Chapter Text
August 2007
Loneliness remained Vanessa’s most enduring intimate lover. Familiarity sparked in its cold embrace and its poisoned thoughts. She wrapped it around herself like an old coat.
This solitary existence of the Quiet Box? It was old news to her.
However, it was true that in terms of disorientation, the Quiet Box compromised a different beast entirely. In a way, it felt like a single second in between being shoved in and being pulled out. Instantaneous once she had melted into the trance.
Unfortunately, this instaneousity of the Quiet Box also meant her headspace remained the same. Her boiling blood of betrayal, her biting anger, and her terror at being shoved inside all bubbled at the forefront of her mind. Of course, moments after coming into such a volatile headspace once again, Vanessa pushed all her emotions to the side and zeroed in on a single goal—negotiating an escape.
Upon being wrenched out of said Quiet Box, her immediate view included Stan, Ruth, Dale, Tanu, and Seth. Based on the fact that Stan and Ruth were still kicking and Seth still hadn’t grown higher than a solid 5’6, Vanessa assumed that not much time had passed. Of course, the things to which you already knew the answers to were the best questions to ask of a captor.
Vanessa stepped out and extended her hands to Tanu’s outstretched handcuffs. A bit like a dog offering the scruff of its neck, but whatever. Vanessa had descended lower before. “How long has it been?”
Stan inadvertently shined his flashlight in her eyes as he spoke. “Six weeks.”
Huh. Maybe she would live six weeks longer now. Well, on the slim chance that she would die of old age and her bones would turn brittle before they broke. Vanessa cracked her neck. That felt good. Now, on to business. “Where are my animals?”
“We released some,” Stan said. “Others we gave away to those capable of caring for them.”
Vanessa nodded. Well, she would lose her security deposit to Torina, but oh well. She suspected the viviblix hadn’t expected a return, anyway.
Surveying the bedraggled party, a smirk migrated to Vanessa’s face. Well, well. It had only taken six weeks for them to come crawling back to her. “Let me guess. Kendra is no longer here, and some disaster is transpiring at Fablehaven.”
More mirth bubbled as Stan and Ruth exchanged a glance. Ah, so she was right. If only they hadn’t shoved their single most helpful fount of knowledge in a magical closet, maybe they wouldn’t have found themselves in this situation. Figures.
Ruth narrowed her eyes. “How did you know?”
That was almost a laughable question. She had spent an entire year examining the Sphinx as one of her prime suspects for the Captain of the Knights, and half of that had descended to a more intimate level. Before that, she followed his orders for years in the Society. There were patterns. Successful patterns.
There might not be anyone in the world she knew better. Except, of course, maybe Warren. But that was doubtful.
Vanessa continued her stretching. If they were going to shove her back in after this little rendezvous, she would loosen up her muscles while she could. And if she needed to run, she would be warmed up. “Certain precautions the Sphinx takes are predictable once you understand how he operates. It’s the same way I anticipated that he was going to backstab me and lock me away in that miserable box.”
“How did you predict this?” Stan asked.
Vanessa reached to her toes and felt the pull in her hamstrings. “You released me from the box, and you all look serious, so obviously there has been trouble. Consider the circumstances. The Sphinx cannot afford to let his identity as the leader of the Society of the Evening Star be discovered. Even without the note I left, there were enough clues to what he was doing that you might have eventually become suspicious. He successfully acquired the artifact and freed the previous occupant of the Quiet Box. He had no more use for this preserve. Therefore, his next move would probably be to set some plan in motion to destroy Fablehaven and all of you with it—except Kendra, who he suspects may still be useful. I’m sure he created an excuse to get her away from here just in time. You’re all in tremendous danger. You see, when the Sphinx commits a crime, he disposes of all the evidence. Then, to be safe, he burns down the neighborhood.” She twisted her torso and felt her spine loosen. “I can’t tell you how nice it feels to stretch.”
“Can you guess how he is trying to destroy Fablehaven?” Stan asked.
Short answer, no. She arched her eyebrow. “Some of the Sphinx’s strategies are predictable. His methods are not. But whatever he has set in motion will probably be impossible to stop. Fablehaven is doomed. I expect I would be safer if you just put me back in the Quiet Box.”
“Don’t worry, Vanessa,” Ruth said. “We will.”
Vanessa bit her tongue and breathed out through her nose. Insulting elderly women was an activity for after she secured her freedom.
The conversation continued in a similar circular fashion. At the end of their talk, she was stuffed back into the Quiet Box. She told herself she had next time to get out.
But, next time, she failed, too. This cycle simply happened again and again. They kept pulling her out to poke and prod and then would shelve her once she proved unfruitful in the development of their little plague.
Oh well. It seemed that no matter how hard she fought, Vanessa would always find herself back in a cage.
Maybe it was destiny—a really shitty destiny.
One particular time, however, her interrogator broke the cycle and offered novelty to the usual game of cat and mouse. This was exciting.
When she opened her eyes, a dead man filled her vision. It was Patton Burgess in the flesh. He looked exactly like his old portraits. But how? How could he have traveled to the future?
