Rise at Twilight

by Kayla Krantz

  Max shrugged. “Isn’t that all you need right there?”

  Amy frowned down at her fingers. “No. I doubt the phone number is any good. Rose said she’s had it for years, and never called it once.”

  “It might not even be hers?” Max asked with a sigh.

  “Exactly,” Amy said, twining her fingers.

  “This is about to be a little needle in the haystack situation,” Max said.

  Amy sat up straight, letting her spine rest against the couch. “In a broad sense, yes, but I think I can at least narrow down the area where she lives.”

  Max raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue.

  “Rose was young when she had her. She…gave her away. To an older friend who agreed to take care of her. That was in Cairo.”

  “You do realize just how large of an area that still is, right? I mean Cairo…that city has about 15 million people in it alone.”

  Amy tensed. “Yeah, well, 15 million is better than 7 billion.”

  “Fine, so do we know where to begin?”

  Amy shrugged. “All Rose told me is that she gave Cassandra to her friend. I couldn’t ask her more questions than that.”

  Max sighed. “Okay, that sucks, but I was prepared for it. Please tell me you brought back something of Rose’s? Something small?”

  Amy nodded and reached into her pocket, pulling out the shiny silver pin. “It’s a clip for her hijab.”

  Max turned it over in his fingers. “She won’t miss this?”

  Amy couldn’t be bothered to think of an answer to that question either way.

  “Well, okay. Close your eyes, and take deep breaths,” Max instructed.

  Amy obeyed and listened to him shuffling around before he began to chant incantations under his breath. Some of them in English, some in Latin, and the feeling of vertigo washed over her as if she was on a boat. She was tempted to crack open her eye, to get a peek of the shed and see what was going on.

  “Don’t,” Max said a second before she did.

  Amy complied with a squeak and forced her eyelids to stay closed even though it grew harder by the minute. When a swell of nausea reared its ugly head, she feared she would have to open her eyes just to find a place to puke.

  “You can open them now,” Max said.

  Amy breathed in to quell the nausea and opened her eyes, jumping up in shock when she realized the cabin was gone. There was a bustling city around them, people moving so close to her that she feared they would know she was there. A man in his middle ages moved onward, passing through her and out onto the other side, not seeming phased by the moment.

  Swallowing, Amy turned to look at Max. “Where are we?”

  “Cairo,” he replied.

  “Oh,” Amy breathed, clenching and unclenching her hands to get rid of the residual feelings of nausea. Although she had known it to be a possibility for Keepers to teleport, she had never bothered to learn the skill when she had been able to. To her, it would’ve only opened the possibly of more work, and that had been the last thing she wanted.

  “This is definitely a busy place,” Max said, eyeing the buildings and the clustered sidewalks. “You’re sure that she’s here?”

  Amy bobbed her head.

  “Then we’re in this for the long haul,” Max said and pulled the pin from his pocket again.

  Amy eyed it, watching as he twirled it three times before he started to walk. “Wait, where are you going?”

  “Following the trail,” he said.

  She knew very little about tracking from her own Keeper experiences but knew enough to guess Max’s plan. He would create a map using the pin of every place in Cairo Rose had been at some point in her life. It was both a good plan and a terrible one. If she had been a shy, introverted girl, it would work easier because the number of places she had visited would be smaller. The Rose Amy knew, however, didn’t fit that description.

  Amy chose not to voice her worries out loud. Even if Max’s plan would turn out to be time-consuming, it was the best option they had. They walked through tiny alleys, streets both urbanized and abandoned, and moved until the nicer parts of the city were behind them, leaving miles of slums as far as they could see.

  Carefully, they went building to building, tracking Rose’s life from little up through her teenage years. A majority of that occurred within three different buildings but when they followed the path to the fourth building, there was something to the trail, an urgency, a change in Rose’s state, and Max and Amy both knew what that was—her pregnancy, her baby.

  “We’re close,” Max said, breaking into the beginning of a jog with Amy right on his heels.

  They blurred out of focus, running right through people, until an enormous apartment came into view. It was old, the entire structure slanting on one side, and looked to be abandoned, but there was no mistaking the pull. Max didn’t pause to gauge Amy’s thoughts or feelings, he used only a second of preparation to continue onward.

  Amy was jealous. She wished she had that kind of strength, that bravery, but she didn’t. I am who I am, she told herself, and who she was, was a coward.

  The apartment they finally found themselves in was tiny. It was almost like a studio except even that title seemed too large to explain it. The entire house consisted of a mattress, a tiny toilet, and a stove. For decoration, there was a tiny stack of paperwork by the edge of the bed.

  “Gods,” Amy breathed. “Do they even have electricity?”

  Max shrugged. “The signal is strongest here, but there’s nothing here.”

  “That’s one way to say it,” Amy said, glancing up at the wall.

  There was one picture there, and on it there was a woman and a tiny child. Narrowing her eyes, Amy moved a step closer, studying the people. They didn’t look familiar, but the idea made her feel better about what they were. This had to be the spot, that woman had to be Rose’s friend.

