Nightfall

by Douglas, Penelope

  I rubbed my thumb across her soft cheek, breathing in her hair. “Love you.”

  “Waiting…” Indie Jones Grayson groaned, answering before her mother could.

  I chuckled and pulled away. “Everyone buckled in?”

  “Check,” they chimed in.

  “Helmets?”

  “Check,” William II screamed over his sisters from the seat behind Em.

  He was actually William IV, but I was Will, we didn’t like Willy, Bill, or Billy, so everyone just called him II.

  “Hold onto your phones!” I called out, reaching for the button.

  Pushing it, the hydraulics started working underneath us, propelling us forward, and in moments we were coasting through the tunnel passing thirty miles an hour and then forty.

  “Faster!” Finn cried.

  The car rocked under us, bobbing along the track as the cool wind breezed across our faces, and Em gripped the handles at her side, unable to keep the smile off her face.

  Over the years, we’d cleared all the track between Thunder Bay and Meridian City, taking an hour commute by automobile down to fourteen minutes. Normally, we’d use a subway car, but when we were just going from house to house inside town, I added more railcars and a secondary track for two-way travel. We took the underground tunnel to my parents’ house for dinner earlier, and now have to head back across town, underneath the river, and up to St. Killian’s for tonight.

  We raced through the dim passageway, up a few inclines and quickly back down again, our stomachs dropping and the kids’ laughter and screams behind us deafening. I gripped Em’s jean-clad thigh, feeling it, too. Nothing beat a freefall.

  Except maybe one thing.

  I looked over at her, her glasses clasped in one hand as she squeezed her eyes shut and smiled. Her other hand was behind her and wrapped around II’s sneaker as she held onto him.

  He was still only five, and on the rare occasion she let him travel like this, it made her nervous. We’d been on this thing a hundred times, and I wouldn’t put my kids on something dangerous. She knew that.

  I loved watching her mother our kids, though. It was hot.

  We dipped down, the air turning cold, and I knew we were under the river, but it only lasted a few seconds before we coasted up again, and I brought the lever down, slowing the car.

  “Aw,” the kids said behind us.

  But their fun was only just beginning. Actually, all of our fun. Em and I were going to play tonight, too.

  We slowed to a stop, everyone removing their helmets and seatbelts. We climbed off the car and up to the platform. I gave the girls a hand, while Emory grabbed II. Straightening my jacket and tie, I took the girls’ hands and led them into the catacombs, up the stairs, and into the great hall of the cathedral.

  Finn and Indie immediately yanked free and bolted toward the front door, whipping it open and racing outside.

  “When the bells chime, report to the front of the house,” I yelled after them. “Immediately!”

  “Yep!” they shouted.

  William II walked past me, his face buried in his tablet.

  “Talk to me, Goose!” I said.

  “I heard you,” he sing-songed without looking around.

  I shook my head as I drifted out the door to the front yard, watching my kids join Kai’s daughter, Jett, and a few of her friends. II’s eyes hadn’t left his screen.

  “Kids today…” I mumbled.

  Em touched my shoulder, soothing me again that my son wasn’t going to play basketball. “Going to make some calls before this thing starts,” she told me, a laugh caught in her throat. “Save your energy for me. It’s going to be a hell of a night.”

  “Promise?” I looked over my shoulder as she headed back into the house.

  She winked at me and spun around.

  Stepping down the stairs, I watched the kids play, Damon’s five-year-old daughter Octavia in her standard pirate knickers, black tights, and peasant blouse with a fake sword strapped to her back. No one would break it to the kid that modern-day pirates were far different than Jack Sparrow. She wanted to be what she wanted to be.

  I looked around, not seeing the boys, so Damon and Winter must not have arrived yet. Octavia probably came with Kai and Banks, since she and Jett were about the same age and friends.

  Something to my right caught my eye, and I looked over, seeing Madden sitting up in the tree. Black suit, cold black hair, and porcelain skin—the whole package making him look like a knife.

