Lost and Found (Scions of Sin Book 4)

by Taylor Holloway

  “Good morning,” I said.

  “It’s night here,” he replied dryly. “We’re literally twelve hours apart. You know, since the earth is a sphere?”

  “Well twelve hours is a convenient time gap to remember,” I said to him. “Plus, it’s just like when we were born.”

  Our poor, poor mother. And she never let us forget about her fourteen-hour labor, either. I was born first. I never let Nathan forget about that fact. He’d been late only once in his whole damn life, unlike me. I was chronically late. Except when I was born. Then I was early. Being on time was really not my thing.

  “Whatever. Look, that notebook you sent me? I got the translation back. There’s some weird shit in there.”

  “Weird shit?”

  “Yeah. I’ll send you everything in a minute, but I just wanted to give you a heads up. You weren’t kidding that the guy wrote everything down. And I do mean everything.”

  “What? Like his bowel movements? Nasty!” I really wasn’t certain that I needed to know that information about him.

  “Ok, not everything. But a lot of irrelevant stuff. He wrote down, for instance, his blood pressure and heart rate every day, three times a day. And the circumference of his waist, chest, and biceps. Three times a day, every day.”

  I shrugged, though obviously Nathan couldn’t see it.

  “So, he was health conscious? He looked like he lifted or something. That’s not really that weird.”

  “He was also extremely paranoid. He seemed to believe that he was being followed and had elaborate escape plans for his hotel, emergency plans to leave the country, and several secret bank accounts and caches of documents.”

  “Well considering that he was exploded and murdered, maybe that wasn’t so paranoid.” Thinking about Alberto being killed still made my blood run cold. I hated the fact that the police still didn’t seem to know why someone would send him a pipe bomb.

  “You’ve got me there. I heard there’s been no breakthrough on that case, either. That detective called the other day and said the case has gone cold.”

  “The copy of the journal didn’t help?” I’d harbored the vague hope that Alberto had been sending me a clue to his murder.

  “Unfortunately, not.”

  “It’s weird that he would send his notebook to me right before he got murdered if it had no connection to his death.”

  “Everything associated with this quest has been weird from the beginning. Why should this be any different? I’m starting to think I might have sent you on the weirdest quest ever when I suggested you find this fern. It’s weird that Alberto was completely obsessed with this fern in the first place. And it’s super weird that you’re filming a reality show to document your quest for it. I just hope it pays off for you. Anyway, the reason I’m calling is to tell you that the stuff you’re going to be interested in within the journal is about the location of your magic fern.”

  “Let’s not call it my magic fern, ok? I feel like that really cheapens it. And the reality show was necessary to obtain the permits I needed to visit the locations I need to go. You have to have a good reason to visit active volcanoes, and I’m not an academic.”

  Silence greeted my request. Then a sigh.

  “I just feel like you’re leading the whole crew on. You don’t really give a shit about the show. You just want to secure a supply of the fern. They’re gonna’ be pissed off when they learn you don’t actually have any intention of using the footage you’re shooting and are bankrolling this all yourself.”

  “If the show is any good, I could still shop it to networks.” In reality I did feel a bit guilty about allowing the crew to think this show we were filming the ‘pilot’ for actually had a distribution deal, but the subterfuge was necessary. In the event we were inspected by the increasingly crazy government here, we needed a convincing cover story.

  “Whatever. Do you want to know about the location of the damn fern or not? I’m trying to help you here. You know I have a job beyond helping you locate rare plants, right?”

  Nathan was a friggin’ former astronaut. He was hot shit. Not that I was jealous or resentful.

  “Sorry. Yeah. Go on.”

  “Thanks. Anyway, the location that he told you about? Apparently, his local contacts recently told him that supplies of the fern had dwindled there. He had two other probable locations scouted but didn’t know whether or not the fern actually grew there.”

  “So, the Taal volcano is out. Damn.” It had sounded incredibly cool, too, and not just because of its badass name. The volcano was like something out of Bond movie: a volcano on an island with a lake in the middle and another island in that lake. It was like the Inception of islands and was just exotic enough to make good, easy-to-film TV while still being only a day trip from Manila.

