Lionel was the only one who noticed Tabitha off in the corner, her arms folded tightly against her chest, as she glared bitterly at her half-sisters.
Frosty
Melaenis sat huddled against the wall of the building to shelter himself from the blowing snow.
"God, I can't believe this weather. Why in the world would anyone live in such a place? I won't be warm until August. And by then, it'll be getting cold again."
Alphenius leaned against the railing of the deck a few feet away, her hood thrown back and her long curls of blonde hair frozen with ice crystals.
"I love this time of the year. The snow is beautiful. I think this may be my favorite season."
"If I had any doubts left that you are as demented as me, you've put them to rest. Why don't we sneak into the lodge and get warm? We still have plenty of daylight left. We're already two tricks and a set of skis ahead."
"What happened to that go get 'em spirit of this morning? 'We're going to break our record today, Alp. I feel it in my bones.' " She mimicked her brother.
Mel groaned. "That was after a good night’s sleep in a warm bed. I've been freezing my buns off for four hours. It's time for a break. Let's go in..." Mel stopped in mid-sentence and cocked his head to one side. After a few seconds, he relaxed. "Sorry, false alarm. I thought we had a good one coming for a second."
Alp walked over to him and offered her hand to him. "Okay, Frosty, let's go melt some snow off you, but we can't stay long. We have a record to break today, and it won't help if security catches on to us."
The twins walked hand-in-hand into the large dining hall of the main lodge. It was close to the noon hour, and hundreds of holiday skiers jammed the hall, most of them still clumping around in their ski boots. The chance of security spotting their two favorite pickpockets in such a crowd was fairly remote. Nevertheless, they both kept their eyes open and their mental guards alert.
Mel stood in the large dining area gazing over the crowd with a familiar smile on his face, and his hands dug into the pocket of his ski jacket. After a moment, Alp turned her attention to him and noticed his expression.
"You're thinking of it again, aren't you?"
Mel nodded and laughed. "You're not probing my mind, are you?"
"No need to. It shows on your face. I don't think you can come in here without the notion popping in your mind, and you can just pop it back out."
Mel shook his head. "Now, Alp, I've told you I'm not really serious about it. It's just a pleasant fantasy, a mental exercise to keep me alert. You have to admit. This place would be a breeze to rob. All the hard work and risk we take outside with the scams and the ski heists when in one evening we could make enough money to unite our Kindred. Hell, we'd have enough for us all to retire as millionaires—all ten of us."
Alp stared at her brother, her mouth open in awe. "You know how many there are down there? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Sorry, Alp. I didn't know for sure until last night. My readings are stronger just before I fall asleep and when I first wake up. Last night I managed to stay in that twilight state between sleep and wakefulness long enough to get a clear image of seven sisters."
"You're kidding me. All sisters! That's incredible."
"That's what I thought," Mel agreed. "It makes for a most promising future."
Alp looked at him confused. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, nothing. Let's get closer to the fire; my snow isn't melting fast enough."
They threaded their way through the crowd until they were only a few feet from the huge stone fireplace at the far end of the room. Mel removed his gloves and unzipped his jacket. Alp followed suit. They didn't speak for a couple of minutes, satisfied simply to enjoy the warm glow.
Finally, Alp looked at her brother inquisitively. "Wait a minute. You said that all ten of us could retire, but including you, me and the seven sisters that’s only nine."
"Boy, you're sharp today," Mel replied with a chuckle. "But you're right. There was another distinct presence last night that was different from the other seven. Not sure who or what it was, but I figure it must be somehow related to us, so that makes ten."
"Were you able to tell where they are?"
"Nah, not yet, but it'll come sooner or later. I do know they're together or at least, very close. I'm pretty sure it's south of us, and I think they aren't there because they want to be. Then again, neither are we."
"You know," Mel continued as he turned his back to the fire and focused his attention on the crowd again, "I bet we could knock this place over in a heartbeat, and no one would be the wiser. I've watched their procedure at closing, and I know where they put the money. I bet you anything I could crack their safe in ten minutes—maybe even five."
