The Lost Heir

by Allison Whitmore

  “Knotty and twisted about what?”

  She really wanted to know the answer, but someone much more agitating than Cleo Antonelli was in pursuit of them. Was it too late to bolt? Johnna Johnson. She appeared to be holding something rotten in her mouth. Oh, never mind. That was a smile. And what was in her hand? Little white cards. Invitations?

  “Uh… You know,” said Isabella, turning her body toward the elevators, “I’ve had a really bad day. I think I’m going to go up to my room.”

  “Still hate Johnna, don’t you?” Cleo laughed.

  “No.”

  “Well, she likes you.”

  Isabella’s burst of laughter startled a man with a walrus mustache into spitting his mashed potatoes all over his wife’s blouse, which promptly earned him a smack on the head. She vaguely remembered seeing the corpulent man before, when she was with Pythian, but she had no time to dwell on him right now. “Oh, sorry, sir, ma’am. So sorry. Anyway, Cleo, I-I gotta go.”

  Too late. Johnna Johnson bore down on them like a serpent sliding up to its prey before striking. She snatched Cleo into a hug and then Isabella, causing her to cough both from the fierceness of her squeeze and her body odor. Ew. Sweat and Chanel No. 5, obviously stolen from her mother. Her appendages dripped with jewelry that better belonged in a Turkish bazaar than on the arms and ears of a teenage girl from Westside Los Angeles.

  “Your brother needs to go somewhere with himself. I hate that little kid.”

  “I love your earrings,” said Cleo. “And he’s not a little kid. He’s my twin.”

  “He’s such a brat.” Cleo did not bother responding. They all knew it was true. Johnna turned to Isabella. ”Sorry it’s so last minute.” She extended the embossed, white-and-gold invitation.

  Queen at 15

  Happy Birthday, Johnna

  December 20

  4:00pm: Tea with Me (Ladies Only), The White Room

  6:00pm: The Queen’s Ball – The Hardball Hitters (Co-ed), The Velvet Ballroom

  The Foxworthy Hotel

  9400 Culver Hills Court Road

  Culver Hills, CA 90234

  RSVP by December 19

  310-555-8998

  Carol Anne or Johnna

  “Really, Johnna?” Isabella lifted her eyebrows.

  Johnna blinked several times, looking as innocent as a cat who’d clawed up the furniture. “Is something wrong?”

  “You had your last party here, too.”

  Johnna laughed, but it sounded more like a hiccup. “I like it here.”

  “Why didn’t I know about it?”

  Johnna shrugged. “You go to that St. Agnes’s place now. I would have told you myself, otherwise. Your granny knows.” Isabella folded her arms over her chest. “My mother is going over the details with her now in her office, in fact.” There was an awkward silence between the three of them. Then a bumbling sound came from a few tables over.

  “Excuse me. Sorry.” It was Xander Antonelli, sans camera and red in the face.

  “Hi, Izzy!”

  “Hey, Xander, how are you?”

  “Why does my brother get to call you Izzy and not get snapped at?” asked Cleo.

  “He’s nicer.” Isabella shrugged, turning to Xander. “I’m surprised your dad let you go. He looked pretty mad.”

  “Yeah, but it’s okay.” Xander labored to steady his breath and then wiped a bead of sweat from the bridge of his nose.

  “Ew,” remarked Johnna.

  “I have a camera on my phone.” Fully composed again, he pulled the sleek black cell phone from his pocket and started filming. “That’s right, Hollywood. I’m back.”

  Johnna held up her hand to block her face as Xander steadied the phone in her direction.

  “So, Isabella, will you come?” Johnna asked.

  Without being able to think of any other way out of answering, Isabella let out a vicious cough. ”Whoa,” she spurted out, bending at the waist and continuing her fit. Xander moved to pat her back.

  “You should go up to bed,” he said.

  “Yes.” She coughed again. “I will. Thanks.”

