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Epilogue
Coreen didn’t want to admit, but she was more than a little overwhelmed when she arrived at San Francisco International Airport. And not because she hadn’t seen a really big airport before. After all, Toronto Pearson International Airport – or YYZ, as it was affectionately called – was the largest and busiest airport in Canada, handling roughly fifty million passengers a year. But San Francisco International Airport served as a hub for several big airlines, was a major gateway to Europe, the Middle East and Asia… and the largest airport of the San Francisco Bay Area.
It was also said to be the second-busiest in California, right after LA International Airport, which Coreen could easily believe as she looked around at the International terminal. People of all shapes, colours and fashion senses were hurrying along corridors or standing in the queue at customs and immigration – it looked like an anthill, really. Her outfit, which usually earned curious (or disapproving) looks in the public, wasn’t even noticed in the crowd.
Since Air Canada operated from airports with US border preclearance, Coreen didn’t have to wait at customs and immigrations. She could exit the airport from the departure level, which was a blessing. Or would have been, had she known where to go from there.
She was trying to calculate how much it would cost her if she had to take a cab to her destination (the airport being well outside San Francisco proper), when a young man with boyish good looks, haunted eyes and a military bearing walked up to her and extended his hand.
“Miss Fennel, I presume? Miss Coreen Fennel?”
Since she was the only person in this busy human anthill wearing a Goth outfit and make-up, spotting her probably hadn’t been hard. She accepted the proffered hand.
“That would be me, yes. And you are…?” She trailed off, and the young man smiled.
“Oh, sorry. My name is Nick Boyle. I’m the chief of security of the Luna Foundation and I was sent to fetch you,” he flashed an ID card that marked him as an employee of the Luna Foundation indeed.
Coreen already knew that the Luna Foundation was merely a cover organization for the San Francisco Legacy House and let out a sigh of relief.
“Oh, thank you! I was seriously getting worried that I might not have enough cash on me for the cab fare.”
The young man laughed. “No need for that. We take care of our own.”
He led Coreen to the car park and steered her towards a black jeep. Coreen, who had hoped for a limousine, was a bit disappointed, but the company more than made up for the unspectacular transport. Whatever Nick Boyle was (or had been), whatever he might have seen (and his eyes revealed that much of it had been traumatising), he was a personable young man with a quirky sense of humour. Coreen liked him immediately, and soon they were chatting amiably, as if they had been old friends.
That made the long way – which included taking the ferry from the mainland to Angel Island – less tedious, and Coreen was almost surprised when Nick finally announced that they have arrived. Her curiosity piqued, she eagerly peeped through the car window… and her jaw literally dropped as the Legacy House came into view at last.
Admittedly, calling it simply a house would have been the understatement of the century. It was a manor, at the very least – or rather a castle, taken from a fairy tale.
Or from one of Henry’s graphic novels.
Nick had clearly gauged her reaction because he was now grinning in satisfaction as he drove up to the front gate. Somebody had to be watching the entrance, as the gate opened automatically at their approach, letting them through without Nick having to slow down. He pulled up the car to what seemed to be a parking lot and lifted Coreen’s suitcases out of the booth.
“Let’s go,” he said.
But Coreen was unable to move from the spot; she was too busy gaping in awe. If the House was impressive from the distance, it was nothing short breath-taking from up close. There clearly had been some serious renovations lately, but the old structure and the new additions were blending together perfectly, without one taking over the other.
“It is amazing,” she muttered. “I see why Doctor Sagara thought it would match my style.”
Nick took in her outfit with a quick glance, as if he had just noticed aforementioned style for the first time – and grinned.
“Let’s hope you won’t shock Derek out of his mind,” he said. “Well, come with me. I’ll show you your rooms, and then you can meet the others.”
He led Coreen up multiple staircases and along several corridors, carrying her suitcases without visible effort all the time, until they reached what must have been a guest suite of some sort. It was twice as big as her flat in Toronto had been, and it consisted of a spacious living room with a separate working niche, a bedroom with a walk-in closet and an ensuite bathroom. There was even a small kitchenette on the other side of the working niche, just large enough for a sink and a coffee maker.
But the living area was the best in the whole thing. There was a huge window opposite the front door, offering a spectacular view at the entire San Francisco Bay, with its boats and lights.
It was fantastic.
“That was exactly what I thought when I saw the House for the first time,” Nick grinned, and Coreen blushed, realizing she’d spoken out her impression loudly. “Just wait ‘til you’ve seen the rest of it. Do you want to freshen up a bit first? The others are waiting in the library, but five minutes more won’t count.”
Coreen welcomed the chance of a quick cat wash, then reapplied her make-up and followed Nick to the library where the people with whom she was going to spend the next couple of years (or perhaps more) were waiting.
She only hoped she would make a good first impression.
~The End~
Soledad Cartwright @ 12. 06. 2022