  I should’ve tried to get her to come, Amy thought and instantly pushed the thought away. It didn’t take much to guess Rose wouldn’t have complied. This place, these memories, were still too painful for her.

  They probably always would be.

  Max followed Amy’s gaze to the image. He paused to study it before looking at Amy. “Did Rose ever show you any pictures of what her friend looked like?”

  Amy shook her head. “No, she only talked about her once, and it was in fragments.”

  He closed his eyes, took in a breath, and lifted the pin, touching the silver to the edge of the picture. A surge of information welled into him, and he gasped, pulling back so quickly he nearly fell to the ground.

  “What is it? What did you learn?”

  “This is the right place,” Max said, dropping to his knees.

  “What are you doing?”

  “If the woman raised Cassandra, there has to be something about where she is now. No one raises a child to adulthood without there being some trace.”

  Unless the child died, Amy thought but didn’t say it.

  If Cassandra had died between the time Rose gave her away and the present, then they were out of options as far as a plan.

  Max didn’t seem to think the same thing. He continued to riffle through the papers, scattering them in every direction. Redness spread across his features with his growing frustration, and Amy bent down to pick up one of the pieces, scanning the useless information, when a pronounced “Ah-ha!” caught her attention.

  She glanced at Max over the paper as he held out a tiny scrap of paper triumphantly.

  “What is that?” Amy asked, scooting over to him.

  “It’s a letter from Cassandra. To this woman. Apparently, she ran away,” Max said.

  Amy frowned. “So, we’re back to square one then.”

  Max shook his head. “No, don’t you get it?” he asked, shaking the paper in her face.

  Understanding dawned over Amy as her eyes stared at the yellow paper. Now that they had a belonging of Cassandra’s, they could track her too.

&nb
sp; “Well?” Max asked, face impatient.

  Another bead of sweat ran down Amy’s face as she clenched onto the letter. She tried to block out Max’s voice, reading the words again, but nothing came to her mind, and she started to fear that she would be unable to do it.

  “Nothing at all?” Max asked.

  Amy shook her head. “I…I must’ve lost the ability.”

  Max ground his teeth and ripped the paper from her with such force that she feared it would tear before she remembered that physically, they couldn’t harm it.

  Max closed his eyes, breathing in and out, before his eyes opened again and he stared down at it as if it would suddenly tell him everything he needed to know.

  “I don’t understand this,” Max said at last.

  Amy shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “It’s like it’s wrapped in magic,” Max said and paused. “You don’t think…”

  “She knows what she can do?” Amy guessed and shrugged. “Maybe. We don’t know what kind of people she’s come across.”

  That both worked in their favor and against it. If she had run into unfavorable people, people like Cody, it could already be too late.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  IT DIDN’T TAKE long for Luna to admit she was bored with her new “life.” With the sorrow of Asher’s absence contained in the depths of her mind for the time being, her emotions were remarkably disconnected. Days passed, or least what she considered to be days passed. She slept, Chance slept, the time would pass in cycles, and even though those might not be real days, it was close enough to count them as such.

  Every day, she tried to see her situation from a new angle, a new perspective. Her irrationality hadn’t helped her so far, and she doubted it would in the future either. She needed a plan, something concrete to base her life on. Since her depressive episode, she had rewired her brain, focusing on the bad as little as possible, and with that filtered out, her confidence had risen.

  By the end of her first week in that place, she had a mantra: If I could find Amanda once, I’ll find her again.

  Chance was always by her side, like an odd mix between a bodyguard and a butler, and quick to supply her with books and food…just about anything she asked for, but she didn’t know how to let him in on her plans…or if she should at all. The only thing she knew was that the mundane things he supplied her with weren’t enough to fill the void growing inside her. The restlessness was driven by a mind that yearned for more, for stimulation of some kind that could bring her out of her rut, something that could help her see things in a new light.

  Luna tested Chance, waiting to see if he would bring mention of their son up on his own, but he didn’t. For all the times he clung close to her, holding her at night and making sure she ate during the day, he didn’t seem to share in her emotions. From what she could tell, he was content with things the way they were.

  The scariest part about that was that he was surprisingly pleasant to be around—not a thought she would’ve ever had before her death. He would grant her cheery good mornings and wouldn’t give attitudes about anything she requested, even if she wanted something that was hard for him to find. She knew why. He was happy caring for her—this was something he had wanted for years.

  She tried not to dwell too much on that thought because when she did, it made her sick how differently two people could see the same situation.

  While she formulated her plan, Luna occupied herself by studying the details of everything around her until every inch of the cabin not kept under lock and key was burned into her mind. When she was sure he wasn’t paying attention, she even took note of Chance too. Most of the day he spent reading and writing in the front room, never swooping from his routine. He would be gone just about every moment when she woke up but would return an hour or so later.

  She had asked him at first, to which he pretended he didn’t hear, so she stopped trying, instead studying his clothes, his demeanor, his attitude when he returned. He was always immaculately groomed, even when he went to bed, so it was hard to tell if something was wrong. Luna had the feeling there was something though…why else go through all the trouble of keeping up his appearance?