What could have offered him that power?
In seconds, knowledge sobered Vanessa. They had found another artifact—the one rumored to control time.
There were two artifacts in play, now? The Sphinx must be rushing to the finish line. So unlike him. Had some long-awaited opportunity arisen? And had Fablehaven weathered their plague?
In fact, how much time had passed at all since her last conversation with Stan or Ruth? It could be centuries. Patton’s appearance was simply anachronistic.
Vanessa quirked an eyebrow. “I fear I may be out of the loop.”
Patton studied her and gestured to a seat next to him. It was only then that she noticed the incongruously colorful table and chairs in the dim dungeon hallway.
This was all he had brought with him. He must have assumed he wouldn’t need any handcuffs or coercion. He was right—there was no way she was going to pass up the opportunity to talk to a mythic legend.
“I'm curious, Vanessa,” Patton said as he sat down. “Of your opinions on lightness and darkness. As you know, the vanquished plague manipulated that dichotomy.”
Okay, so the plague was over. Recently. Thank god. She really did not want to spend the rest of the newborn 21st century in the Quiet Box.
Vanessa took a seat. It creaked underneath her. “I do.”
“And, as a narcoblix, you're a uniquely human magical creature. For all intents and purposes, you act like a human. You look like a human. Mayhaps you even love like a human. Now, do you feel an intrinsic pull to light or darkness or do you have the human capability for both?”
She laughed. The academic discourse would be appreciated if the true motive wasn't so thinly concealed.
“You're trying to decide if I can be trusted.” Vanessa crossed her legs and leaned back. “Did Stan send you down here?”
“No. I'm simply curious.”
The celebrity of it all stunned Vanessa and she had a hard time being contrary. She felt like she knew Patton so well from his writings. All his adventures, his love story. Everything culminated into the man in front of her. “I don't believe you.”
“Fine, you caught me. It wasn't just curiosity.” Patton grinned and Vanessa had a funny feeling she was the one caught instead—like a rodent entering a cage for a nibble of cheese. “I spoke with Warren Burgess—a distant relative of mine. Do you know him?”
Vanessa narrowed her eyes and kept her mouth shut in a firm line. This wasn't fair. The journals had outlined Patton’s charisma, intelligence, and sleight of hand. It had been fun to read about—not to experience.
“Ah,” Patton said with a quirk of his lips. “You do.”
Vanessa leaned forward, annoyance propelling her. “What do you want from me?”
“I want to know your motives. In the before and in the now. Why did you join the Society?”
“They saved me from a threat when I was a teenager.” Vanessa's mouth twisted. “Except I only found out recently they were also the threat.” She rolled her eyes. “I should have known.”
Patton hummed. “Why did you stay after you discovered such treachery?”
She didn't know how to answer his question. The only answer was that she had had nowhere else to go, but that wasn't sufficient because anyone could point out a number of places she could have squirreled away to with her fat paychecks.
Maybe, if the uncomfortable crawl on her skin as she neared this thought was any indication of its truthfulness, it was that the Society was all she could call home. Even when they had burned her, they remained her only semblance of family. Her other homes—her blue suburban nightmare and Warren—had been gone by that point.
Vanessa studied Patton’s irises. They gazed into her, and she could see her reflection in the brown. The truth was that he was just a normal human, and he probably was not going to release her. With that in mind, she didn't have to endure this interrogation. Instead, Patton could be her captive audience. She thought back to the burning questions she had had while she had been researching his journals. “How did you slay a dragon?”
“Who says I did?”
Vanessa sighed, leaned back, and stayed silent. He needed her far more than she needed him in this moment.
Patton broke into a grin. “Fine. How about we trade secrets? I'll answer your question, and you answer mine.”
She shrugged, while excitement bubbled behind her disinterested mask. “Well, did you?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Patton wagged a finger. “That's another question. It's my turn. How did you discover the Sphinx’s treachery?”
“I used my inherent abilities.”
“I'd prefer if your answers were not something I could guess.”
“There's no use getting more specific than that.”
Vanessa would be six feet in the ground before she would recount her illicit activities with the Sphinx or Dougan Fisk to Patton fucking Burgess of all people.
Patton waited patiently, but when she stayed silent, he grinned. “Fine. I slayed a dragon using my inherent charm.”
Vanessa’s mouth curled into a humorless smile. “This is almost worse than the monotony of the Quiet Box.”
“But not quite, yes? Most people prefer my conversation to infinite silence.”
“I would love to experience your conversation. Unfortunately, I’m trapped in an interrogation.”
Patton shrugged. “Sometimes, that's a natural consequence of trying to overthrow someone's home.”
Vanessa scoffed and let her gaze wander over the damp darkness of the dungeon. This horrible piece of real estate was her new home. It was a new low.
Patton rolled up his sleeves. “I used poison to slay a dragon. Built rapport with his feeders and soiled his food.”
Interesting. Vanessa sat forward and picked out the only detail of her investigation not bathed in shame. “The Sphinx has a favorite pen. Golden with suns decorating it. Very gilded. Very recognizable.”
