Aimee could hear the familiar and comforting sounds of clacking plates and rushing water from the kitchen, as Lily Rose cleaned up the celebratory feast. She seemed always to be around during the scariest, most volatile moments at the Banfield household. Aimee found her presence infinitely comforting, and this was a moment, she thought, when everyone in the house needed some comfort.
Her father and Savana Kain stood in front of Rick and Aimee as a pair of burly movers passed through the hallway and up the stairs, hauling a load of suitcases and boxes. At least Jack had waited until their guests had left to tell them that Savana was moving in.
Rick was still steaming.
“Listen, Rick, I understand that you’re upset,” Savana was saying. “But I promise, I’m not trying to replace your mom.”
“Yeah—like that could happen,” Rick said sullenly but clamped his mouth shut at a look from his father.
“And this baby isn’t going to replace you or your sister, either,” Savana went on. “Your dad has made it very clear that you kids are his number-one priority—”
“I don’t care about you or your stupid baby,” Rick broke in.
“Exactly what is your problem?” Jack asked flatly. Aimee knew what it meant when he talked like that; his patience with Rick was gone.
“I can’t believe you’re marrying the mother of a Flats rat!” Rick exploded.
“I don’t recall asking for your opinion, and I don’t need your permission,” Jack returned sharply, but Savana put a hand on his arm, stopping him.
“Okay,” she said to Rick. “I get it. I know that you and Raphael had some problems, but when we find Raph and you get to know him, I’m sure you’ll be able to work it out. He’s really a good person—and I’m sure he’ll see that you are, too.”
“I know him as well as I want to,” Rick sneered. “Did you know he called my dad a murderer? He stood right there in our foyer and threatened him—threatened our whole family. He vandalized our property. He broke my friend Cle’von’s arm. Knocked Bran Goheen out. Now you expect me to act like we’re brothers?”
“Rick,” Jack warned.
“If he tries to move into this house, I’ll kill him!” Rick shouted. “How’s that for brothers?”
“That’s it. To your room, now,” Jack said.
Rick’s eyes ignited with fury and his fists clenched. For a second, Aimee thought he might actually attack their dad. Then he simply stood and walked out of the room. They all winced at the sound of his feet pounding up the stairs.
Savana looked at Aimee. “What about you, Aimee?” she asked gently. “You’ve been so quiet tonight. Are you okay with all this?”
Aimee shrugged. “Sure,” she said. “I guess so.”
“I know you and Raphael were close for a while,” Savana pressed on. “Will it bother you if he comes to live here when he gets back?”
Aimee was looking at her fingernails. The tip of one of them was broken. “What?” she asked distractedly.
“Raphael. I know the two of you dated. How do you feel about him now? About him living here?” Savana asked.
“How do I feel?” Aimee asked. It was strange, she knew what Savana wanted to know, but she was finding the conversation difficult to follow. It was like trying to talk to someone on a bad cell phone connection, where she could hear only about half of their words. It was frustrating.
“Yes,” Savana replied, her voice kind and concerned. “It’s not like I’m asking for your blessing, you know—about me marrying your dad. I know that will take time. I just want to know that there wouldn’t be any bad feelings between you and Raphael if—when—he comes home.”
“Oh,” Aimee said vaguely.
“So stop stalling,” Jack said impatiently. “And tell us how you feel about him.”
“I don’t know,” Aimee answered. “I guess . . . I don’t feel anything.”
“So if he comes back, it won’t bother you to have him here?” Jack asked. “And I won’t have to worry that you’re going to start something up with him again?”
“Oh—no, of course not.” Aimee thought it was a ridiculous question. She had Orias now. She wondered why her father thought she would be interested in anyone else. She had gone to some dance with Raphael—at least that’s what Dalton had told her—but she couldn’t even remember what he looked like. Right now she was wondering if she would be allowed to go back to Orias’s tonight or if her dad would insist that she stay home. The idea of sipping Orias’s delicious tea in front of the fire with his powerful arms wrapped around her made this and everything else in life seem like a meaningless waste of time.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Savana said with wary optimism. “I was a little worried. I just want you to know what I said to Rick is the truth. I’d like to be your friend, but I don’t want to replace your mom. I know how hard all this must be for you. And I want you to know that when you’re ready, I’m here for you.”
Aimee smiled. “Thanks, but there’s just one thing—no offense, Mrs. Kain,” she said and turned to her dad. “What about Mom? Aren’t you even going to look for her? She could be out there somewhere, hurt or something.”
“That’s enough, Aimee,” Jack told her harshly. “Of course I looked for her. But we have to accept it. She’s gone and there’s no trace of her anywhere. She’s been declared legally—”
“Jack, wait,” Savana interrupted him. “This is not the time.”
“Yes it is,” Jack insisted, his frustration clear. “Aimee, your mother has been declared legally . . . deceased. You’re just going to have to accept it. No matter how much we miss your mom, she isn’t coming back. She’s gone and you’ll never see her again. But my life—our lives—must go on. Okay?”
“Okay,” Aimee said, but silently, to herself, she added, Oh, I’ll see her again. As soon my teleportation skills are up to it, Orias will help me find her. And, boy, is she going to be mad when she gets back.