Alp looked at him with an exasperated expression. "You never stop, do you? I've told you a thousand times we'd get caught. We might not have it so great right now, but it sure beats juvenile camp."
"I know, I know, just my mental gymnastics. Let's get something to eat — my treat."
"Big spender," Alp said as she followed him to the cafeteria line, "with someone else's money."
The jangle of the phone reverberated through Chickowski's sleep. Still groggy, he picked up the receiver and laid it against his ear. "Good evening, Doctor. Brown here. I'm sorry to call you so late, but I've been in meetings all day. How goes it with our little family?"
Chickowski propped himself up in bed and turned on the lamp next to the phone. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he said, "They are doing well. We've had a breakthrough since your last call. They are now talking."
"Fantastic. I knew they had to at some point. No one with such IQs could keep a lid on it forever. Anything to report on Flip?"
Chickowski groaned to himself. Brown, damn him, was never satisfied. Always the same question—any news on Flip? And always the same answer—no. When Chickowski had taken over Flip's well-being and had then convinced Franklin to attempt to restore Flip’s reproductive capacity, he'd thought it a real stroke of genius on his part. He'd had no idea it could be so frustrating or that Brown would be so tenacious.
"No, unfortunately, nothing yet. But we're overdue for a breakthrough there. I just know it."
"My associates are very anxious to have a viable sample from your American playboy. They would like to see some return on their investment...soon." Brown's voice had taken on an icy edge.
"I know, I know." Chickowski could feel the perspiration trickle down his arms. He already knew what Brown's next statement would be.
"It's not that I mean to put undue pressure on you, my dear doctor. I wouldn't want to inhibit your creative juices in such a way, but you must understand. I'm in the middle of this just like you. The gentlemen with the purse strings are suggesting perhaps you would have better results if we relocated the two of you to a location where you would have less stringent controls."
"I understand all that, Mr. Brown." Chickowski tried to keep the edge out of his voice. "And if I thought it would make any difference, I'd do it in a heartbeat," Chickowski lied. "But it won't. It's not worth the risk, at least not yet. Tell your people to be patient."
"I will tell them, friend, but as you know, it's not one of their virtues." Brown's chuckle was void of any humor. "I will be in touch."
Before Chickowski could say anything else, the line went dead. He laid in his bed listening to the dial tone, wondering for the thousandth time how he had ever gotten himself into such a mess.
Despite the cold air and the layer of frost that covered the bark, the treehouse always gave Alp a warm feeling. This place is my home. She thought as she looked around. Not that dreary log cabin with all the bad memories, but here, in the house Mel and I built.
"Sad excuse for a home if you ask me." Mel's voice startled Alp from her thoughts.
"You were probing my mind again," she said defensively.
"And you weren't guarding it again. I told you. You've got to guard it at all times, even from me. If you can keep your guard up a
gainst me, we won't have to worry about any hocus-pocus Sarrah tries to pull."
"Do you really think she's still trying to read our minds?"
"I do not doubt it. She's paranoid enough to do just about anything. I've also noticed she's been doing a lot of reading her books lately. She's up to something, all right." Mel turned to the small lantern.
"Let's go before she starts missing us."
"Just a minute more. I like it up here. It feels safe, and we don't get much chance to come up here anymore,” Mel said.
"Mel, how much money do we have now?"
"Almost two thousand."
"Isn't that enough? Couldn't we go to our Kindred now?” Alp asked. “I'd love to see what our sisters are like."
"Have you gone daft? It's the middle of winter. It's the best time to make some easy money, not to mention how unpredictable the weather is for traveling. But most of all, you forget one important fact: we don't know where they are yet. What would you suggest we do, run an ad: 'HELP, have lost seven sisters. If found, please call...?' "
"Be patient, Alp. It won't be much longer. By springtime, we should know where they are and have plenty of money to get us there in style. In the spring, we'll unite the Kindred. Don't worry."
He blew out the lantern, and together, they climbed down the tree. They circled the cabin to approach it from the right direction. As they neared the porch, Mel placed a hand on Alp's arm and stopped her.