  And through the main elevator doors, she escaped without answering Johnna Johnson’s bothersome invitation. Isabella wasn’t going to bed, though she did feel unwell, but it was not the type of unwell one might imagine. This particular malady ate away at every nerve ending in her body. Isabella had a foreboding sense that something odd was going on. Why suddenly were Xander and Cleo Antonelli at the hotel after all this time? And Theophilus just showed back up? To do what? Fix the theater? And where was her Uncle Robert? Then there was the Pythian thing. Could that be connected?

  She headed to the ninth-floor suite where she lived with Nano and went to the den to call Lana.

  “Come home now!” Isabella complained through the webcam call.

  “Can’t,” Lana said, half frowning, half laughing at her friend.

  “Why not?”

  The somewhat fuzzy likeness of her best friend shrugged. “Life. Colorado is a little far so it couldn’t be right now. I get more presents here.”

  “Ha-ha. Ask your parents to send you back with your presents.”

  Lana sighed, chin in hand. “I have to spend Christmas with my dad. He just made his big announcement, and he’s never around. My mom’s almost half as bad. They’re both here at the same time.”

  “No one told them to be politicians. I still can’t believe your dad is running for Senate, but still!”

  “No matter what, I can’t leave Dot. She’s only eight.”

  “You’re too loyal of a sister for your own good.”

  “Yeah, well, I can’t believe Cleo and Xander are back. That’s crazy! Have they pranked you yet?”

  “No, I think Cleo’s grown out of that. She’s acting more like a wannabe diva. But Xander chased Johnna around with his camera. That was pretty funny.”

  Lana laughed. “Okay, I am sorry I missed that.

  Isabella frowned at her friend. “Something’s weird.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. It just is. And I have to do this show with these really annoying new kids, and Theophilus is in charge of it all. I really don’t want to do it.”

  “You’ll be fine. You’re always fine.”

  “Says you,” said Isabella.

  “Listen, I gotta get off, but I’ll call you later, ‘kay?”

  “’Kay. Love you!”

  Isabella shut off the video call and sighed. She really did miss her best friend. They’d met in the first grade and knew everything about each other, but most importantly, they hated all the same people. For some reason, that was extremely comforting.

  She picked up a Rubik's Cube and twisted it until she saw the six faces match in color. A moment later, sadness encased her.

  Yeah, she was great at puzzles, but what good did that do her?

  Isabella glanced at the clock. Of course. She was late for rehearsal. She wanted to ditch it, but she knew her grandmother would skin her and sell her hide to that man who sold leather coats in the dirt lot at the end of Culver Hills Road. She peeled herself from the chair and got ready to head down to the theater.

  Less than fifteen minutes later, Theophilus shifted his gaze between Isabella, Micah, and Seth as they sat in the theater for rehearsal. “Children, your performance is very important to this establishment and to the community at large. Yes. Brightwood Studios is sponsoring the event.” The boys had on Lakers warm-ups again, but this time they were yellow. Isabella was wearing an old T-shirt and gray sweatpants. ”Each of us has a role to play and a part to fulfill. With that being said, here is what I’ve planned for the event. Your names are beside each segment you will be a part of.”

  7:30pm: Welcome; DJ

  8:00pm: Band: Logan Blues

  9:00pm: Band: Green Ivy

  10:00pm: Band: Logan Blues

  11:00pm: DJ

  11:45pm: Finale—Logan Boys/Isabella

  11:55pm: Tribute Salute—Isabella<
br />
  11:59pm: Ball Drop/Countdown—Isabella

  “Why is there always something new to do?” Isabella complained. Her grandmother had had her helping with events since she’d turned eleven. But this was the first time she had to perform on her birthday. “And why on New Year’s Eve, of all times? If we absolutely have to add a holiday show this year, can’t we hold it a little sooner?”

  “It is kind of a letdown after Christmas,” Micah agreed.

  “For me, it’s worse!” Isabella stood up.

  “Uh, we’re the ones performing half the night,” said Seth.

  “It’s on my birthday,” she countered. “And something weird always happens to me the night of. Just like something weird is going on now. What is everyone doing here?” The thought had crossed her mind several times earlier, but she was so caught up in evading the nuisances as they arrived that she’d forgotten to actually ask one of them the truth of it all.