  More importantly, this would alter Casey and Zing’s entire filming plan. I wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

  “Yeah, sorry about the bad news. You’ll have to either choose one of the two alternate locations or try to get in touch with the other researcher that Alberto had been corresponding with. Her name is Darna Cruz and her contact information is in the translation I sent you.”

  “Cool. I’ll check that out and try and get in contact with her. I really appreciate your help.”

  “No problem. In other news, Zoey came home with a puppy yesterday.”

  I stifled a giggle. Nathan’s fiancé had been wanting a dog since she met the massive wolf-thing that our cousin Nicholas kept as a pet. Nathan, a devoted neat-freak and classic germaphobe was less sure he wanted a pet. Unsurprisingly, Zoey had won.

  “Oh yeah? What kind of dog did she get?” I figured Zoey for a Pomeranian or toy poodle type of gal. Maybe even a chihuahua.

  “He’s a Great Dane. White with black spots like a Dalmatian. Apparently, he’s going to weigh one hundred and seventy pounds. Right now? Fifty. Little dude is basically all paws and head.”

  “Sounds adorable. What’s this future couch-destroyer named?”

  “He doesn’t have a name yet. Right now, we’re torn between Apollo and Glenn.”

  A space-themed dog name? I should have known. Nathan was nothing if not predictable.

  “How about Buzz?”

  “Ever since that month you decided ‘Buzz Light-dick’ was a good nickname for me, I haven’t really liked Buzz.” His voice was dry.

  I smirked. That had been a good nickname for Nathan. Fitting.

  “How about Galileo or Pluto?” I offered. I could easily see Nathan and Zoey taking their behemoth of a dog to the dog park and bellowing ‘Stop humping that poodle, Galileo!’.

  Nathan seemed to be genuinely considering my suggestions.

  “Not bad. I actually really like Pluto. I’ll have to see what Zoey thinks.”

  “I’m glad you got a dog. It’ll be good for you. It’s like a practice baby.”

  “Ha ha.” I knew from the sound of my brother’s voice that he was rolling his eyes at me and probably shaking his head dismissively. The poor man had no idea.

  “I’m serious. Have you seen how much Zoey likes hanging around baby Al?”

  Our cousin Alexander and his wife Madison had welcomed Alexander Durant IV into our family about a year and a half ago. Every time I saw Zoey and Madison, my brother’s fiancé had her chubby first cousin once removed (in law) in her arms. Madison was already pregnant with baby number two, probably because Zoey would never let her near her own firstborn.

  “She does like babies.” Nathan’s voice sounded somewhere between affectionate, hopeful, and fucking terrified. I grinned.

  “You just wait. You’re gonna’ be a dad before you know it. Be sure you name it after me.”

  Giving my brother grief was one of my life’s greatest joys. Especially when I knew I was right. Zoey loved kids. Whether Nathan realized it or not, he was going to end up with a minivan in his future. He might as well start stocking up on diapers right now.

  “Our plan is to get married and try
this thing with the dog first.” His voice was like his answer: firm and reasonable. Also, wrong.

  “Mhmm. Does Zoey know that? Oh, and speaking of the ladies, I met one.”

  “Ladies? Yeah, they make up fifty-one percent of the populations of the Earth. I’d venture that you’ve met a few.”

  “No, I mean I met someone.” A very sexy someone. Some I didn’t just like. Someone I like-liked.

  “You met someone you’re actually serious about?” He sounded shocked, which while warranted, also made me a bit irritated. I could be serious about women. It didn’t happen a lot, and it hadn’t happened recently, but I wasn’t incapable of having a lasting relationship.

  “Yes, I did. Her name is Casey. She’s the producer on The Quest.”

  “Oh, and she works for you on the sham production? That can’t end badly. When’s the engagement party?” His voice was sarcastic. He really could be an arrogant prick sometimes.

