Feargus

  For as long as I’d understood I could feel a romantic way for people, I’d known I could feel that way for both lads and lasses. And no, I’m not about to tell you that I slept with Sebastian Vonsinfonie. But That One Time in Delphia, it was a topic Vincent and I had some chats about. I'd had flirts with a few lads at Palisade, but nothing more serious, and after listening to me whinge about it, Vincent introduced me to a friend of his. We actually hit it off, saw each other when we could while I was in town, and one thing led to another. Of course, I hadn’t seen him since then, but that’s the way of things for Partisans.

  What’s important is: Vincent—Sebastian—and I had history, more than the part we played in helping his defector friends escape.

  After meeting at the front desk, we tucked into the first available rehearsal room. He’d been glamoured for the benefit of the others at the theatre, but I’d been able to see through it. He dropped it the minute we were alone.

  “You have no idea how fantastic it feels to see a friendly face, Feargus Finlay.”

  “The feeling’s mutual, mate, but you might want to sit down. There’s a lot we need to talk about, and I don’t have much time.”

  Vincent—Sebastian—gestured me over to the chairs by the vanities. We had a sit, and I dug into my bag for a minute. The scrap of paper said: Find VD=SV. I passed it over.

  I counted while he read, reread, and wrapped his head around the message for twenty-three seconds.

  “How?” he asked.

  “Here’s the thing, Lemon Meringue Pie, I should have had honeydew melon with my breakfast this morning. It would have been a refreshing treat to wash down the greasy bacon. For lunch, I was thinking of going to that fruit-drink place—you know the one.”

  “With the fruit-jugglers?”

  “Aye.”

  “Why are you telling me this? Are you hungry, and urgently?”

  All I had to do was keep trying to spill the beans, and for as long as I kept talking about actual beans and their ilk, he’d either think I’d lost my mind or something was seriously wrong with it. “Do you ever think about gravy laden turkey legs nestled in clouds of creamy mashed potatoes?”

  It took about six seconds, but Vincent—Sebastian—stood from his chair and moved toward me. Quickly, too quickly for a mere Delphi Partisan. But at this point, he knew I knew what he was. He took my chin in his hand, gently, and looked into my eyes.

  “Avis,” he said in an escaped breath. “Matilda, Delilah. Feargus Finlay, what have you gotten yourself into?”

  That was a great question. “Can you fix it? Everleigh said—”

  “You’ve seen my little gloom-flower? Is she all right?”

  “More than, but she misses you.”

  Sebastian returned to his chair, pulling it in closer toward me. He tugged up his pant legs, sitting with a wounded sigh. “I swore to myself I’d one day go back to Amalia, that I’d follow her there and ask her to come home, but I don’t think I can, Feargus Finlay.”

  “What if I told you Strawberry Rhubarb Pie is delicious with a dollop of meringue?”

  Sebastian shook his head. “She was always funny—Matilda. You wouldn’t know it, so quiet and stoic, but I can’t reverse this, I’m afraid.”

  Great. “Why not?”

  “To be more specific, I can restore what I see are hidden memories, but the delightful delicatessen you have in your head is another matter. You’ll need both Matilda and Avis.”

  “All right, it’d be great if you could do what you can, but we have to hurry. Rhian and Strauss are hot on my heels, and I’m trying to avoid them.”

  “What an odd thing to say.” Sebastian pulled his chair even closer in toward me, tugging up the sleeves of his sapphire blue jacket. He took a deep breath, wiggled his fingers, and closed his eyes. “How would you like it?”

  “All the way, mate.”

  “Very well. Here we go—”

  And all at once, I remembered everything, like it had always been there: Avis stopping me outside the Studio and inviting me in. The portrait of Sebastian in the salon. Avis asking me to find Zacharias, when she and Matilda left to get cookies, when Delilah asked me to find Sebastian, too. And then, on that uncomfortable long chair, we—

  Sebastian’s eyes widened, and so did mine, because how could I forget that?

  I remembered Delilah writing the note on the scrap, and her telling me to hide it in my underwear. She explained why it was important to find not only Zacharias, but also Sebastian, and I got her version of the Vonsinfonie story, which didn’t include Jakob. Then she wiped my memory so the others wouldn’t know we’d talked, and before leaving, Avis and Matilda had their way with my mind, too.

  “Zacharias,” Sebastian said. "Have you seen him?”

  “You could say that,” I said, because I still couldn’t.

  Sebastian ran a hand through his snow-white hair. “How is he?”

  “The Strawberry Rhubarb Pie’s a bit under-baked. Or maybe it’s over-baked. Can something be both over and under-baked?”

  “I haven’t eaten in a millennium, but I believe so.”

  Fun as that was to wonder about, I had to make the most of my time with Sebastian. “Rhian and Strauss are going to be fishing around, trying to get your attention with a grand scheme. I don’t know their plan, but I’d expect them to show up here eventually.”

  "Do they know about me? About the Anima?"

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  I shook my head. "And if you could avoid telling them anything directly, that'd be great."

  "What a peculiar visit we're having. I would love nothing more than to see them both, however. Why don’t they simply come by and say hello?”

  “Long story, but go with it. Tell them they’re geniuses, and their plan to smoke you out was brilliant, whatever. Make them feel good, because I sure feel terrible for messing with them.”

  “I only understand half of what you’re saying today, Feargus Finlay.”

  “Will you think about coming back to Amalia?”

  Sebastian picked up the scrap with the Find VD=SV message. I’d put a lot on the man. Not only had his secret identity been outed, but I’d been in the direct orbit of his family, including Zacharias. Especially Zacharias. We don’t need to rehash everything, but it was a minute, two minutes, two and a half minutes of humming and hawing (he had a lot to think about, to be fair) until we were interrupted.