  “To whom are you referring, my dear?”

  “You, for one! And the Antonellis, for second. Something’s going on.”

  “Instincts are an asset, my dear. Yours especially, as your grandmother tells me.”

  Isabella sat back down and eyed him warily. “What do you mean ‘as my grandmother tells you’? Why would she tell you anything? She thinks I’m crazy, right? That I did something to my parents.”

  The moment the words were out of Isabella’s mouth, she regretted them. It was something she’d always worried about but never spoken aloud. She tried not even thinking it. But why had she lived and they hadn’t? Why had the fire stayed so far from her even though she was right in the middle of it? Isabella knew that her strange episodes at the end of the year, the episodes that started just one week after her parents died when she was eight-years-old, could be the reason.

  “She simply explained that you are sentient, my dear.”

  “Sentient?”

  “Yes. Sentient. Sensitive. Like many of us are. Using your awareness to understand your surroundings is a gift. Do not forget that,” he said and then began pacing as he was accustomed to.

  “I’ll do anything if you can get my grandmother to let me out of this show.” She recalled how hot she’d felt during her last blackout. What if she had one on stage? Her birthday was always the worst. And the days leading up to it were hardly better. It was as if she was coming out of her skin, like she was changing into something or someone else.

  Theophilus kept pacing, ignoring Isabella’s plea. “Culver Hills Heart Hospital. Renee Fox and Sinclair Worthy’s donation to Culver Hills and Los Angeles at large. The great screen legends loved each other so much that they merged their surnames into one. Isn’t that right, Isabella?”

  She nodded as he went on.

  “Renee Fox was profoundly successful at the myriad things she tried in her life.”

  Isabella smiled. She knew what Theophilus was trying to do, and it was working, despite her best efforts to keep up her guard. “Thanks, Theophilus. I wish I’d known her.”

  “So do I, my dear. Her favorite time was the Wintertide Festival.”

  “Wintertide Festival?” asked Isabella.

  “A celebration to end all celebrations. It was for her folk. Our folk,” he said, looking pointedly at each of them before strutting away again. “Then she’d return and have something small like the event we’re having on New Year’s Eve, dear.”

  “Small? You call having two hundred guests small?”

  “Compared to the Wintertide Festival, to be sure.”

  “What did you mean by ‘our folk’?” Seth looked at him with a puzzled expression.

  “Yes, our folk celebrate the holidays and magical sensations of joy and exuberance. Our community throws this celebration every year to relight the fires that keep each of our internal lights burning. It’s truly a magnificent time to be growing up in the world—this year’s celebration will be the biggest and brightest of them all! Of course, you may not get to partake in all of it as debuts.”

  “Why not?” Micah asked. “As what?”

  “Questions. Questions. Too many questions and not enough working. Isabella, are we on board with keeping your great-grandmother Renee’s legacy alive?”

  “I guess. Yes. I want to help, and I won’t complain. If I get to pick my own songs.” Isabella really didn't want to sing at all, but if she had to, she'd choose the music. She'd have less of a chance of humiliating herself by either forgetting the words or cracking her voice. And maybe she would be too focused on the music to have a black out. Yeah, sure.

  “Splendid.” As Theophilus pulled a smile from one ear to the next, a gentle old man strode into the theater.

  “Oh, you have guests. I’m sorry, Theophilus, but it’s vital that we speak immediately.” Robert Heel was an elderly man with silver-white hair and a warm, kind face. He smiled at the children who had certainly noticed his entrance.

  “Uncle Robert!” Micah, Seth, and Isabella said in unison.

  Isabella looked on with her eyebrows bunched together. “I still can’t believe Robert Heel is your uncle.”

  Turning toward her, Robert opened his arms, as if reaching out for a benevolent embrace. Isabella collapsed into his arms and grasped him tightly. “I’ve missed you very much, my darling.” Robert’s voice was deep and gravelly.

  Isabella looked back at the boys. Seth’s eyes were wide with shock, though Micah smiled a bit.

