Chapter 63– Czar
Chapter 63– Czar
‘And this is why you don't befriend psychos.’
Fuck.
After a little over a week of deafening silence, finally, something.
And there was a small smile playing on her lips as she typed and sent that text across so hopefully she is ready to talk. I jump on the opportunity.
Lone Wolf: I've missed you, Ghost.
In response she types… and types… and types…
The three dots that show she is still coming up with a message bounce around the edge of my screen for what seems like a century. Through the glass I see her gaze turn deeply contemplative– hesitant, almost nostalgic… And then she holds her thumb on the screen, wiping everything she'd been previously typing off.
What she sends next is briefer and right after, she goes offline.
Miss Dangereuse: Leave me the fuck alone.
Something is definitely wrong with her ass.
Given that her mood has been at an all-time low since Easter dinner started, I'm thinking the decline might have a lot to do with her family…
Which makes me want to be in that room so badly, hear whatever it is they're telling her, inform them that if they don't cease and desist from annoying my witch, they won't survive me. What's mine isn't theirs to trouble.
But I remain in the shadows, watching as my blue-eyed fantasy stomps out of the kitchen, banging the door loudly behind her. Members of the extended family call out to her, disapproval written vividly across their features and her best friend trails her but she doesn't turn back.
Lone Wolf: You know you can tell me if something is bothering you, right?
Nope. Delete.
Lone Wolf: Are you good?
What on earth? Cleared.
Lone Wolf: Hera, I'm proud as fuck but I'm begging now. Say the word. If you need me I'll be there in a blink.
Sent.
I wait for a while. And then it becomes an hour. The text soon moves to seen but is left on Read.
Hera is ignoring me again.
Angrier than I was before I head out of the premises. The chilly air and general nighttime quiet does nothing to calm me down as I climb my Ducati Monster and zoom home.
Seventy-two hours since then and no communication has come from her end.
My drama queen has emphatically refused to be reached, ignoring my messages and refusing to send texts of her own despite the fact that something is seriously bothering her and she needs to talk to someone about it.
I know.
That's why I’m currently doing something I said I wouldn't ever do again– invade her privacy. Hera is not one of my targets, I remind myself, not a job waiting to be finished, so I shouldn't be accessing her PC without her consent… but she has left me no other choice. I need to know what the fuck is wrong with her because I've found that I cannot relax if she is not happy.
So I get right down to business.
It takes me less than ten minutes. Soon I'm in, accessing browser searches, newly-added documents, emails… For a while I don't find anything out of the ordinary…
Until I stumble on an email from Kingsland and something with the proportions of an actual boulder drops in my stomach, taking the breath from my lungs with it.
I never mentioned to Hera that the death threat she found on her doorstep the other day had the insignia of the phantom place, proving that Kingsland or someone from there is involved in the disappearance of her parents. I didn't tell her this. I was handling so many things at the time I don't think it ever crossed my mind to inform her. And anyway, I’ve always preferred arriving at concrete conclusions before revealing little details in case said snippets of information didn't prove important in the long run. It's a practice I usually adopt when giving my clients updates on how far investigations have gone. But Hera is no ordinary client and I should have mentioned this to her earlier as avoidant as she has been… because flashing on my screen right now is an email that shouldn't have happened. Not to my enchantress.
“From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Your Application
Dear Miss Hera North,
Congratulations! Your application has been reviewed and you've been selected for an interview at our main campus– the final stage in securing your spot at Kingsland Academy. Your overall academic excellence as well as referee recommendation made you stand out as one of the shortlisted candidates and we are excited to bring you on board our prestigious institution.
While the academy has for years been focused on courses in the sciences, we have a new but vibrant humanities program which will fit into your specific path– creative and professional writing.
Respond to this email with an active phone line so your complimentary transportation can be discussed.
Regards,
Bianca James,
Registrar,
Kingsland Academy.”
I don't even realize I've shut my laptop until it closes with a bang.
Fuck.
They contacted her directly. How this happened I'm yet to understand. But the important question here is why? What do they want with her? Initially I thought the idea was to keep her off looking for her parents but things are definitely becoming more complicated than anyone envisaged.
And she doesn't even know that these are the bad guys.
‘Respond to this email with an active phone line so your complimentary transportation can be discussed.’
I open the portable computer again and check the mail. Shit. It's been responded to already. And it's four days old. Which means transport plans might well be on their way to being finalized at this point.
Shitttt.
I should have told her about Kingsland as soon as I found out. What the fuck was I thinking?
I head for our chat.
Lone Wolf: Where are you?
The message doesn't even stay a minute before I begin typing another.
Lone Wolf: Look, I know you don't want to talk to me right now but this is pretty urgent. I have to know where you are at the moment. We need to talk.
But no response comes from her end. I'm trying so hard to resist the urge to bang my fist on the table before me.
Lone Wolf: This is very important, Witch. I accessed your mails earlier and saw that you were planning on going for an interview at Kingsland Academy. First, the place doesn't exist. But I know for a fact that it is linked with a much darker organization that might be responsible for holding your parents. Do the math with me. After taking your parents they're now using a front– a fake college– to draw you to them. They're up to no good. Best case scenario they want to kidnap you too. For fuck’s sake don't go with them.
Twenty minutes, no response.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
I grab my keys and head out. Speeding down to North Manor cuts the journey in half for me. Soon I'm standing at the gates dressed in all black with a hood large enough to scoop water out of a well. My usual mask has been substituted for a nose mask that conceals seventy percent of my face, exposing mostly my eyes and forehead.
It's sunny out and birds are chirping loudly, giving the manor a serene, rustic feel. Still, I can't help thinking that something is very off. I circle the mansion twice and notice that no one is there. The extended family must have left since the day after Easter but the main resident of the property, the one I'm here for, is gone as well. The front door is locked and all the windows too, especially the one that opens to her room from the balcony.