In Icarus' Shadow

by Matthew Jones

  Chapter Eight

  It had been a busy week since Thomas' run-in with Burgess' henchmen and Nadia's encounter with Black. For her, anyway; she completely refused to accept her injured friend's offers to help. She simply would not let him exert himself while he was supposed to be healing, no matter how much he hated having to sit by and do nothing. The apartment had needed to be cleaned up from the wrecking it had been given and her desktop computer had also needed replacing. The loss was not as great as she had feared, though, because the perpetrators had not taken the time to make sure all parts inside her computer were broken. She had been very pleased when the computer store she brought the battered tower to was able to transfer its hard drive to her new computer. Nadia had handled the clean-up and replacement entirely on her own, to her personal satisfaction and Thomas' couch-bound frustration.

  The only thing that had cast a pall over Nadia's work was the impending dinner with her parents. It wasn't that she disliked spending time with them, quite the opposite in fact, but she knew that they would voice their concerns over the danger her case was leading her into. The fact that Thomas still had the vague remnants of a black eye visible on his face, not to mention the lingering trail of bruises on his arms, would be more than proof enough that serious unpleasantness had already resulted from their efforts. Worrying for their daughter's safety was their right as her parents, of course, so that was fine. The reason it weighed on her thoughts was that she was not sure she had enough confidence in the case to stand up for it anymore; she had to admit to herself that she had done her level best not to think about it at all during her clean-up efforts. What had happened, what had nearly happened, still frightened her and, while she appreciated Thomas' efforts to encourage her, there was writing on the wall. And it seemed to be telling her that she was in far too deep and it might be a better idea to pull out before she drowned herself, or someone else.

  Nadia sighed and gave herself a shake to clear her thoughts. Unbuckling her seat belt, she got out of the car and moved around to the passenger side to help Thomas, but found her friend already out and standing. She gave him an apologetic smile in response to his 'I can manage by myself, thank you' expression, but nevertheless took hold of his arm as they moved away from her car. The gesture seemed to steady her nerves more than anything, but she smiled softly as she saw him taking in the scenery. A small, but wondrous, garden took up most of the house's front lawn, filled with more than just beautiful flowers. Fantasy-themed statuettes that had been converted into fountains had been placed among the flowers to great effect, giving it the overall appearance of being a snapshot of some forgotten time or imaginary place.

  "Your parents have the coolest garden I have ever seen."

  Nadia laughed half-heartedly. "Yeah, mom needed a hobby after she retired from the force and daddy found a new outlet for his artistic talents."

  Thomas looked away from the garden and back to her. "You don't sound too happy to be here. What's wrong? Are you still thinking that they're going to grill you about my injuries?"

  She nodded slowly. "Yeah, pretty much."

  He sighed, but smiled. "I keep telling you, I'm fine. Really. I'm almost all healed up as it is and before you know it there won't be so much as a scar left to show it ever happened."

  "This time. What if you aren't so lucky the next time, Thomas? We tried to be careful about it and it still went terribly wrong."

  "You're not still thinking about giving up, are you? Not after all the work you've put in?"

  She shrugged weakly. "I don't want to talk about it right now, Thomas. I'm sure my parents will bring it up before long. I want to be able to eat something before they broach the subject and put me off my appetite."

  Thomas nodded and let the subject rest. Reaching the front door, they rang the bell and waited. Nadia felt a mounting urge to run beginning to crawl into her legs, but her friend's calm demeanour held her steady. The sound of her parents' hushed voices approaching the door distracted her from her anxiety somewhat, as well. She forgot her nervousness entirely when she saw them sneaking a glance at Thomas around the edges of the curtain covering the door's window. Sighing softly, she smiled in spite of herself at their antics and let the feeling of being home wash over her. When her parents opened the door after a few further moments of whispered deliberation, they smiled at the pair as innocently as children.

  Ignoring their daughter's protests, they pulled her into a hug and she resigned herself to some familial embarrassment. "Welcome home, Sweet-Pea. We were starting to think we would never see you again, holed up in that apartment of yours."

  Attempting to disentangle herself from her parents' vice-grip, with limited success, Nadia smiled patiently. "I told you, I'm a grown woman now and I have my own home. I'll always love coming to visit, but I have things to do."

  Her mother tapped her on the nose. "Young lady, until you have a family of your own, that apartment isn't a home, just a place to stay."

  "Not that you need to start a family of your own so early on in your life, Darling," her father interjected. He gave an involuntary glance toward Thomas, who was standing back from the display of affection with an amused expression.