  “Don’t tease. We just started this whole thing, but I’ve got a good feeling about this one. Casey and the show.”

  “Gee. Well if Casey survives ten days wandering around in the Philippines with you while looking for a magic fern and still likes you after she finds 0ut her job is a joke, you had better marry her right away. One that special might never come around again.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Oh, look at the time. I’ve got to go.” I didn’t even try to make it sound convincing. I just didn’t feel like being ribbed over Casey. She actually was special. I knew I could be a handful, and I might not be an astronaut like my brother, but I liked to think I wasn’t just a total mess. The show might be a cover, but I really would shop it to networks if we ended up with something decent. I just wasn’t expecting anything of the sort.

  My indignation extended just long enough to take a look at the translated journal that Nathan had sent me. The locations that might provide a comfortable home for the flame-leaf fern were not on Luzon, the main island. They were in rural areas on remote secondary islands, deep in tropical forests, on the slopes of dangerous, active volcanoes. This was going to be an extremely tough sell for my crew.

  Maybe I was a total mess.

  13

  Casey

  “We’ve had a small change of plans.”

  When David wandered down to the tables in the lobby to make this announcement, it was ten o’clock. The rest of us had assembled to discuss the day’s filming plan and go over the highlights from yesterday.

  “Please define small,” Zing said instantly. “To me, a small change would be that you decided to wear a blue shirt instead of a red one.” Her tone indicated that even a small change of plans would not be welcome. A consummate planner, Zing clearly did not appreciate surprises. She was a bit high-strung, to be honest. This was my first time working with her, but she had made our first day of filming a relative breeze. Her skill was undeniable. Good fixers like Zing didn’t come cheap, but they were worth their weight in gold.

  “We’ve had a medium sized change of plans,” David amended, eyeing Zing apprehensively. She stared back at him with a pinched expression. “Instead of going to Taal tomorrow, a contact I’ve made wants us to meet her on Nico island, a bit north of Luzan. It’s just a short ferry ride north of where we were going anyway.”

  This news was met with a confused silence. None of us knew where that was (even Zing, who was from Singapore). As soon as we figured it out and determined that it was in the proverbial middle of nowhere, everyone had something to say.

  Some of our contributions were useful, others less so.

  “We may need to obtain different permits than the ones we applied for,” I started to say. Curtis interrupted me:

  “I’m not sure I’ll have enough battery power to film a full day without access to an outlet. If we run out of power, we’re toast.” Curtis had barely finished his sentence when Daphne chimed in.

  “My lighting equipment is super delicate. It might get, like, completely destroyed by a long hike. Especially if it rains.” Daphne was swiftly eclipsed by Trevor. His contribution was typically contrarian.

  “I think it’ll be fun. It looks rugged and very remote. I was worried that Taal was going to be too tame for me anyway.”

  The idea that a hike up to an active volcano of any type might be too tame for Trevor made us all collectively roll our eyes, not that he noticed or cared because Zing chose that moment to chime in.

  “I quit,” she said, rising and closing her laptop with a decisive snap. “I have no contacts outside of Luzon. This was not what I signed up for, and I’m not going to spend my time slumming around some fisherman’s village. We’re on the verge of typhoon season, and unlike the rest of you, I know how dangerous that can be. I’m not taking the risk. Sorry Casey.”

  “Wait! Zing, please hold on,” I tried, but she shook her head.

  “Look, Casey, everyone vouched for you, but I know a bad production when I see one. I’ve been in reality TV for a long time in Singapore. I can make more money, more easily there than I would make dragging my fat ass up some volcano. I swear it’s not personal. I’m sorry to leave you all without a fixer, but I wouldn’t be useful to you anyway. I’m gonna’ go home.”

  She shook my hand, as well as the hands of the rest of the crew (snubbing David entirely) and walked off. I was simply too stunned to stop her, although I doubted that I could. She could afford to be discerning.