“A pen was all it took?”
“It was the last puzzle piece.”
“Fascinating.” Patton twisted the end of his mustache. “Do you know more about the Sphinx that would be important to our cause?”
Vanessa grinned. “Undoubtedly.”
“Care to share?”
“Care to convince the Sorensons to spring me out of my cell?”
“If you are willing to provide me with something to convince them with.”
“There is nothing more I will do to prove my loyalty from this cage. I have already done enough as a prisoner.” Impatience coiled around Vanessa and sharpened her words. “The Sphinx is a traitor. They should find out soon enough and know that I gave them the correct information.”
Patton nodded and paused for a moment. He brought out a delicate, porcelain tea cup and a saucer from some compartment underneath the table. “Would you like some tea? It's black. Heard it was your favorite.”
Vanessa stared at the cup he pushed towards her and bit her tongue. Only one person knew that.
In all her interrogations interrupting her time in the Quiet Box, Warren had never been present. Now, he told Patton things about her to mess with her? Anger rose in her throat like vicious oil. She missed him so sharply, and the knife only deepened with these little perceived betrayals. She wanted to rake her nails down his back and kiss him, and she wanted to yell and scream too. She wanted hugs and held hands and she wanted a boxing match.
Did she deserve any of that? No, and she knew so just as well.
But, that didn't stop the vicious, visceral wanting.
When Vanessa didn't move to take it, Patton sighed. “It isn't what you think. I’m not being malicious. I asked around for anyone who knew you more than just at Fablehaven. Tanu led me to Warren. He only told me a few of your favorites and spare details of your past.”
Vanessa nodded jerkily. If Warren would come visit her himself, maybe then they could have it out. He could scream, she could scream, and dislodge all the ill will and desire clogging her throat.
“But, my suspicions are correct, yes?”
Vanessa lifted her head. “What suspicions?”
“You're not just an operative who switched sides for a simple ideological reason. There was more at stake.”
Vanessa realized his implications in the raise of his eyebrow. Laughter bubbled out of Vanessa and she clutched her stomach. Her natural aversion to emotion steamrolled over this touchy-feely approach. “I don't know if the Society was different in your era, but Society agents don't see more at stake than the mission.”
“But, you're not a Society agent anymore, no?”
Vanessa sobered and pursed her lips. “No.”
“In fact, you were an undercover Knight for some time. How was that?”
“Fun until I flew too close to the sun,” Vanessa said. She finally took the tea and sipped it. Trace, unique spices melted on her tongue, and a lump grew in her throat. It was perfect. Warren hadn’t just told Patton her favorite, he had to have made it.
Patton pulled a notepad out of his breast pocket and squiggled something down. He replaced it and looked back at Vanessa. “Did you know Lena?”
Vanessa straightened without thinking of her reaction. “Did? Has something happened?”
He cast his eyes down.
She blinked and slumped back into her chair. Oh. Lena Burgess was dead. “No. I didn’t know her. Not very well.”
Patton hummed. “She talks a lot about the morality of light and dark creatures. I like to think I get quite close to thinking how she does. But, blixes have always been an unusual category of creatures for the distinction between light and dark. Most classify blixes as inherently dark creatures. But, I never really thought that was true. There is a very human agency in blixes, I believe.” He tilted his head at her in expectation.
“My mother went to church every Sunday.” Imperceptibly, Vanessa winced after the admission. If she was going to defend the morality of blixes, her mother was a horrible option to lead with. She cleared her throat. “I think if you scanned the brain of a blix and a human, that it would look mostly the same. I think we’re the same.”
Patton hummed and fidgeted with his watch. Maybe he had limited time. Vanessa blinked the wetness out of her eyes. She had condescended to give her true thoughts to him for that question out of respect for Lena. While it was true that Vanessa and Lena were not close at all, there was a certain kinship that Vanessa had felt. Lena had been a magical creature and still was even after her fall—to an extent. Moreover, she had fallen in love with a human.
The Sorensons loved Lena—had loved—despite her actions as a naiad which they excused as beyond her control. Vanessa wished she could claim that defense. She wished she could truly say all her bad things were because of some uncontrollable impulse in her nature. But, that wasn’t true and she knew it. When blixes did bad things it was for the same reasons that humans did so—pressure, poverty, fear, and overwhelming emotion.
Patton cleared his throat, something suspiciously wet. He blinked and leaned forward on his elbows. The interrogation began again. “Why do you think Fablehaven was your downfall?”
“Probably my reluctance to kill children,” she deadpanned.
The empathy vacated Patton’s face and he twisted the end of his mustache in thought. “Do you think, if you returned to the Sphinx with a significant accomplishment, say an artifact, he would welcome you back?”
“No. He would pretend to, take the valuable object, and then kill me. Besides my sin of knowing too much, he must suspect that I've leaked his secret as well. The Sphinx hates when his playing field is manipulated by others,” Vanessa outlined. “He wants me dead.”
“And you're certain?”
“Positive.”