  Nadia rolled her eyes. "I have no such plans, Daddy, you don't need to worry. But you're being terribly rude, ignoring our guest like this."

  Her parents released her and smiled apologetically at Thomas. Nadia motioned Thomas forward and smiled quietly to herself when she saw the faintest hint of shyness as he stepped closer. She let him take a few deep breaths before introducing him. "Mom, Daddy, this is Thomas."

  "Thomas Carmichael," he supplied before her parents could ask.

  Her parents smiled politely and looked him over, as he did the same to them. He winced as their eyes began to focus on his injuries, but he focused on committing them to memory. Her father was a lean sort of a man, with surprisingly fair features, blue eyes and a head of dark hair beginning to show streaks of grey. Her mother, having been a police officer for most of her life, was similarly fit, though Thomas suspected she was stronger than her lithe build would suggest. She had a naturally tan skin tone, with green eyes and black hair. The resemblance between Nadia and her mother was obvious, but Nadia's skin tone was slightly lighter and her features were slightly softer, like her father's.

  With the period of visual examination over, it was her parents' turn to introduce themselves. "Sam and Victoria Lawson. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Carmichael."

  He could see they wanted to ask about his injuries, but they held their curiosity for the moment. "Please, it's just Thomas. And thank you for inviting me to dinner; it was very kind of you. I'm sure you would have preferred an evening alone with your daughter."

  Mrs. Lawson chuckled. "Direct, honest and just a little humble. Good traits in a young adult. Well Thomas, from what little our daughter has seen fit to share with us, you have been a big help to her in her investigations. We agreed that you deserved a half-decent home-cooked meal, at the very least."

  "Mom!" Nadia blushed. "I can cook just fine, thank you!"

  Her mother laughed aloud, seeming pleased that her daughter had taken the bait. "Oh, she's getting worked up; I think I've hit a sore spot! What do you think of Nadia's cooking?" she asked, turning back to Thomas. Nadia saw her father glance up, awaiting Thomas' answer with a serious expression.

  Thomas glanced to the ground for a moment, suddenly bashful. "Well, to be honest Mrs. Lawson, I haven't had any of it yet. I sort of volunteered myself for the cooking. For the past couple of days it was the only job she'd let me do."

  Nadia, still watching her father, saw a mixture of emotions crossing her father's face. She was snapped out of her thoughts by her mother tapping her lightly on the nose again. "Sorry, Sweet-Pea, looks to me like you're going to have to impress your house-guest with your skills tomorrow night, or you're going to be out-voted on the cooking issue for the foreseeable future."

  "Huh? Oh. Yeah, it looks that way, Mom." She tried her best to
sound genuine, but she could not hide her frown as she watched her father. He was being entirely too quiet for her liking.

  "Speaking of cooking," Mr. Lawson ventured, finally joining the conversation. "Our supper is going cold while we stand around out here."

  Mrs. Lawson glanced to her husband, her own smile flickering for a moment, but recovering quickly. "Yes, that's right, come in, come in!"

  Nadia sighed. She knew what was coming now, but didn't say anything as she and Thomas found themselves swept inside ahead of their hosts. She kept a watchful eye on her father, who seemed tense but thoughtful; he was preparing to do something he found unpleasant, she was certain. Thomas, fortunately, remained oblivious to this while taking in the interior of Nadia's childhood home. It was a nice place, to be sure, and while it was certainly no mansion, it had a comfortable feeling to it. The walls and floor looked to be made of real wood and tastefully done, with varnish and great care taken in the work. The hallway was hung with pictures, some of which Thomas recognized from Nadia's apartment, but there were many others of her parents at varying stages of their lives and relationship. Ushered into the dining room, he saw the table had been set in high style; a red tablecloth, candles set in the centre and the food set out on real china plates. He heard himself let out a low whistle and Nadia tapped him lightly on the forehead.

  "Earth to Thomas, come in Thomas."

  "Hmm?" Seemed to be all he could muster, turning to look at her.

  "You're supposed to be sitting down." She gestured toward the table in answer to his bemused look and he saw her parents were already at their places at either end of the table.

  He felt himself turning red and he hurried to his place, across from Nadia. "Sorry."

  Mrs. Lawson chuckled. "That's quite all right; I take your loss of words as a compliment. It took a lot of work and a lot of years to get this place just right. Isn't that right, Dear?"