  Locating Zing in the first place had required me to call in almost of my professional favors and I’d had to convince her to take the job in the first place by promising an easy shoot. The fact that I’d already lost her was both professionally disappointing and practically disastrous. Zing knew the culture, she knew the people, and most importantly, she knew Spanish and Filipino Tagalog, the two most common languages spoken in the Philippines. Practically everyone in Manila and the other tourist areas spoke English, but in the rural parts of the country my guidebooks stressed that we could not assume that would be the case.

  “Shit,” I choked out after she was gone. “She was the only one of us that spoke Filipino Tagalog. We’re flying blind without her.”

  I resisted the temptation to look hopefully at Daphne. Her surname was Chinese, but she grew up in California and sounded like a valley girl. I knew it was racist to assume she’d speak Tagalog just because she was Asian. If she grew up in the valley, she was probably more likely to speak Spanish.

  “I can speak some Filipino,” Curtis said. Daphne, David, Trevor and I looked at him in surprise and he shrugged sheepishly. “I was stationed in Zambales for a few years when I was in the Navy back in the day. My job was really boring—literally scrubbing the sides of the aircraft carriers—so I spent a lot of time studying to try and date the local women. I was never that successful at picking up women, but I did pick up some language skills.”

  “I didn’t know we had any military bases in the Philippines,” Daphne remarked. She looked fairly nonplussed by her boss’ secret language skill. Curtis really was full of surprises. I happened to know that he could also play the trumpet and cook a very respectable custard pie, although those skills were much less useful in today’s predicament.

  “We don’t have the Philippines base anymore,” Curtis said with a rueful shake of his head. “The US closed it in the early nineties. For obvious reasons, the Filipinos wanted their land back after two hundred odd years of colonialism. I’m ancient, remember?”

  “Exactly how rusty are these language skills?” I pressed. “If we need to hire a translator, I should probably get to work on that right now. Well, that and the permits. And the tickets. And the… ugh, everything.” The number of small details that needed to be attended to was immense. I didn’t even know if they had hotels on the island.

  “I’ve got a translation app on my phone and a phrase book,” Trevor interjected unhelpfully. “And I’m very skilled at intuiting body language, especially female body language.” We ignored him. No one in the world was less skilled than intuiting body
language than Trevor. It really didn’t matter how many books on picking up women he’d read.

  “I think that I can get us successfully to Nico,” Curtis said. His voice was relatively confident, and I’d never known him to exaggerate his abilities before. “David, the contact we’re meeting can translate from there, right?”

  David nodded. “Yes, I think so. I know she’s fluent in the local languages and English. It seems like everyone in the Philippines speaks about four languages. She’s a medical doctor on that island—sort of a country doctor type—so I’d guess she’s well respected in the area as well.”

  I took a deep breath, held up a hand to stop Trevor’s next comment, and looked around the table at the rest of the crew. They looked at me expectantly.

  “Before we go any further, I need to know. Anyone else want to quit right now? This is your chance.” I watched as the remaining group members exchanged a few significant glances and shook their heads one by one. “Ok good. Because I need everyone to be at one hundred percent. In the next couple of hours, I need each of you to figure out exactly what you need to shoot on Nico and get it ready before we start filming at twelve. You’ll have this evening as well, but since we probably won’t finish shooting until late, I’d recommend getting started right now.”

  The crew scattered off urgently to their individual tasks. Even Trevor looked like he was on it. There was no time to babysit, so I cracked open my laptop in order to start researching permits. If I was lucky, we’d be heading somewhere so remote we didn’t even need permits. From what I’d read, the southern part of the country was where the political instability and restricted access was, not the north.

  A shadow at my shoulder reminded me that David had remained next to me after the crew left. He stood at my elbow until I looked up at him.

  “Sorry I didn’t warn you,” he said. His voice was gentle and contrite. “I figured it was better to tell everyone at once.” He looked like he expected to be yelled at, but I wasn’t really that type. Usually I just get passive aggressive when I’m irritated, but after last night’s multiple orgasms I couldn’t muster any angst whatsoever about our filming locales.