were you hanging ‘round the Dessler place this morning—?”

“I wanted to apologise for yesterday—”

We cut each other off.

“Yes, I was at the Dessler place early this morning,” she said. “I’m not afraid to say it. The French girl he’s keeping much longer than everyone else, so I was attempting to break her out as I did Carmen. I was...interrupted.”

“They saw you.”

She blanched. “How do you know?”

“Eric told me,” I grumbled. “He doesn’t want anything to do with this but you scared the crap outta him.”

“I wasn’t after him – for once,” she said. “Next time I’ll have to bring someone with me. I thought I could do it solo considering what happened with Carmen, but evidently not.”

There was a long pause.

“I’m sorry for what happened yesterday,” Serena finally said, her face falling. “I’ve just been going through a lot recently and I just lost it. I shouldn’tve taken it out on you.”

“I was going through a lot yesterday too,” I admitted. “I’m...sorry I yelled at you.”

“At least it’s out of our system,” Serena said, a ghost of a smile on her face.

“Yeah,” I said. This wasn’t as bad as I had expected. She seemed all right now. “Are you guys sticking around?”

“Until Theophanes gets home, yes,” she said, “Ruth wasn’t comfortable with the idea of you being here alone.”

“Ah,” I said.

Sometimes I wondered why Ruth had the store open as late as she did – most of the smaller stores in the area closed an hour before hers, and there were never a lot of people in here at any given time. Except on holidays of course, and even then that was comparable to a very slow day anywhere else. As it was, I was sitting behind the counter, aimlessly flicking through the channels on a small television. For some reason they kept that there on the counter, as if to warn any potential employees ‘yeah, it’s gonna be real boring here’.

“Quiet tonight,” Marcus said, brushing a dreadlock out of his face.

“It’s always quiet,” I said. “I dunno how she runs this place.”

“I know she sells some of this stuff online,” Serena admitted. “And through delivery and stuff. Says most of her customers are in London and don’t feel like coming here.”

“Huh,” I said. “I never knew that.”

The shift went by slowly, and we all found things to occupy our time: Marcus went to the book room and read for most of it, Serena bounced between answering calls on her cell phone and talking to me, and I bounced between the little television and talking to her. Something seemed not right, she kept getting more agitated and worried as the calls kept coming – but she went and talked to Marcus and came back, looking as placid as ever. Finally, the shift wound down; the headlights of Theophanes’ car could be seen pulling into the driveway.

The bell jangled. We all jumped; I glanced up to see who it was, automatically muting the television. It was Mama and Sylvia, trailed by a moody looking Thom. Theophanes followed seconds later, bundled up in a long coat and scarf.

“Ruth back yet?” he asked us.

“No,” Serena said. “She called here earlier. Dr. Kyriaka’s trying for a release, but they’re being stubborn.”

“What’s the issue?”

Serena rolled her eyes. “She doesn’t have a health card.”

“I never thought of that,” he admitted, “But it hasn’t stopped her before—?”

“Mama,” I said, “What are you doing here?”

“Picking you up,” she said pointedly.

“But I’ve still got a half-hour left—”

“And talking with the owner, too,” she said.

“About what?”

“Nothing,” she said; my heart sank. Me. Of course. “And we’re going out to dinner afterwards, which is why they’re all here too.”

“The owner’s not here,” Marcus called from the other room, nonchalantly. Serena and Theophanes were still talking:

“They grasping at straws, really—”

“You’re telling me,” he said. “Is the baby fine—”

“She said both of them were just fine, they were just being...kept there. She talked with as many of them as she could, she said.”

Theophanes uttered what I assumed was a very colourful swear in the sing-song tongue, as Serena gave him a look. My mother just looked mystified. He then seemed to realise he wasn’t the only person there, and turned to my mother: “I apologise. Can I help you?”

“I’m looking to talk to Ruth,” she said.

“I already said she was out,” Marcus said. Theophanes gave an irritable glance in the direction of the book room.

“She’s out, unfortunately. I can’t say when she’ll be back.”

(My mother uttered a swear in German, which left Theophanes looking mystified while I couldn’t help but smirk a little. See how he felt being left out of conversations).