  He held an open book in his lap, but his eyes were on the kids playing.

  Or one kid.

  I climbed up the wooden planks, reaching him about fifteen-feet high and hanging there as his gaze shot back down to his text.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey.”

  I bit back my smile at his sternness. I didn’t think anyone could be more rigid than Kai, but his son took the prize. How many eleven-year-olds dressed in crisp, pressed trousers and suit jackets and never had a hair out of place. Parted a little left of center, it shone in the sunlight, his trim perfect and stark against his pale skin.

  “Where’s your dad?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Inside somewhere.”

  I watched him stare at the book, but his eyes weren’t moving. I glanced at the kids again.

  He never joined in. He only played alone.

  Or with his cousin, Octavia. She was the only one he smiled around.

  “What are you thinking about?” I asked him.

  He shrugged.

  “Everything okay at school?”

  He nodded but still wouldn’t look at me.

  “You got plans for trick or treating with your friends tomorrow night?” I prodded.

  Slowly, he shook his head. “I don’t really like candy.”

  “Come to Coldfield, then,” I told him. “I can find a place for you with the actors.”

  He sat there, and I saw the muscles in his jaw flex.

  “Or… maybe working the animatronics in the tombs?” I taunted. “Something behind the scenes?”

  He looked over at me out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t meet my stare.

  But he didn’t shake his head, and I decided to let him save his pride.

  “I’ll pick you up at three tomorrow,” I said.

  He nodded.

  Good. He might not like to be around people, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still find his place in the world. Teachers were concerned years ago he might be on the spectrum, possibly Asperger’s. Not that it affected his education. He did well in school.

  Socially, he just wasn’t where other kids were.

  But he was able to socialize in situations where he cared to, like training with his grandfather or spending time with Octavia. He refused to see a specialist, and Kai had no interest in forcing him to be everyone else’s version of normal. I mean, look at us, for example. If we were the measure of what was normal back in the day, Mads was better off not changing.

  I started to climb down, but then I heard his voice.

  “What’s L’appel du vide?” he asked.

  I stopped and stared up at him, his dark eyes like black pools.

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “Kids at school,” he murmured.

  I cleared my throat and looked around for his parents, knowing this day was coming, but never expecting I’d have to explain this to anyone’s kids but my own. Had he asked Kai?

  I came back up a step and looked at him, eye to eye. “L’appel du vide is what binds our family,” I told him. “It’s an idea that connects us, because we all believe in it.”

  “Like a religion?”

  I hesitated for a moment, not sure if that was how I’d describe it.

  But I nodded. “Kind of,” I replied. “Michael, Rika, Winter, Damon, Emory, me, your mom and dad… It’s how we realized we weren’t alone in the world.”

  “Am I a part of it?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Is that what the kids
at school say?”

  He looked away, back to Octavia out on the lawn. “They’re too scared of me to say anything.”

  I groaned silently. We were afraid of this. Mads was certainly unnerving without any help from us, but our names also intimidated people well enough.

  It was all well and good that we’d found each other and made our family together, but to outsiders it probably looked… Well, I had no idea how it looked. All I knew was the more powerful you were—the more successful you were—the more enemies you had, and people would always try to tear you down. Our kids would hear stories about us. Stories about our businesses and Devil’s Night and the catacombs were being made up right now, no doubt. They would have to deal with the pressure of our legacy.

  Or not.

  “You’re whoever you want to be, Mads,” I told them. “Don’t ever forget that. Don’t look at the world through anyone else’s eyes but your own. Not mine, not your dad’s…not anyone’s.”

  We wanted to build something new—something that would last—but we always knew times would change, and our children would want a reality of their own. Mads might not want what we’ll leave him, but if he did want it someday, he’d look great in a mask.

  No pressure.

  He gave me a tight smile, as much as he could force himself to muster, and I smiled back, climbing down the planks.