A patient man, but not one without a keen desire for revenge. Vanessa knew how much it pained the Sphinx to be outsmarted and undermined. She remembered his whispered comments under the darkness of night about his unspecified job. His complaints of rogue employees and the like. He hated what she had done, no doubt.
“I'm curious. How did the Sphinx find out your knowledge?”
“I made a mistake.”
“How?”
“Terror. Learning the secret felt like gaining a ticking time bomb strapped to my chest.” Vanessa shook her head. “I knew, no matter how good I was as an operative, if he found out that I knew his secret, I would be dead. That was simply a loose end he could not tolerate. I was never so paranoid in my life, and because of it, I missed a crucial step that must've alerted him to my knowledge.”
This tidbit produced a lull in Patton’s wit, and Vanessa took the time to sip more of the tea. The sensation of taste was so novel to her after weeks of sense deprivation, but the taste itself was quite familiar. Sugar and honey brought quiet mornings in shitty hotels back to her mind, soft, teasing words, and the gravity of two stars that couldn't stop circling each other. It brought something she could never have again. Vanessa put down the tea—the taste had soured.
“You're a self-described opportunist,” Patton said. “If a better opportunity came along, would you ditch the Sorensons?”
“Sure. But, do you see a better opportunity? I sure don't. I'm black-balled from the Society and the Knights of Dawn. I'm a blown agent and a traitor for the other. The people that know me and my knowledge and my abilities want me dead.” Vanessa leaned back in her chair. Anger thrummed through her veins. “In contrast, I despise the Sphinx and the Society for discarding me despite my years of loyalty. I want nothing more than to see him fail. I don't care about the stupid demon prison. I never did. This is personal to me now, and my goal is to destroy him. This firmly aligns me with you guys.”
Patton twisted the end of his mustache in thought. Vanessa looked around, drinking in the visual stimuli that she had been so deprived of. She felt so tired. Her tongue had rusted and her claws had dulled. She had a dreadful premonition—that nothing she could do or say was ever going to get her out of this cage.
Patton stood and pushed his chair in. “Thank you for this conversation. If you may.” He gestured to the Quiet Box.
Just like she thought.
With a sigh and the countenance of a long-suffering martyr, she stepped into her personal coffin.
December 2008
Her next visitor proved to be just as unusual.
Despite his skinny, beaten body, it sure was Maddox Fisk. Renowned fairy trader, but more importantly Dougan’s little brother.
She narrowed her eyes. Way back in February, when Rio Branco had fallen, Vanessa had poked around through her vessels until she had gotten the debrief on the preserve. She knew, for a fact, that Maddox Fisk had been caught and imprisoned after only a couple of days on his mission.
Could something have happened that had released Society prisoners?
Before Vanessa could ask a single question, he held up a hand. “I'm a stingbulb sent by the Sphinx. We have knowledge of a secret room in the Hall of Dread, and I need your help to get to it and overthrow Fablehaven. The Sphinx apologizes for his deception and pretending to leave you in the Quiet Box. He was only biding his time for this opportunity…”
The stingbulb continued an entire speech explaining that Vanessa’s incarceration had always been intended to be short and whatnot. The mere fact that the Sphinx had issued this entire speech was indicative that he believed Vanessa maybe wouldn’t buy it.
He was right.
If her years of sacrifices and quite literally reigning as one of the top Society field operatives had not insulated her from being cast away, there was no guarantee her return would be long either. The Sphinx had lost her loyalty, and she had abandoned the cause.
If 18-year-old Vanessa could see her now, she would be flabbergasted. She wouldn't have even conceived of such a deceitful Society.
But, ten years was a long time.
At the end of the speech, Vanessa smiled. “It's about time.”
Then, she lurched forward, grabbed his arms, and pushed him against the nearest wall. With one hand, she squeezed both of his bony, malnourished wrists together above his head, and with her other arm, she pressed into his windpipe. “Give me everything you have.”
He choked on his words, and Vanessa eased a little bit. He managed to eke out a single phrase. “Dungeon key.”
“Where?” she asked.
She let him wiggle one of his arms free and pull a gold key on a chain out of his pocket. Vanessa.
“We can work together,” he pled.
“Sure. Where is the Sphinx? Where were you grown?”
“I don't know, I swear,” Maddox blubbered, tears pricking his eyes. “They told me nothing except that you would help me get into the Hall of Dread and that we would find information that would help the Society overthrow Fablehaven.”
Vanessa surveyed his form and nodded in understanding. “So you have nothing.”
“No!” Maddox said.
She lurched forward, grabbed his bony shoulders, and bit his neck. Like a marionette with his strings cut, he collapsed to the ground. She wiped her mouth. He tasted horrible.
Vanessa stepped over his body and took a second to stretch. She swung the key chain in a circle as she walked down the hallways to the dungeon door.
It was time to finally gain a bit of ground with the Sorensons.
She would not be going back in that box.
Her plan worked. The sting bulb went into the Quiet Box and she upgraded to a cell. It became cozy over the next week.