"Remember, guard your thoughts at all times. Sarrah may be crazy in her old age, but she's no dummy. If she finds out what our plans are, our goose is cooked."
Alp nodded, and they entered the cabin.
As usual, Sarrah was dozing in front of the fire. Her health had continued to deteriorate. She had continued to gain weight and was now well over three hundred pounds, and the sores had spread over much of her body. She had resorted to wearing only loose, sack-like dresses that hung on her frame. In numerous places, she had cut away the fabric to keep it from rubbing on particularly raw sores. The old rocking chair had been replaced by a custom-built wheelchair that looked more like a wheelbarrow. Although her massive arms were still strong enough to wheel herself around, she seldom moved from her spot in front of the fireplace. Her disposition had continued to rot, along with her body.
As Mel closed the door, Sarrah's head bobbed against her chest a couple of times. Then, her eyes opened. "Where the hell ya been? Out lazying around again, while your old mom's inside here starving to death. Get me some tea and start up the fire again. It's colder than a witch's tit in here."
Alp glanced at Mel as he jumped to add some wood to the fire. Already, the steady glazed look had frozen over his face — the protected, guarded look that was always present whenever he was around Sarrah. She tried to mimic it but usually failed.
"What good are you two? Keeping me waiting half the night for my supper. Where ya been? Planning my murder?"
"No, ma'am. We just came down the mountain," Alp answered in a whisper. "We did pretty well today, almost broke our record."
"Almost broke your record," Sarrah mimicked her. "Well, where's the money? Come on, hand it over."
Mel stopped his poking at the fire and dug into his jacket pocket for the wad of bills.
"Is this all of it? Ya sure? You wouldn't be holding back on me, would you?" Sarrah stared at one and then, the other. When neither one answered, she continued, "Ya know if I found out you were holding out on me, I'd skin you alive. I'd drape your skin across the fireplace there and cure it for slippers; I would." She continued to glare at her two children.
"What you got hidden up in that treehouse, Alphenius?"
Alp tried not to look surprised by the question but was unable to meet Sarrah's eyes. "You heard me, what you two doing up in that treehouse all the time?"
Alp continued to stare at the floor. At the last moment, she caught the sudden movement of Sarrah as she whipped her stick from the side of the wheelchair and swung it at her. It caught Alp on the side of her neck and shoulder and sent her reeling out of Sarrah's range.
"Got you," Sarrah shrieked with a laugh as though she had finally managed to swat a fly that had been pestering her.
"Leave her alone!" Mel yelled as he placed himself in front of his sister.
"Ahh, you want some of this here stick, yourself?" Sarrah swung the stick again, this time aiming for Mel's head, but before it reached its target, Mel caught it in his hand. For several seconds, they played tug-of-war with the stick. Finally, Sarrah hissed in angry frustration and yanked it out of his grasp.
"Don't you push me," Sarrah spat each word out. "I'll make your life such a living hell; you'll be asking Satan to come and save you."
Mel stepped back a couple feet to get out of her range. "Leave Alp alone. She wasn't doing anything. We don't do anything in the treehouse. It's just where we like to play; that's all."
"Ah, stop your lip-flapping lies. I know you're scheming to kill me, but you won't. I'm too mean to die and too clever for the likes of you. Scheme to your hearts' content, it won't matter. I'll outfox you. Ol' Madame Sarrah's powers are too great for some young whippersnappers like you. Now, get on with my supper before I lay into you with my stick again."
Still rubbing the red welt where the last blow had landed, Alp skulked into the kitchen. At the doorway, she turned and threw Mel a thought.
Soon, Mel. It's got to be soon!
She glanced at Mel in time to catch him motioning to her. He placed his hand to his temple and twisted an imaginary key. Lock your mind, he thought back.
Chunk bulled his way through the door of his office, as though his charge would overwhelm the day. Lionel looked up just in time to catch the last glimmers of a smile on the large man's face before the familiar scowl replaced it. Chunk unbuttoned the heavy winter coat that made him look even more like a bear and tossed it in on the coat rack. He muttered something under his breath that Lionel didn't catch.