  Indie and Jett sat on a picnic blanket, gabbing away, while Finn and II laid on the grass, tapping away on their electronics.

  I shot up one more glance at Mads, watching him watch Octavia battle a tree trunk with her sword, and tipped my head farther back, seeing the clouds almost black as they damn near touched the trees.

  I headed back inside, searching the house for the adults. We were still expecting Alex, Aydin, Micah, Rory…

  “Emergency services will be standing by should Tropical Storm Esme turn,” I heard Banks announce as I headed to the study.

  I rounded the doorway, seeing her sitting behind a desk with bookshelves displayed behind her, and the brass lamp casting a soft glow around the room.

  A camera sat in front of her, the man behind the lens peering through as he recorded.

  “But I urge you, if able, to remain indoors as strong winds are expected,” Banks continued. “A curfew is in effect beginning at eight p.m. this evening, and that does include Devil’s Night festivities.”

  I grinned, catching her eye and seeing her falter. She wore a deep blue blouse, her dark hair picture perfect, and her lips painted red.

  “Please avoid low-lying and flood-prone areas, and keep flashlights and batteries easily accessible,” she told the citizens. “We are not recommending evacuation, but please keep abreast of the storm’s development per your emergency managers. Exercise caution and stay inside.” She peered into the camera. “Thank you.”

  “And…we’re off,” her assistant announced.

  Banks’s poised expression fell, and she exhaled, rising from the chair.

  I dropped my gaze, seeing the blue jeans she hid under the desk. I chuckled. Some things never changed.

  She rounded the desk, grabbing her phone.

  “We talked about you not saying Devil’s Night,” her assistant said, jogging up next to her.

  She didn’t slow down as she headed out of the room. “Yes, we talked about it.”

  Apparently, the word devil made some voters nervous, so Banks’s campaign manager was trying to rename it.

  But no fear, right? Banks did what she wanted.

  I pulled up to her side, walking with her. “You know no one’s staying in tonight in Thunder Bay, right?”

  It was Devil’s Night, after all.

  “Of course, I know that.”

  Yeah. As our district’s representative, she had to go on air and tell everyone to stay home tonight just to say she did.

  “Where’s Kai?” I asked.

  “Working out with his dad.” She looked at her phone. “He’ll be here soon.”

  I swung around the banister to head upstairs. “You’re so hot on camera.”

  She twisted around, walking toward the kitchen backward as she winked at me. “Whatever gets me elected senator in a week.”

  I chuckled, jogging up the stairs. The campaign had been grueling, but with my grandfather’s support, I had high hopes.

  I headed down the hallway, toward the library to wait for Damon, because I knew that was the first place he’d run to when he got here, but I passed Rika and Michael’s bedroom, stopping and gazing inside.

  Michael stood at the end of the bed, his hair wet and a towel wrapped around his waist as Aaron, only six months old, rested against his chest.

  When Rika got pregnant last year, Michael damn near fainted. They had been so happy with Athos and the resort and making St. Killian’s everything it was, they’d kind of stopped trying.

  They immediately went out and bought everything, but the baby’s first bath was a complete nightmare, I guess. They set up the little tub and lotions and toys, and the kid screamed the entire time. Michael wasn’t doing that again. Against the doctor’s orders, he took the baby into the shower with him and the kid hasn’t cried once since. He just wants to be in his dad’s arms.

  I watched Michael sway back and forth, rocking the baby and just staring at him like he still couldn’t believe he was there.

  They named him after me. I’m their favorite.

  Not wanting to interrupt, I backed away and continued down the hall. Opening the door, I stepped inside, seeing Rika standing at her desk and swiping her fingers over the monitors on the wall, organizing her data, or whatever she was doing.

  “Hey,” I said.

  She looked up, chirping, “Hey.”

  I walked to the sofa and plopped down, feeling the energy drain. I was getting too old. Plain and simple.