The Sorensons allowed her some details of their situation. Kendra had been presumed dead, but as Vanessa instinctively believed and soon proved, the Sphinx would have never killed such a resource. She had simply been kidnapped.
(Vanessa had never been truly worried about Kendra’s health, because she knew that Torina would never harm a young girl—especially one as valuable as Kendra. But, she knew how terrified Kendra must have felt, alone and far from her family. That had been what spurred her to Kendra’s rescue faster.)
To remedy such a situation while simultaneously paying back her debt to Fablehaven, Vanessa let Gloria Larsen know that her granddaughter was being held by Torina.
While Gloria had been incredibly displeased to discover that Vanessa knew her granddaughter, she had still been grateful for the knowledge that Kendra was being held by Torina.
And, Vanessa was grateful that there was such a simple solution. Gloria could easily weasel her way into Torina’s house considering her alias, Clara Taylor, occupied a position on the Sphinx’s inner circle.
Of course, she only utilized such a powerful contact sparingly as Gloria Larsen remained her biggest secret. She went on a Knights mission with Gloria once—it was not good. She could be a crabby old lady. But, she never forgot the sound of her grating voice which proved useful when Vanessa recognized it at a Society meeting. Then, the plot thickened when Vanessa had found a dusty old VHS tape with home videos of Gloria, a pudgy toddler Kendra, and a newborn Seth hidden inside the big house’s deep storage closets while she had been searching for Patton’s journals. Talk about a jackpot!
The Sorensons didn’t know all of that, of course. That wouldn’t be prudent. The secret had to be kept. Nevertheless, her mysterious, yet dazzling assistance had still bought her a very nice cell.
There were beanbags and a vanity. A radio station which was tuned to the alternative station most hours. Most importantly, Mendigo stood like a nice, decorative statue outside the bars.
Unfortunately, despite all the sweet upgrades, the worst part of her prison sentence continued—the interrogations.
“Like you would know,” Warren scoffed, his eyes rolling.
It was safe to say that Warren and Tanu’s interrogation had derailed. After the shock of seeing her old lover and newish friend/enemy had worn off, annoyance had quickly replaced it.
Mere minutes into an infuriatingly circular discussion of loyalty, veiled comments and jabs had added up until the chemistry between Warren and Vanessa had become volatile.
On the upside, she felt like she was winning whatever they were doing. Over the past thirty minutes, Warren’s hair had become a mess from his running, frustrated hands—that had to count as a victory.
“I would,” Vanessa fired back. “Spring of 2004 sound familiar?”
Warren raised his eyebrow in warning. Oh, was that too specific?
Oops.
She had had enough of being poked and prodded like she hadn’t already bared herself to him. How much more of her loyalty could be tested? She was tired, so tired of being trapped in a cage. Anger coursed through her veins.
Irritation twitched in Warren’s jaw. “I don't know if you've realized, but we're not alone.”
“Oh, I'm certain Tanu expects enough,” Vanessa snapped.
The man in question stood stoically and further from her cell than Warren, who was currently dragging his hands down his face. “You’re infuriating,” Warren said.
Vanessa laughed and lounged in her beanbag chair. She could feel the sharpness of her tongue and relished in wielding it like a knife. “Tanu, let me fill you in. Warren and I were mission partners in the Knights for about, what? Three years?”
“That’s a fun term—mission partners.” Warren wrinkled his forehead. “Is that what you call stabbing me in the back as soon as it benefited you?”
“I’m sorry, okay?” Vanessa threw up her hands. This was barely relevant to their current conversation. Like only, 80% relevant. Honestly—kind of rude to keep bringing it up. “How many times do I have to apologize?”
Warren’s eyebrow quirked up, and for a moment, Vanessa saw the Burgess resemblance to Patton. “I believe that may be your first.”
The tight anger in her throat broke as she stifled a surprised laugh. “Oh.”
Tanu took the stunned silence to spread his hands placatingly. For a man caught between two volatile people with a long history, he was surprisingly calm. “How would you feel about ingesting a truth serum?”
Vanessa straightened and the hair on the back of her neck prickled like a porcupine. Cold fear curdled in her. “Absolutely not.”
“Come on, Vanessa,” Warren said. He brushed his fingers over his knuckles. A nervous habit. “You understand how fraught our trust is in you.”
Adrenaline flooded her body and she hid her trembling hands behind her. She shook her head again. Her mind remained hers and hers alone. They could cage her in the Quiet Box or the dungeon, but they couldn’t extract her mind. No. That was unfathomable.
“Consider it.” Warren locked eyes with Vanessa. “Consider the impossible task we have of convincing ourselves and others to trust you if we only go on your word.”
“I've already helped you with finding Kendra, and I exposed Maddox,” Vanessa protested. “Not even to mention the massive secret of the Sphinx I revealed.”
“You're right.” Warren sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. He looked back at her, a small pleading smile in the corner of his lips. “But, we need more.”
Vanessa stiffened. It had been many years since they had last fit together like puzzle pieces. But in this fleeting moment, Vanessa felt like she had found their frequency again. She heard his unspoken words.