"What's that you were saying?"
Chunk looked up, startled he wasn't the only one in the room. "Oh, Lionel, it's you. Sorry, I'm late for our meeting. I stopped by the nursery on my way in just now. I'm stunned that's all. Since those blessed kids started talking, you can't shut them up. I wouldn't say any of them would win a personality contest, but in comparison to what they were, they've made incredible headway. They have certainly come out of their shells."
"You were down at the nursery?" Lionel asked in amazement.
"Yes, I was. What's wrong with that? I am in charge of the little snots, after all."
"Yeah, but to go down there before you've even checked into your office. I can't believe it. You wouldn't be getting attached to them, would you?"
"What I'm attached to Mr. Adams, is my job. The Kindred happens to be my responsibility — one I do not take lightly. Now, if you'll step into my office, we'll get on with the meeting."
Lionel shook his head as he followed Chunk into the office. He should have known better than to think the bastard might have a heart.
"The Kindred? Where did you get that term from?" Lionel asked.
"It's what they've been calling themselves, evidently. Bridgette used it several times. It seems to fit." Chunk walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup, ignoring his guest completely.
Lionel smiled and walked over to pour a cup for himself. After a few sips of the dark brew, both men took their accustomed places, Chunk seated behind the large mahogany desk, and Lionel on the overstuffed couch.
"What was it you wanted to see me about, Lionel? It seemed unusual for you to request a private meeting without Franklin or Dr. Chickowski."
"Well, it's a touchy matter, and I didn't want to broadcast it to everyone else. I wanted to see if we could handle it man-to-man."
Chunk placed his mug on the desk and leaned forward. "This sounds serious. Spit it out."
Lionel paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. Finally, he said, "I think we're losing sight of the fact that many of the research speci
mens in this lab are not guinea pigs or rats. They are human beings who need to be treated with respect."
"What's your point?"
"My point is that Dr. Chickowski informed me that Flip is not to have any visitors until further notice. He told me you approved it, and the order includes Denise, Bridgette and me."
"Lionel, get a hold of yourself. No one is going to hurt anyone, least of all your friend. It's either this, or we unhook the machines. Which would you prefer?"
Lionel glared at Chunk. How could the man be so cold and ruthless? He's talking about Flip like he's just some piece of meat lying in a petri dish. He decided to try another tact.
"I request a full report of the findings."
"I'll see what I can do, but I can't promise anything," Chunk replied, returning Lionel's steady gaze.
"What about the kids? Are they next?"
"What are you talking about?"
"It's back to my original concern. These are human beings we are dealing with, not lab specimens. Where do we draw the line with our testing? A few months ago, Dr. Chickowski told me that you were considering exploratory surgery to determine why they weren't talking. Is that right?"
"It was being considered, yes, but that's water over the dam. As it turns out, it isn't necessary. I never made a final decision on it."
"But you would have done it, right?"
It was Chunk's turn to stand now. "Lionel, get one thing straight. I'm in charge. You may not like that. You may not like me or my decisions. But, it still stands: I'm in charge. If you don't like it, you can tender your resignation. Until that time, I advise you to keep your nose out of my business. I've no hesitancy about cutting off whatever gets in my way. Do you understand?"
"Jawoll, Commandant!" Lionel answered, clicking his heels together as he did. "Ve vill follow orders to the end," he said in a terrible German accent. He stomped to the door. "I only hope when all this is over, our beloved fatherland wins. Otherwise, we may have the opportunity to visit our own Nuremberg trials."
Wrath
Alp propped her chin on the broom handle and listened to the soft pattering drizzle on the roof. The first rain had come early this year. Rain in mid-March meant a lot of lost income for the ski slope, which in turn meant lost opportunities for them. Sarrah had kept them home today; knowing few of the "money people" would be out on a rain-soaked ski slope on a Tuesday. Alp had hoped they'd be allowed to play in the treehouse, but Sarrah had other plans.
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