  “Do you two need a room?” Seth asked with a look of disgust in his eyes.

  Robert turned back toward the others. “I’ve been friends with the Foxworthy family for years, as you well know, boys. I hope you are well.” Seth’s resentment evaporated as he spoke. “I’ve come to see Theophilus briefly, but my next stop was to visit you and your father. I have something to show you both.”

  Seth and Micah stepped closer to see what Robert was pulling from his pocket. In his hand sat a small metallic box. Isabella looked on from behind the boys, but even she couldn’t figure out what it was. “Watch carefully.” Robert hovered his left hand over the box as it rested in the palm of his right. The box began to slowly lift into the air as a faint violet light glowed around it. Suddenly, a heart formed in the center of the now-rotating box and began gently pulsing.

  Micah started to laugh in amazement. “I think that heart might be for you, Seth. To give to Isabella.”

  Seth glared at his younger brother with furious anger. His eyes basically said shut up or die. “Grow up.”

  Isabella wasn’t amused, either. “That’s a neat little trick, Uncle Robert, but we are a little too old for magic.” Robert smiled at her but uttered no response.

  “So, Mr. Heel, what is it you need from me?” Theophilus interrupted. Sometimes he didn’t like being overshadowed by Robert, who was less odd and more grandfatherly that he was. Isabella felt badly for him for a moment.

  “Oh, I’m just looking for Catherine. Would you happen to know where she is?”

  “Hmm, I can’t say that I recall,” said Theophilus.

  “My grandmother didn’t tell me she was going anywhere.”

  Robert stepped closer to Theophilus and whispered softly into his ear. “I need to speak with you in private. Now. Catherine has been acting very odd lately. We need to talk.”

  Although he spoke quietly, Isabella overheard everything. Hmm, she thought. Maybe something really is going on. First the stuff with that Pythian kid, and now this. Isabella watched the two men as they silently headed toward the exit of the theater. “Where are you going?”

  “The three of you must connect on your own. Yes. Connect and decide what it is you will do for the finale. I am leaving it up to you. You may use the devices in the room upstairs, if you fancy special effects. I will be back in one hour.”

  And then, Theophilus was gone. Isabella looked back at the two boys. This was the first time she had ever been alone with them. She didn’t really even know them. Micah looked at his brother and then at the floor, and then his eyes went to the piano. />
  “Oh, no. That is mine,” Isabella said, striding over to her aunt’s old instrument and plopping herself down on the bench in front of it.

  “Don’t worry,” said Micah. “I’m stickin’ to my drums.”

  “What about you? What do you do?”

  Seth shrugged. ”You’re right. This is kinda dumb.”

  “It’s not dumb. It’s for a good cause,” said Isabella, surprising herself that she really meant it. What was the likelihood she’d have a blackout in the last fifteen minutes before midnight? Theophilus had gotten to her. Theophilus or maybe that purple thing their Uncle Robert had hypnotized her.

  “You’re weird. Earlier, you wanted to practically burn down the theater. Anyway, I told you, I’m bass,” he said, pointing to the case he’d brought along with him that day. “Is this where we’re doing the show? Are people going to be sitting in movie theater seats instead of partying?”

  “What were you expecting it to be? A rave?” asked Seth.

  “No. But I want people to dance to my music.”

  “Well, dry your eyes. It’s going to be in the Lily Field Ballroom.”

  “The what ballroom?”

  “It’s named after the movie my great-grandmother won an Academy Award for.”

  “Big whoop,” Seth said, rolling his eyes and then folding his arms.

  “She was a big whoop. You must not know anything.”

  “She was a rich snob. Just like you.”

  “For your information, she donated all the money she made on that movie to help build the hospital we are doing this benefit for.”

  “Oh.” Seth deflated.

  “So,” Micah said. He clapped his hands, mimicking a move Theophilus had made several times during rehearsal. “I think we should do a mix of jazz and trance.”

  “No way!” Seth and Isabella echoed in unison.

  “What about jazz and house?”

  “No!” Why was Seth agreeing with her? He was not supposed to be her comrade. She shifted in her seat.