He was asking her to trust him.
“Fine,” Vanessa capitulated. She leaned back in the beanbag and steadied her voice to prevent any embarrassing revelations on her next words. “But only with you. Alone.”
It was a foolish thing to think considering their fraught relationship at the moment, but Vanessa still believed in Warren’s kindness. That he wouldn't be cruel to her in her most vulnerable state. Was that naïve? Most certainly. Vanessa knew it was so. But, Warren had always made her feel naïve.
Tanu held up a hand. “Now, Vanessa, our trust doesn't stretch nearly that—”
“Okay,” Warren interrupted. He turned to Tanu and opened his hand. “Could I have the potion?”
Tanu lowered his voice. “Warren. You can't expect me to leave you with her alone.”
Warren squeezed Tanu’s shoulder. “Please?”
After a tense stand-off where Vanessa avoided Tanu’s targeted glance, the potion master capitulated and deposited a small, clear vial into Warren's hand. He pointed at Vanessa. “All in one gulp. Like a shot.”
She nodded her assent.
Once Tanu left the area, Warren unlocked her cell and entered her cage. He collapsed in the bean bag to her left.
With him up close, Vanessa could spy the slightly off-color patch on Warren’s jeans —a mending of an injury procured on their mission to a Tanzanian dragon sanctuary. She had bought a sewing kit from a convenience store and fixed it up while he had been unconscious. It had been just like sewing wound stitches which she had done that morning on his leg.
After, with her own alarm bells ringing at her actions, she had told herself she would have done the same for anyone. That hadn’t been true.
Vanessa pushed those thoughts to the side and refocused. It was just hard to stop getting sucked into the past. There were simply too many damn memories tying them together.
Vanessa raised her eyebrow. “You're quick to enter the cell of someone you say you can’t trust.”
Warren shrugged, hiding a small smile, and handed her the vial. “Bottoms up.”
She uncapped it and threw the liquid back. It was the most carbonated drink she'd ever had. Relentless bubbles tickled her throat. She blinked in surprise.
Warren stared at her intensely. Warm shades of brown burst from his pupil and melted into the dazzling emerald edges like a brackish river meeting the deep ocean.
They were so beautiful.
He chuckled. “Thank you.”
Vanessa clamped a hand over her mouth. Had she said that out loud? Oh no. What was going on? All her thoughts bubbled up her throat and threatened to break the barrier she usually enforced through her tight hand. She could feel her throat spasming with her thoughts.
Nevertheless, like all magic, there had to be a skill for it. Vanessa concentrated on one single thought and removed her hand from her mouth. “This is horrible.” Panic threaded her voice.
Warren shrugged. “It’s necessary. Do you hate the Sphinx?”
“Yes,” Vanessa said quickly. “I hope for his death to be painful and lonely.”
Shock raised her own eyebrows. She had never experienced such an instantaneous transition of thoughts to words. Her carefully crafted filters had vanished. Is this how everyone lived? How terrifying.
Warren laughed harder, tears peeking out the corners of his eyes, hands clutched around his stomach.
“You should've gotten a dose too,” Vanessa said. “And then we can see how you'd like it. I wonder what you’d say. Maybe—” Vanessa clamped a hand over her mouth once she realized she couldn't halt the train of thought purely mentally. The muffled words dampened her shirt sleeve. Shame crawled over her skin.
“I don't need a drug to speak my mind,” Warren replied teasingly. “Now, are you still loyal to the Society?”
“No,” Vanessa said. “I really haven't been since they—” She coughed and bit her tongue. “Wow, do you know how much this potion fucking sucks?”
Warren’s eyes shined with mirth. “I can imagine.”
The casualness of the beanbags, of their banter, of the way he laughed at her with his eyes, of the imagined affection, of his bouncing, restless knee, of his eyes, of—oh God, how his eyes—
“I haven't seen you look this way in years,” Vanessa thought and said, instantaneously.
Of course, instantaneously.
Because if there had been a single sliver of a second in between her mind and her mouth, Vanessa would have put a stop to the words immediately. But, she had been distracted by the smile wrinkles indented around his eyes. This joy, this laughter? Even if it was at her expense, it was so close to the old Warren that she ached for more.
But, of course upon her words, the familiar, cozy laughter left and the (even more familiar, now) silence fell. With a throat-clearing cough, Warren returned to his standard line of questioning. His finger itched behind his ear and he readjusted his uncomfortable position. “So, in regards to your motives as an operative of the Society…”
And with shame oozing down her spine, Vanessa returned to answering.
Mendigo stood watching her at all hours of the day. It sent unnerving chills down her neck from the moment she woke up to the moment she fell asleep. His lifeless eyes always seemed to be trained on her without even his head moving.
But, one day, he disappeared. One could assume that it was related to the fact that Warren, Tanu, and Kendra had left on a mission somewhere that was too secret for her to know.
Vanessa’s informational drought almost felt like that two-year period when she had absolutely no knowledge of Warren’s whereabouts. That same mix of dread and anxiety rose in her now as it did then. But, back then, she had had missions to distract her. Now, she had exactly nothing adrenaline-fueled enough to take her mind off Warren.