* * *
Savana sat wearily at the table in the Banfield’s kitchen as Lily Rose set a steaming cup of herbal tea in front of her.
“Got anything stronger?” she asked. Lily Rose gave her a reproving look.
“Kidding! I’m kidding,” Savana said. She stared into the teacup for a moment, absently swishing the bag around in the hot water. “Those kids hate me, you know.”
“Well, they’ve been going through a lot. We all have lately, haven’t we?” Lily Rose replied complacently as she loaded the dishwasher.
“You can say that again,” Savana agreed.
“You just keep yourself calm and cool and have faith that everything will be all right,” Lily Rose advised. “What you don’t want to do is worry that baby. Stress is just as bad for those unborn little ones as it is for you and me.”
“I know, and there’s something I need to ask you. I know you gave up your midwife practice a while back—”
“I know what you’re going to ask,” Lily Rose interrupted. She put down the serving platter she was rinsing and joined Savana at the table. “Have you asked Jack about it? You know he always wants the best—and to him that’s a big shiny hospital and a high-priced doctor. Not some tired old woman who cleans his toilets.”
“But you are the best,” Savana said earnestly. “Everyone in town says so. They say you can perform miracles. And I need your help. Because there’s something . . . this baby, Lily Rose. Something is . . . different.”
She was about to say more when she looked up and saw Jack standing in the doorway.
“What?” he asked. “What about our baby is different?”
Savana hesitated for a second. “It . . . oh, it’s nothing,” she said finally. “It just kicks more than usual. Here—feel.”
Jack came over and put his hand on her stomach.
“I don’t feel anything,”
he said. She could tell he was in a bad mood again. It was hard to keep up with Jack. One minute he’d be so sweet and kind and charming, then something would go wrong and he would turn cold and distant, as if his relationship with her was just another frustrating business transaction he had to endure.
“Jack, did you know Lily Rose is a licensed midwife?” She turned to the old black woman. “How many babies did you say you’ve delivered, Lily Rose?”
“Two hundred and five,” Lily Rose said proudly and went to the dishwasher again.
“That’s nice,” Jack said, taking a bottle of Scotch from the cabinet and pouring himself a glass.
“I was thinking of asking Lily Rose to deliver the baby,” Savana said.
“Well, stop thinking about it,” Jack replied and then took a sip of his drink. “No offense, Lily Rose, but Dr. Rosenberg at Stormont-Vail in Topeka is a friend. We’ll go there.”
“But what if the baby comes early, Jack? We can’t drive all the way to Topeka—”
“I’ve rented a condo in the city for you to move into a couple of weeks before the due date. I’ll be there every weekend, and I’ll have a driver on call in case you go into labor when I’m not there.” He smiled at Savana. “You see, my darling—I think of everything.”
“That’s great, Jack, and I appreciate it, but—”
“It’s nonnegotiable,” he said harshly and then added gently, “my love.” He downed the last of his drink and walked out of the kitchen.
Lily Rose turned on the dishwasher and wiped her hands on her apron. “Well, I guess I’m just about done here,” she said, giving Savana a sympathetic smile. “But if you need me, you know right where to find me, don’t you?”
* * *
Aimee sat on her bed and looked around her room. It had been so long since she’d spent time here that everything seemed unfamiliar. But even stranger than her surroundings was a sudden recollection of the girl she had been before she met Orias. If she was still that girl, she would have freaked out tonight, when her father had grabbed her arm after Savana went into the kitchen with Lily Rose, marched her up the stairs, and thrust her into her bedroom. She would have been wracked with misery at the threat he had snarled at her, that she would be sorry if she tried to see Orias again until after he and Savana were married. If she acted up again, he had promised, he would send her back to boarding school immediately.
“You think just because I’m going into business with Orias that you can do whatever you want,” he’d said. “But you’re going to do what I want for a change—and that is to keep your butt at home and make Savana feel welcome and help her get ready for the wedding. Got it?”
Without waiting for her to answer, he’d slammed the door and locked it. The sound of the lock clicking into place would have sent the old Aimee into a downward spiral of hurt and anxiety. That familiar crippling, gnawing fear that came from feeling trapped and powerless would have crept up her spine until it paralyzed her. But now, as she dangled her feet off the bed, she was only amused.
Serene, she rose from the bed, smoothed her skirt with her hands, and looked at her closed door. “Bye, Daddy,” she said and teleported out of her room.
It took less than a second. It felt something like a shiver, and Aimee was so good at it from all her practice with Orias that it took no more effort than a sneeze. When she opened her eyes, she was standing in the middle of Orias’s parlor in front of a crackling fire. He sat in his usual spot on the couch, gazing into the trembling flames, and sipping from his chalice. As Aimee appeared, however, he started, almost spilling his drink.
“You’ve got to stop sneaking up on me like that!” he exclaimed. He put down the drink and pulled her into his arms. “You’ll give me a heart attack.”
Aimee laughed. “Oh, I didn’t know that Nephilim have hearts,” she teased.
“I don’t,” Orias said tenderly. “Not anymore. I gave mine to you.”