“If you give me your number, Mrs. Schumacher, I can have her call you back.”

“Might as well,” Sylvia said.

“I know I might as well, I’m just irked. Came all the way out here...” she said; nevertheless, she gave our number and Theophanes write it down on a scrap piece of paper. I took a glance at it – I could recognise our phone number just fine, as well as my mother’s name, but the rest was written in an odd, flowing script that I’d seen in the back room. He also seemed to write far more than was necessary for a simple reminder, going onto the back of the post-it note just to finish it off.

“Is there anything else I can do?” he said, even as Serena’s cell phone rang again. She answered it, her voice low.

“I just wanted to talk with her for a bit, that’s—”

“What?” Serena said; in the other room, I heard a book fall to the floor with a fwump. She dashed over to the television, switching the channel to the news.

“What is it?” I said.

Breaking News Story, the headline read. The camera then cut to the main anchorman, a man with linebacker shoulders and bristly hair.

“Breaking news,” he said, “A fight has broken out at the St. James’ theatre following an altercation. Police say both men are armed with guns and are not to be approached...”

The camera then cut to a reporter at the scene – in the parking lot, to be precise where (I noted with a thrill of horror) two men were going at it rather fiercely, with a loud and familiar humming noise in the background. The reporter was too far away for details to be seen, but the taller man in the black jacket had to be Mr. Dessler. The man fighting him I couldn’t see, but he looked like...

“Is that Megalos Kyriaka?” Theophanes said, staring at the television and looking very pale now.

“As you can see, police are attempting to break the fight up,” a small, dark-haired female reporter was saying, “And—”

There was an especially loud hum just then, and just before the camera cut out, showing static, I saw the reporter sway on her feet. Instantaneously it cut back to the newsroom, where the anchorman apologised for ‘technical difficulties’.

“Shit,” Theophanes said.

“Someone...you know?” my mother said.

“Unfortunately,” he said. “Marcus! Get in here!”

Marcus wandered in, one hand still clutching a book. “You don’t have to yell, I’m right here.”

Theophanes then began talking in very hushed sing-song language, followed by Serena. All the while, my entire family looked utterly baffled by what was going on. Welcome to my world, I wanted to say to them. I’ve had to deal with this ever since I worked here. Even I didn’t really know the significance of it. Mr. Dessler had accidentally exposed his own identity; what did that mean for me? I didn’t know.

The bell rang again – I didn’t jump this time. Five men, dark-skinned, walked in, all of them armed with handheld phasers. They were dressed normally, bundled up in thick coats, and looked very nonchalant.

“Hey Dakarai,” Marcus said leisurely. “Can I get you a drink?”

“This isn’t your house,” Theophanes snapped.

“I’m trying to be hospitable,” he said.

“No time, Barke,” Dakarai said, adjusting his scarf. “Big mess at the theatre. We have to act quickly.”

“That ain’t my job,” Marcus said, very calmly as if five armed men weren’t staring us down. “That’s your job.”

“Not anymore it’s not,” Dakarai groused. Then, just as quickly, he and Marcus began a rapid-fire conversation in a language I knew I hadn’t heard before. It wasn’t the sing-song language nor was it the harsh-sounding language. It was something different. They sounded tense, trading barbs I didn’t understand, but Theophanes evidently did (at least partially) – he jumped in, saying something awkwardly and with difficulty; they shot him amused looks before responding very slowly.

“Well, we shouldn’t take up any more of your time,” my mother said, clearly nervous – she might not have known what the guns did, but these looked enough like guns to make everyone nervous. Except Serena, apparently; I shot a glance over to her and she merely looked exasperated.

“Are we doing this or not?” the tallest of the dark-skinned men said, looking exasperated. “We’ve only got twenty minutes until the next shuttle leaves.”

“Twenty minutes is plenty of time,” Serena said.

“With this traffic?” he snorted. “We’ll be lucky if we make it past the theatre in ten minutes. There’s cops all over the place.”

“Don’t glare at me,” Serena said. “I’m not the one who decided on a conspicuous fistfight in a public place.”