In fact, everything she did dripped with disgusting domesticity and boredom. But, what else could she do?
For hours, Vanessa lounged on her bed and flipped through the radio channels. Voices sparked through and she flipped through fashion magazines as two commentators argued on the performance of Tom Brady in the Patriots vs. Giants game. Spoiler alert, he broke the record for most touchdowns in a season. Vanessa didn’t really care. She was more of an Eagles fan.
After that riveting entertainment, she rubbed off her nail polish with isopropyl alcohol and repainted her nails with the darkest black she had. It matched her hair. Next, she rifled through the various gifts that had been dropped off at her cell, found her makeup bag, and consumed the next thirty minutes applying a glamorous full face. Then, she curled her hair in the most meticulous process full of pins and careful gel that she normally would never have the time for.
But even primping herself up to the likes of Marilyn Monroe became boring.
Instead, she started a new hobby—paper machê—and the exciting part about it was that it was going to be self-taught. Unfortunately, this meant that all her creations ended up more like crumpled balls than like swans.
When even that became boring, she laid on her cot and ran through her vessels. All were still connected which was good for her victims as it meant they were still alive. But, on her third run-through, a red flag popped up. Suddenly, Tanu and Seth fell asleep at the exact same time. Which was weird because Seth should be at home…but of course—he must've snuck on to whatever mission Tanu, Kendra, and Warren were on.
And they must've just encountered danger.
Adrenaline flooded her and excitement sparked at her fingertips. Finally! Thank God. She was actually going to go crazy if she couldn't spend her energy.
Considering they were most likely in danger, Vanessa chose Tanu to become her vessel. Now, while they had prohibited her from controlling any of them, this was clearly an emergency. She overrode the declaration.
As soon as full control washed over Vanessa, a putrid smell assaulted her senses. It was sour and gross. Next, through half-closed eyes, she surveyed the scene around her.
To her right laid Dougan, completely passed out on the floor. How odd. Through the sliver of her closed eye, she perceived a hulking mass heading toward her and a fine mist coating the air. At first, she thought it was just a film on Tabu’s eyes, but she blinked and the mist persisted.
As she continued to take in visual stimuli, the familiar tingle of magical fear slid over her brain and wiggled into the crevices. Her heartbeat sped up and her thoughts scrambled. But not enough that she lost her grasp on her mind.
The massive form solidified into a gray dragon, bared teeth shining in the fog. Not like an aggressive face, but the face of a dog trying to sniff something. Next to her laid a sword and Vanessa slowly wrapped her hands around the mantle.
The dragon sniffed Dougan’s head and swung over to Vanessa. As soon as he lowered to Tanu’s face, she sat up and sliced the sword through the neck of the dragon. It cut halfway in, and she shot to her feet, pulling it out and cutting the other way.
Blood spurted out of the two cuts, and the dragon roared, sluggishly returning to a cave. The magical fear diminished completely.
Riding the high of her victory, she surveyed the dismal scene. It seemed all members of the party were knocked out. She identified Kendra and Seth (concerning), Dougan (hopefully he wouldn’t wake up soon–that would be awkward), and Trask (annoyingly the best field operative the Knights had). There were also a few others she didn’t recognize. None of them were Warren.
Vanessa traced the steps of the elderly dragon and found him lying on the floor of his cave. A weak movement of the chest betrayed a hint of liveliness. She swung the sword like an executioner and watched as the head rolled away. Gray blood poured out of the dragon’s neck. It slicked her boots.
She heaved with exertion and looked at her hands. They were Tanu’s of course, but for all intents and purposes, she had just slayed a dragon.
Vanessa Santoro—traitor, spy, prisoner. Dragon slayer.
To kill invoked immense power. Anyone who said it wasn’t exciting in some way was lying. Killing rushed through the bloodstream, filling it with the adrenaline of a bygone era of stone spears and wooly mammoths. The divine power of life and death in the hands of one woman.
To kill the pinnacle of all magic? The rush intoxicated her.
But to save her own prison masters? Less exciting. But this was still a step toward freedom.
Vanessa returned to the group, picked up Kendra bridal-style, and walked farther into the immense lair until the mist dissipated.
She set the girl down gently and sat down herself to rifle through Tanu’s potion bag. She spotted the notorious truth serum but passed by it and smelled other potions until she found the smelling salts she needed. After twenty minutes of waving them under Kendra’s nose, she finally came to.
Through a conversation with her, Vanessa came to know that they were in a Dragon Temple which was absolutely insane, but the even more insane part was that Vanessa wished she could stay.
Kendra suggested that Vanessa use the knapsack to retrieve the rest of the party, and as soon as Vanessa spotted it on her way back to the group, she poked her head in.
Her heart dropped to her throat.
There was a small storage looking room with a ladder to the mouth of the knapsack. And at the bottom of the ladder, Warren laid bloody and crumpled.
Fear quickened her steps and she climbed down the ladder, careful to step over his body at the last rung. She turned him over on his back. Deep, dried bloody wounds marred his chest, and his arm twisted at an awkward angle.