  “You may rehearse in here,” a woman said from behind the door. “What say, four hours should be enough?”

  “Should be more than enough, thank you,” Strauss replied.

  Before my eyes, Sebastian Vonsinfonie disappeared and I—

  Well, I bolted for one of the costume chests in the corner of the room, and I climbed in as quickly and as quietly as possible, closing it at the same moment the door opened to mask the sound. Now curled up in a nest of scratchy fabric, I slowed my heart rate, slowed my breathing, and I listened.

  “You’ll play the role of Misses Delaciel,” Strauss said, “and I’ll play the role of her husband. And then perhaps we’ll finally consummate.”

  So, that’s not exactly what he said, but—

  “How am I supposed to read my lines if I can’t read my lines?”

  That’s my girl. Asking the real questions. And Strauss, like the class act he always was, replied, “We’ll work together.”

  Somewhere around that time, Rhian made her way over to one of the nearby costume chests. She started rummaging through it, and I was essentially convinced I was cooked. But the chest clicked shut, and she walked away.

  I really hoped their rehearsal wouldn’t take four hours.

  I knew I should have stopped to pee on the way.

  But it was during their play preparation, while Strauss wasn’t seasick and I wasn’t there (to their knowledge), that I understood how they were exactly right for each other. Strauss was a clever man, his great mind underutilized. My sister was a challenge. Everything that came out of her mouth was a thinly veiled kick in the arse. And as for her? Well, he was the challenger that refused to back down. He had an answer for everything, a steady presence, and the patience of an oak tree.

  “So, Strauss…”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it,” she said.

  “What have you been thinking about?”

  “I’ve been thinking about what I would do if I could choose.”

  I cringed. But then again, Rhian had learned to flirt from me, so what was I saying about myself? The room was silent for a bit, and oh, boy, were they about to kiss? It wouldn’t be the first time I’d be there for one of those. That One Time in Delphia, I was hiding in the cupboard right beside her when they kissed for the first time.

  But just as I was thinking about where Sebastian was hiding, the door burst open. I reckoned he must have sneaked out when they came in, gave them some time to have fun with their grand scheme, and chose that moment to make the entrance feel more natural.

  What a champion.

  “Rhian Sinclair! Of all the Strachan luck, it’s been too long,” he said.

  And then Sebastian Vonsinfonie, as Vincent Delestade, sat them down for a story. I won't retread the matter, but just to recap what you should already know: they asked all the right questions, and he told them about his time in Amalia under Palisade orders, which I still couldn’t reconcile at the time. We’d learn the story later, as you know: Vincent was his boyfriend, driven insane by the horrors in Amalia. He committed suicide when he found out who Sebastian really was, and Sebastian assumed his name later.

  The biggest takeaway was that Sebastian told them about the old schoolhouse-slash-tavern, the place I’d been using to get to Zacharias in the underground every night.

  Sebastian suggested they defect, they said no.

  Finally, things were wrapping up when Rhian asked, “What’d you find in the building?”

  “The truth.”

  No joke about that.

  “It was good seeing you again, Vinny.”

  "Likewise." A pause. “Now, my final words, Enforcer? Half-breed?”

  Another pause.

  “Live, at least for today, as if you had accepted my offer.”

  Footsteps, and the door closed behind Sebastian.

  All right, so, I’m going to be murdered in my sleep for this, but here goes. Over the course of my short life up to that point, I’d been tortured: physically, mentally, verbally. I’d been through stress tests, psychological simulations, and basically hell. But the next twenty one minutes and twenty two seconds were in a category all of their own.

  It was quiet for a while, and then there was some rustling, and then there was some smooching, and then:

  Oh, no, no, no, no.

  He didn’t mean now.

  He didn’t mean here.

  Why.

  Why right here.

  Why not get a hotel.

  Why not do it at the beach.

  Why.

  Why.

  My life.

  Oh, it’s happening now. Aw, they sound happy.

  But why is this happening now.

  This can’t be happening now.

  I shouldn’t listen, but—

  Stracha’s Steed, poor Rhian—oh he’s in. Good for them.

  Is Sebastian still outside the door?

  I hope he’s not outside the door.

  They deserve privacy.

  WHY WAS I CURSED WITH THIS EXCELLENT HEARING?

  No,

  No,

  No,

  No,

  No……….

  Maybe I could take a nap.

  Maybe I could eat my own face.

  Aye, I’ll just die.

  Right here in this chest.

  Oh, it’s over already. Stracha’s Steed, poor Rhian.

  But good for them, though. Oh, wait—

  Hold on—

  Are they—

  Again?

  Well, all right, then. I didn’t know you had it in you, mate.

  And did he seriously just say that?

  AND WHY AM I SO HAPPY HE SAID THAT?

  All right, all right—how did that little song go? The quiet holds, the quiet keeps, the sleep until sleep is thee? I AM THEE. SLEEP IS ME.

  Nope, didn’t work.

  This is my life now.

  And Rhian and Strauss must never, ever, ever know.

  ?

  Well, we know now.

  And we know where you live.

  ?

  Once Strauss and Rhian were finished, I couldn’t get out of that theatre fast enough. I had shopping to do, but no—I needed a bath, and a deep, restorative sleep. So, I got myself a room at the inn, woke up early the next morning, went on a shopping spree for the Tragers, bought Rhian a special birthday gift, and then we left the isles for Amalia that same afternoon.

  Aye, three post-coital days aboard an embark with Strauss and Rhian.

  It was dark and awkward.