  “How’s your mom?” I asked.

  She glanced up at me as she sifted through papers on her desk. “She’s good. She and Matthew are on an antiquing road trip through New England. She loves running that shop with him,” she mused. “She’s never had to work. I’m glad she realized how much she likes it.”

  I was happy to see Christiane thriving. She’d been living in Misha’s old house with her husband—his dad—for almost ten years, and Emory and I bought the Fane place. All four of us—Michael, Damon, Kai, and I—lived on the cliffs now.

  “Misha and Ryen are still in London with the kids,” she told me. “I think he really loves it there.”

  “Yeah, I don’t expect him back anytime soon, that’s for sure.”

  They had a boy and a girl now, and since he was a musician, and she was an interior designer, they could go anywhere.

  “You miss him?” Rika teased, swiping her hand across the screen again.

  “Always,” I said. “But he’s not wasting a moment living a life he doesn’t want. That’s what makes me happy. Even if I am perturbed that the life he wants isn’t this life.”

  She snorted, bringing up the plans for the bridge reconstruction that Emory and Damon were doing.

  “He’ll be here when it counts,” she assured me.

  I knew that.

  “Has everyone else arrived?” she asked.

  “Still waiting on Kai, Alex, and…”

  And then screaming and roars filled the air like zoo animals below us, and I sighed.

  “And Damon and Winter are finally here,” I finished.

  I watched at the door and counted the seconds, only waiting five before Damon rushed into the room, Gunnar shouting behind him.

  “I want a hug!” the kid bellowed.

  Damon slammed the door, planting his body against it like there was a bear after him as he breathed hard.

  “I got too many fucking kids,” he breathed out, looking flushed with his hair a mess.

  I bit back my smile as his sons banged against the door.

  He winced. “Where are they?”

  I looked to Rika, and Damon shot off the door, charging right for her.


  Yanking a few books off the shelf, he pulled out their stash of cigarettes and opened up the pack.

  “Rika, what the hell?” He glared down at her. “This was supposed to last a month.”

  “I was under a lot of stress,” she retorted. “Besides, you smoked almost the entire last pack.”

  I shook my head, watching Damon quickly put one in his mouth. They limited themselves to one pack a month, and since everyone was here more than anywhere else, and Damon didn’t trust himself with the responsibility, Rika got to keep the pack.

  The door to the office flew open, and Fane Torrance, Damon’s third eldest, raced in.

  “I want a hug from the hug machine!” the seven-year-old demanded.

  Damon faced away from him, flicking his lighter desperately. “The hug machine needs a recharge,” he mumbled over the cigarette.

  Rika swept past him and scooped up Fane, throwing him over her shoulder. “Come on,” she told the boy. “Let’s go find Auntie Banks for some tickle torture. Daddy needs a moment.”

  She left, taking the giggling boy with her, and closed the door. Damon blew out a stream of smoke, finally exhaling, and came to the sofa, plopping down next to me. He let his head fall back against the sofa and took another drag, blowing it out.

  “I really do love them,” he breathed out. “But I never have a moment alone. If I want my wife, I have to ambush her in the fucking shower.”

  “Maybe you should stay away from her,” I pointed out. “She gets pregnant every time you breathe on her.”

  He chuckled, and I heard commotion outside as his boys played. His oldest, Ivarsen, was only slightly younger than Madden. Gunnar was born next in Damon’s quest for a daughter. When that failed, he just kept having kids, getting himself two more sons—Fane and Dag—before Octavia finally arrived. Winter had gotten five blessed years of breathing room since.

  “You got her fixed, right?” I asked, plucking the cigarette out of his hand and drawing a puff.

  “Why?”

  I chuckled. He bitched about all the kids in his bed and all the time he didn’t get Winter to himself, but I think he might actually be up for a couple more tries to give Octavia a sister.

  He took the cigarette back and stood up, walking to the window and peering into the front yard.