It was bad. Really bad.
She checked his pulse at his neck and his warm skin held a steady beat-beat-beat. His chest rose and fell consistently over the ten seconds she observed.
He had a pulse. He was breathing. He wasn't dying.
Vanessa sat back on her knees and breathed. She hadn’t experienced that kind of visceral fear in a while. She did not enjoy it. After a moment, she recalibrated her head space and reconsidered the situation.
Considering the old blood, the emerging bruising around his arms, and his location at the bottom of the stairs, he must've tried to scale them, was knocked out by the gas while en route, and fell.
Warren wouldn't be helpful if she woke him up considering his condition, and it probably would be better for his health if he stayed asleep.
She wiped the dirt away from his forehead and pressed a light kiss to his brow. His skin felt soft and familiar. Her lipstick imprinted a soft red sheen but his flushed skin hid any discoloration. They may not be what they had been ever again, but she still cared for him whether she liked it or not.
With a last pat to his shoulder, Vanessa scaled back up and collected the rest of the mission crew into the knapsack. She had a brief conversation with Kendra, set the girl up with smelling salts, and did the hardest thing yet that night: Vanessa relinquished control and trusted in other people’s ability to finish the mission successfully without her.
Truly—a first.
January 2008
It took a couple of days before Stan descended to talk to her. He stood stiffly in front of her cell with a frown. Goosebumps rose on his forearms, a testament to the cold. “I can hardly believe I am in the presence of a dragon slayer.”
Despite his cold demeanor, the statement preened her ego. She tried to not let her cockiness exude as she stood up and walked to the bars of her cozy, cozy cell. She had to remember he was the one with the power to let her out. “Is this about the Dragon Temple?”
Stan stayed stoic as he stroked his white stubble. “You were under strict orders to not inhabit any of our people.”
“Would you rather they all died? Tanu must have told you what the stakes had been.”
“He did. And no, I would rather the team stay alive.” Stan hesitated. “That is why I don’t want to punish you for your transgression. But, who knew what information you gathered in Tanu’s body? Or if you've inhabited anyone else while Mendigo was absent on the mission?”
“I can tell you that I only learned of the identities of the team members and that they were in a dragon temple. I can only assume what they were up to. As for your second question…” Vanessa shrugged. “Obviously not. But also I have no evidence for it.”
Stan nodded. “It’s really no matter if I believe you or not. My dilemma remains as such: Mendigo was destroyed in the mission and we are spread much too thin to place a guard at your cell.”
Chills spread across Vanessa. She really, really did not want to go back in the Quiet Box. She had been so good.
At Vanessa's aghast expression. Stan smiled humorlessly. “You understand. But, there is an opposing force. Simply, we need more manpower after our recent losses. I believe, even if certain others don't, that you've proved your loyalty—at least enough in our dire context.”
Vanessa straightened. “You're asking me to do what, exactly?”
“Use your powers for good. Inhabit every contact you can think of. Discover secrets for our benefit. Search for their fifth hidden preserve. Find the Translocator. Scrounge up any allies or clues to the Society’s next move with the artifacts.”
Hope unfurled in Vanessa, but it was stemmed by some of his earlier words. “What do you mean—recent losses?”
Stan grimaced. He fidgeted with the collar of his dress shirt and looked to the floor. As steady and slow as a saline drip, dread crept into Vanessa’s veins. “Navarog had disguised himself as a young teenager and proceeded on the mission. Arlin Santos has been outed as a traitor along with several others—Deridea Fount, Paul Ungar, and Harrison Erie so far. A dragon destroyed Mendigo.” Stan paused, his mouth flapping open uselessly. He looked to the floor. “Dougan Fisk—I believe you knew him from the Knights—was killed by Navarog. The inter-dimensional knapsack was burned to a crisp with Warren inside. As of now, there’s no way to reach him. Marla and Scott, my son and daughter-in-law, have been kidnapped by the Society.” Stan met Vanessa’s eyes again. “In short, we're crippled.”
Anguish crushed Vanessa, and she sat down in her chair. Warren? Warren was gone again. Dougan had died. Grief plowed through her body, leaving goosebumps and tremors in its wake. The despair dampened the air and her lungs struggled to pull oxygen from the sea.
Vanessa wrapped her arms around herself and felt the wood of the chair beneath her, the scratch of her clothes on her skin, and the tightness of her boots on her feet. She pulled herself back to reality.
“So,” Stan sighed,” are you still ready to commit after what you heard?”
It was true they were outnumbered. It was likely they would lose the war. But, Vanessa hadn't defected for the odds. Something had changed inside her. Warren had planted a seed in her that had bloomed with careful tending. Even without him here, her motives remained unchanged. Stronger, even.
She would destroy the Sphinx, once and for all. She would burn the Society to the ground. As much as she could, before her own flame was snuffed.
Her mission remained clear.
Vanessa stood, crossed to the bars of her cell, and shook her jailmaster’s hand.
“How soon can I begin?