  Mr. Lawson nodded in agreement, but was too preoccupied with studying Thomas as they all sat to respond.

  Clearing her throat, Mrs. Lawson smiled again. "Well then, help yourselves. There's plenty, we made sure of that. Nadia can point out the highlights of our menu; she knows better than anyone what we specialize in. Feeding her as a child was quite the challenge with her appetite, but it paid off in the end. She grew up to be so beautiful."

  Nadia snorted into her drink at this, blushing crimson even as she choked on her half-swallowed beverage. "Are you trying to embarrass me to death, Mother?"

  Mrs. Lawson smiled innocently. "Of course not, Sweet-Pea. Just stating a fact. Wouldn't you agree with me, Thomas?"

  Thomas quickly busied his face with a long, slow sip of milk from his glass, effectively dodging the question, while Mrs. Lawson laughed quietly to herself at the pair's embarrassment.

  Mr. Lawson, seemingly finished with his period of silence, picked up his fork. Before taking a bite, he paused and glanced at Thomas. "So, Thomas, where did you get those bruises and that black eye?"

  Thomas swallowed hard and had his turn coughing as his drink went down the wrong way. Nadia glanced to her mother pleadingly and Mrs. Lawson gave her daughter's hand a quick squeeze in reply. "Must we talk about that now, Dear?"

  "Yes," he replied. "I think we do. And I have a few other questions I would like to ask the young man, as well."

  Nadia bristled. "Don't turn this into an interrogation. Not at the dinner table." She sighed, feeling her appetite fading. "Please, Daddy?"

  Mr. Lawson glanced to her and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Sweet-Pea, but odds are you're going to whisk yourselves out the door as soon as we're done eating to avoid this conversation, so I have to catch you early."

  She opened her mouth to protest, but Nadia knew the ring of truth when she heard it and let the words stifle in her throat. Her father nodded once and turned back to Thomas. "Well?"

  "Uh." Thomas nearly kicked himself over his auspicious opening statement. "Well..."

  The older man fixed him with an even, calculating gaze that made Thomas feel transparent. "If you're scrambling to come up with something you think I want to hear, don't. One, you don't know me well enough to make it convincing. Two, I know Nadia has been getting herself, and you, involved in dangerous affairs so you won't be ratting her out. And three, I was a paid journalist for thirty years. I was following reporters around and helping in their office from the age of eight. I pride myself on knowing the truth when I hear it and you aren't nearly practised enough to fool me at your age."

  Thomas swallowed again, despite having nothing in his mouth. "Y-yes, Sir. I mean, no, Mr. Lawson, I wasn't trying to come up with anything." He took a deep breath. "I was beaten in a back alley by some of Tyrone Burgess' thugs, about a week ago."

  Mr. Lawson sighed a long and loaded sigh. "I see. And what possessed you to enter an alley occupied with said undesirables?"

  Nadia bristled again. "Daddy, stop it. Thomas didn't just walk into an alley looking for trouble; he's not like that at all! It was my plan that went wrong."

  Her father held up a hand. "Be quiet for now, Nadia. I want to hear him say it."

  Thomas fidgeted. "I was supposed to meet Black, whom you know about already, in front of Nadia's building and from there take him to meet with Nadia. She had picked a location near the police headquarters; we hoped it would keep things peaceful. The man I met with was an imposter and he tricked me into revealing the location of the meeting to another of Burgess' men posing as a cab driver. I was careless and-"

  Mr. Lawson raised his hand again, this time to stop Thomas. "That's fine, son. That's all I wanted to know."

  Thomas blinked. "Pardon me?"

  "I needed to know if you blamed Nadia or not; if you resented her for your injuries. You don't. It's in the way you speak and the words you use. Firstly: thank you. There are many people who would hold a grudge over something like that and I have to admit there's sufficient reason for why they would. Second: I apologize for treating you coldly up to now, I just had to know where you stood and I'm satisfied now."

  "Oh," was about all Thomas could muster while he wrapped his mind around this. "Then... that's all right. I think?"

  Mr. Lawson smiled apologetically to the others at the table, now. "Sorry about that, Dear, Sweet-Pea. I know you don't like that sort of thing at the table and neither do I."

  Nadia smiled hesitantly. "So... that's it? We're good?"

  Her father took the first bite into his supper since sitting down, looking thoughtful as he chewed, then swallowed. "Not yet. We'll be retiring to the living room to discuss the matter after dinner."

  Nadia sighed, sinking deeper into her chair. This was going to be a long evening.