Aimee smiled and pressed her head against his broad, powerful chest, inhaling the strange incense and musk scent that marked his divine presence.
“I thought your father wanted you to sleep at home,” Orias observed.
“He did,” Aimee said, nuzzling her face into his shirt. “But I didn’t want to. And thanks to everything you taught me, no one can control me anymore.”
She lifted her head and looked at him. He seemed strangely disturbed for a moment, but the expression disappeared quickly, replaced by his usual charming smile.
“Anyway, I can slip back into my room before school tomorrow, right?” she said.
“Of course, my love. Now . . . how about a nice cup of tea?”
* * *
Zhai stood for a long time in the shadowed hallway, staring at the swirling patterns of the wood grain in his father’s study door. For the last few months, curiosity and resentment had risen within him like a cresting flood, but as many times as he’d approached this door, something had always made him shy away from confronting his father about his association with the Order of the Black Snake. For a long time, he’d thought it was respect, but lately he’d begun to think it might be fear—fear of what his father might tell him.
Either way, there was no more time for hesitation. Master Chin was barely hanging on to life. The Toppers were falling apart. And if Zhai lost his duel with Rick on Saturday, the shards the other Toppers possessed might be lost, too—at least until the Obies tracked them down. And once they presented the reassembled ring to their serpent god, who knew what would happen?
Ironically enough, it wasn’t any of these potential calamities that had finally driven Zhai to his father’s study. It was the phone call from Nass. His family had been evicted from their home by a company Zhai’s father and Jack Banfield owned.
Before the search for Raphael started, Zhai had been certain that he wouldn’t like Nass. He remembered watching the Flatliner’s break-dancing routine during his first week of school and thinking that he was just a loudmouthed showoff, a ham who cared about nothing but stirring up trouble and being the center of attention. But when the two had joined forces in the search for Raphael, Zhai had been amazed. When other Flatliners began giving Zhai attitude, it was always Nass who reminded them that they were all working together to find their friend. Nass was truly hilarious, but his jokes were good-natured and inclusive, not the boastful, crass humor Zhai had expected. And often at the end of a long day of searching, Zhai, Maggie, and Nass had been the last three still out looking for Raphael. The more he observed Nass’s work ethic, his leadership, and his generosity, the more he admired him. At times, it felt like they were a two-man gang of their own—the only two people in town fighting for peace, when everyone else was clamoring for a fight.
So when Zhai had learned that Nass’s family had been thrown out of their home, he had decided he could no longer stand by while whatever his father was doing went forward.
Nass said that the Flatliners were sure that the evictions in the Flats had been part of the Obies’ search for the ring. That search was over, yet the evictions continued. Zhai intended to find out why. He also had a few other questions he wanted his father to answer.
Before he could lose his nerve, he reached out and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” his father’s voice sounded from within.
As usual, the moment Cheung had returned home from the Banfields’ party he’d barricaded himself in his study. Zhai entered it now and found his father sitting at his desk, looking at two computer monitors set up side by side. He gazed at them for a moment longer before pulling his eyes away.
“Hello, Zhai,” he said. “What can I do for you this evening?”
The last phrase was one Cheung Shao had picked up many years ago in an English for Business course, and he was particularly fond of it. Zhai would have preferred a less impersonal greeting, but he was in no mood to correct his
father—not tonight.
He placed both hands on the desk, palms down. Four puffy, crimson lines on the back of each of his hands showed clearly in the lamplight. If anyone looked closely, they would be able to see the remnants of the defaced markings beneath the scars—black tattoos that had been the Chinese symbols for the word slave. So far, Zhai had kept the scars and the marks beneath them hidden from Cheung Shao. Now he made sure he saw them.
His father stared down at his hands and then cleared his throat. His face was so rigid with tension that his lips barely moved as he asked, “What happened?”
“The Order of the Black Snake,” Zhai said. “They marked me.”
Cheung went suddenly pale. “I . . . I’ve never heard of them—”
“No!” Zhai interrupted. It was the first time he’d ever raised his voice to his father, and it felt like a floodgate opening. A raging torrent of emotion drove him on. “Stop lying to me! The men in derby hats marked me. Your guests, Father. They tattooed my hands and made me their slave. The only way I could be free was to do this to myself—to burn the marks off. Now their leader is in town—and he almost killed Master Chin. I need you to tell me what’s going on, and how to stop them.”
Cheung shook his head. “I . . . I don’t know. I don’t know anything about them.”
“Yes, you do,” Zhai insisted. “They told me that they own you, that they’re in business with you somehow. Just admit that it’s true! Admit you’re working with them!”
Zhai’s father stared back at him, his face as still as a death mask. Filled with a sudden frustration, Zhai slammed both his fists down on the desk. “At least tell me why the evictions in the Flats are still going on. My friend and his family just got thrown out of their apartment—he’s homeless now, because of your company!”
Cheung sniffed and then wiped his nose with a handkerchief. “My work in the Flats is done,” he said calmly. “I’ve sold my share of all those properties to Jack Banfield. He has a ten-year redevelopment plan for the area—outlet malls and condos, mixed-use properties. An office park. If your friend has a problem, he should take it up with Banfield.”
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