“And I didn’t either, so don’t give me lip,” he said. “Okay, how many are there...one, two, three, four, five...” he muttered the rest to himself; there were (including the five men) twelve people there, “Seven people? I didn’t think we were taking that many.”

“You’re not,” Sylvia said, a little bolder, “We’re not going.”

And she gestured to us.

The man and Marcus exchanged more words, with Serena jumping in in the sing-song language. Before long it seemed like everyone was talking, loudly trying to talk over other people and other conversations.

“Okay, hang on,” the man said, seemingly for my benefit, “Let me try and figure this one out, okay? Seven here, two at the hospital—”

“Three,” Theophanes corrected, tight-lipped.

“We already have the doctor with us.”

“I meant the baby.”

“Oh. I was just lumping that with the mother. Fine, three at the hospital, one at the house, eight at the theatre...we’ve got the theatre one wrapped up nicely; I can radio Innu to send a team to the hospital and the house...”

“The house should be taken care of by this point,” Serena said. “I told you about that earlier.”

“We can only work so fast,” he said.

They continued bantering back and forth, and I dimly wondered how they could be quite so calm about such a bizarre situation. My mother certainly wasn’t, and as I slowly edged out from behind the counter, she grabbed a hold of me, as if worried I’d float away. I didn’t mind. It let me know that she was there, because I wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t just disappear on me. Sylvia looked confused, but battle-ready; she didn’t need a gun to fight, really; I half-expected her to go for the television and chuck it at someone’s head.

“All right, come on,” another man in the group said, “We don’t have all day.”

“For what?” Sylvia demanded.

“For the shuttle,” he said. “Did you not hear me when I said it leaves in twenty minutes?”

“And where’s the shuttle taking us?” I said, as the men closed ranks around us, herding everyone out the door. Serena was mildly irked, Theophanes had a funny look on his face that I couldn’t place as any one emotion, and Marcus – well, he’d pulled out a gun of his own now and was assisting them in herding us away like sheep.

“Didn’t they tell you?” he said.

“No one tells me anything.”

“We’ll be heading for HQ right now,” he said as we came outside. Snow was still drifting, little flakes visible against the light of the streetlamp. “Once we’ve got everyone ready, then we’ll deal in the specifics.”

“Specifics of what?” Sylvia said, glancing incredulously between him and I, as if either of us might tell her something. I hated to disappoint her; I had no more idea than she did. All right, maybe slightly more.

“Of the integration, ma’am,” he said, ushering us all into the back of a van. It was dark, and rather crowded; I winced as I was squished between Sylvia and a wall; I could smell her perfume. Most of us were sitting on the ground; Theophanes and Serena were caught in the middle, sitting on everyone’s legs and feet.

“You’re not serio—” I started.

“Hush,” Theophanes said, pressing a finger to his lips. “This wasn’t what I anticipated, but – move your foot, please – I’m not the one making the decisions.”

“I should have been,” Serena muttered. “I would have the sense to wait until a decent hour.”

“This is above even you, Serena,” he said.

“I’ll scream,” Sylvia said. “I’ll scream!”

“Please don’t make us have to stun you,” the driver – Dakarai – said. “It makes everything go so much smoother.”

“Is it not possible to move your foot slightly to the side? No? Hmph, then I’m sorry, I’ve no choice but to sit on it,” Theophanes said, “Calm down. You’re all in safe hands, I assure you.”

Sylvia opened her mouth to scream, most likely, but a quick hum and she slumped over. I struggled to get a good look at her face. She didn’t seem unconscious, but more of a half-awake state. My mother started panicking, and soon she slumped over too, in that same half-awake state.

“Why don’t you just stun all of us?” I snapped at them.

“We can’t have anyone making a fuss,” Marcus said, his gun still humming. “Sorry. Procedures. Nothing personal.”

And so, once we’d all been stuffed in there, the men clamoured in – I couldn’t believe there was even room for all of them, let alone us – and the engine started with a roar. Within seconds, we were pulling out of the driveway, and out onto the road. Even through the tinted windows, I saw the lights of the store, rapidly fading away into the night.