  It’s for my benefit, she thought, thinking of how she must look to him. Dirty, wild, scruffy. She didn’t care to keep herself looking her best because she had nothing to hide.

  Luna wandered the hallway for the twentieth time that hour, studying a patch of shadows on the wall.

  How does he do it? she wondered, working up the courage to peer around the corner and study him from her hiding place. Then, with a grimace she answered both of her own questions, He has something that keeps him entertained. He must.

  And that took her mind back to his morning disappearances. It was very possible that he could be gone all night, slipping out right after she had fallen asleep, and coming back in the morning with the hopes that she would never notice he was gone.

  Does it have something to do with Cody? she wondered, and that was another angle that made her sick.

  She watched him pick up his mug, watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed his sip of whiskey, and when the mug clanged onto the table, she ducked into the shadows to avoid being seen. He certainly didn’t look the type to join a cult, but then and again, he had been successful at all of his dark deeds for that very reason. He was charming and handsome, he had always been that way, and so no one wanted to see him for anything different. Like Ted Bundy.

  One day, when she had grown tired of pacing the cabin, she had simply asked him, “What do you really look like?”

  He had peered up at her over the edge of his book before setting it on the table. “What kind of question is that?” he demanded, raising an eyebrow.

  “Well, you have naturally brown hair, right?” Luna asked, thinking of Layanna’s dark chocolate tresses. She couldn’t see it on him.

  Chance nodded. “Yeah?”

  “Why is it still blond…here and now?” Could hair dye still be obtainable after death? What an odd thought that is, Luna mused.

  Chance smirked and reached up to run his fingers through his hair, looking up through his lashes to see the lock he had gripped between his fingers. “I’ve grown fond of this color, it’s more fitting for me.”

  Luna had nodded, staring at the dust on the windowsill because suddenly, the conversation had held no interest.

  Luna made a move to peer at him again, and he looked up, catching sight of her over the top of his book. He set it down on the table with an exaggerated thump, an amused smile on his lips.

  “So, uh—” Chance paused to scratch his chin. “Why the sudden interest in me?”

  Luna considered turning back down the hall and ignoring him, but he had caught her. No use in walking away now.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I love being the center of attention and all…” He paused long enough for Luna to roll her eyes “…but you’ve been watching me lately. And that’s not like you. I’d think my hair color would be the least of your concerns.”

  Luna shrugged. She didn’t want to tell him why. It didn’t seem like any of his business. And she certainly didn’t want to admit that this was the only thing keeping her distracted from the urge to give up and seek out another sharp object.

  “That’s something I never understood about you,” Chance said, slamming the cover of his book shut. “For hating me as much as you do, you have a weird fascination with me. You might even say an obsession.”

  Luna cut her eyes at him. “Whatever you put out into the world comes back threefold.”

  Chance smiled. “Not sure whether I should be flattered or insulted by that insinuation. But really though, for everything you knew and suspected about me, why did you never make more of an effort to tell people what I am? Especially after Susan told you what I did.”

  Luna sighed and forced away the memories. “Are you kidding? I mean, honestly, who would have believed me? My Dad didn’t…Violet didn’t…the only t
ime people believed me was when you finally came to kill them and by then it was too late anyway.”

  “You and Max really are different people,” Chance said with an amused chuckle. “As soon as he had the opportunity to do so, he put me in handcuffs.”

  “I didn’t enjoy it…letting you go free,” Luna said, propping her chin on her hand.

  “I never said you did.”

  Luna’s face twitched. “I thought…with everything Max told me that…” She paused to swallow. “Well, I wanted to beat you on your own terms. I really thought I could do it.”

  “An impossible task, my dear.”

  “So, I’ve learned,” Luna uttered. With or without dreams, he had won every single round. Her dead friends were the scoreboard—the proof—that even her best had never truly been enough.

  He smirked and reached across the table to grab her hand. “So how are you today? I don’t see any more tears, and you’re actually talking to me…is it safe enough to assume that you’re okay?”

  Luna breathed in slowly, considering how to answer that question. “Better than yesterday.”

  He stared at her as if he couldn’t decide whether or not her response was good, and she didn’t bother to direct him one way or the other for the answer.

  “I think I’m going to go for a walk,” she stated, desperate to break the silence as she stood to her feet.

  Chance frowned, grasping her forearm before she could move away. “I should come with you.”

  Luna frowned. While Chance’s infinite knowledge of DreamWorld was a plus, the rest of him was not. His very presence would overshadow any potential plan of getting Asher back that she could fathom. If she ever hoped to find Amanda again, Chance trailing her would be the last thing she wanted.

  “No, that’s okay,” she said, forcing what she hoped looked like a pleasant smile on her face.

  “You can’t go out there alone,” he said, staring directly into her eyes.

  Luna’s frown deepened. “Why not? You go out there every day without me, and you always come back the same.”

  Chance opened his mouth as if he was going to argue again, but closed it, knowing he had no way to combat her words. Defeat shone in his eyes as he dropped his hand off her and murmured, “Fine.” A pause as he sat back down. “Be careful.”