Double Life

by S. Usher Evans

  "I am really excited that you're doing this," Vel said, as she joined him on the lower level of her ship, bag slung over his shoulder. "We're going to have such a fun weekend!"

  "Hooray…" she said half-heartedly, following him onto the busy dock.

  When she'd been there a few weeks ago, the dock was completely empty. But today, it was filled with big ships, smaller shuttles coming and going, and people—tons of people. Lyssa recognized none of them—they were probably aunts, uncles, and cousins who would be spending the weekend at one of the many guest houses dotting the countryside. They were all wearing the traditional Serann garb—long, full dresses with layers of petticoats for the ladies and waistcoats for the gentlemen. Several porters were unloading huge trunks, getting direction from stuffy-looking servants, who were checking clipboards wildly.

  "Pretty busy. So where…" She trailed off when she realized Vel had disappeared. She suddenly felt very exposed standing in a room full of people who hated her.

  The porter carried a load of bags out a sliding glass door, and she quickly followed him, hoping to run into Vel. She found herself in the Manor's ballroom, which was buzzing with activity. The hall itself was a cavernous space, with a huge staircase, intricately carved and designed. The walls of the room were covered in dark, expensive wood, with paintings of the most important Serann ancestors—including Jora Serann himself, the ancestor who'd discovered and settled the planet. The floor was covered in the finest tile, which was being cleaned and buffed by a set of servants, crouched over and working furiously.

  There were servants all over, Lyssa realized, carrying fine china and exquisite gold decorations. They paid her little attention, focusing only on the task at hand.

  She spotted a tuft of blond hair ducking through one of two giant open doors behind the staircase. Quickly, she dodged servants to follow him.

  She took one step inside the room and immediately regretted her decision.

  The dining hall was filled with people milling about a long table that spanned from one end to the other. The end closest to Lyssa was filled with young children, screaming and chasing each other (followed closely by nannies who were also screaming and chasing them). The further up the table, the older the children, some seated already, some standing around chatting. The boys were dressed in the Academy uniform, the girls in the same long dresses the people in the shuttle station were wearing.

  At the head of the table was one large, empty chair.

  Lyssa felt the dread in her chest again, turning to leave. Which was when the doors shut in her face.

  She pushed on them, but they were too heavy for her to move.

  She turned around, feeling much like a rat in a trap, as the children scampered to their seats. The sound of scraping chairs quieted and Lyssa became acutely aware of her heartbeat pounding in her chest.

  Bam.

  Mrs. Dr. Sostas Peate appeared in the doorway from the kitchen. She was wearing an exquisite gown of white with a red beaded design, bulging at the stomach and bosom. Her blonde hair formed perfectly and stiffly over her head and her makeup had settled into the wrinkles around her eyes and lips, making the lines more visible. Her gaze swept the room.

  And then, like a laser, it focused on Lyssa, pressed flat against the back doors.

  For a moment, Lyssa wondered if her own mother wouldn't recognize her as Razia again.

  "What in Leveman's Vortex are you doing here?"

  No, that special level of hatred was reserved only for Lyssandra Peate.

  "Hi…?" She grinned, waving slowly. Every single eye in the room—from the tiniest child seated at the end of the table, to Sera, the eldest sister—was focused on her.

  Mrs. Dr. Sostas Peate was now the color of the red beads on her dress. They actually matched quite nicely. Her bosom heaved and her fists were clenched in a ball. She seemed ready to pop out of her fancy dress.

  "The nerve of you to show up here again!" Mrs. Dr. Sostas Peate breathed. "And on my birthday!"

  "Surprise?" Lyssa pulled herself off the door, and slowly walked the length of the table, looking for a seat that she could quickly slide into without drawing any more attention to herself. Unfortunately, every seat at the table was taken—even Vel, that little bastard, had managed to sneak in and find his seat.

  "Doesn't seem to be a spot for me," Lyssa said, trying to smile nicely.

  "Shouldn't that be a hint?" one of her siblings muttered. The ones who heard giggled meanly.

  "Oh wait." Lyssa smiled, feeling her claws come out. "There's a seat."

  And without another word, she marched up to the head of the table, loudly pulled out the seat normally reserved for Jukin (who was absent), and promptly sat down in it.

  An audible gasp came up from the table.

  "You-you-you can't sit there!" Sera snapped.

  "Try and move me."

  A servant appeared, nervously, next to Mrs. Dr. Sostas Peate. "M-Madam, the first course shall get cold if—"

  "Fine, fine," she snapped, sitting down in her chair. Two servants pushed it in with a loud scrape.

  "Yes, yes, let's eat," Lyssa said, picking up her napkin and placing it in her lap nicely.

  "Get sucked into Leveman's!" Sera growled at her.

  "My, that’s a bit intense for you, isn’t it, Sera? Don’t you have to go pray at your altar for that one?" Lyssa said, raising her eyebrow as soup was placed in front of her.

  "I doubt you’ve even seen the inside of a temple since you left here," Sera snapped back.

  "Of course, she hasn't." Dorst was sitting to Lyssa's left. "Barely at the Academy."

  "And here I thought you pretended I didn't exist." Lyssa sighed, looking over at him. "Except when vaguely threatening me about taking on interns. Thanks for not doing anything when Pymus shoved that stupid kid on me."

  Dorst winced.

  "Dorst, I thought you said that you'd intervened on your brother's behalf?" Mrs. Dr. Sostas Peate said, her beady eyes trained on him. Dorst tried not to wither under her stare.

  "Yeah, Dorst," Lyssa piled on, "I obviously can't be trusted."

  "Apparently, Dr. Pymus believes very strongly that Vel can learn a lot from her," Dorst said, shrinking slightly under his mother's intense focus.

  "Yeah, more like he's trying to spy on Sostas," Lyssa snapped, pouring salt into her soup to make it palatable.

  The mention of his name caused everyone in earshot to stiffen.

  "How is your father?" Mrs. Dr. Sostas Peate said, her voice steady.

  "And it begins." Lyssa sighed, taking out her mini-computer dramatically. "That only took, what, two minutes?"

  "Well?" Dorst asked, annoyed.

  "I don't know. I haven't seen him in ten years," Lyssa said, rolling her eyes.

  Mrs. Dr. Sostas Peate sniffed but said nothing.

  "One of these days, when it's your time to be judged by the Great Creator, you will have to answer for all of your lies," Sera said superiorly.

  "Oh, trust me," Lyssa said with a catty grin, "I'll have a lot more to answer for than lying to you idiots."

  ***

  "What are you wearing?"

  "At least it’s not a giant tent."

  "You've gained weight."

  "Skinnier than you."

  "Have you found a husband yet?"

  "Have you heard of this thing called birth control?"

  "Okay, okay," Vel said, nearly dragging Lyssa away from the throng of people in a post-dinner feeding frenzy. Once they were safely out of earshot, he turned to her. "I thought you said you were going to be civil?"

  "Yeah well, that would also require them to be civil to me," Lyssa replied. "Which, I don't know if you saw, they weren't."

  "They're just in shock," Vel said, waving her off. "And it'll take some time for them to come around. But you should be nice first."

  She feigned hurt. "You mean that wasn't being nice?"

  He rolled his eyes as they walked up the grand staircase to the bedrooms comprising the s
econd, third, fourth, and fifth floors of the Manor. Children were running around the second floor, pausing momentarily to stare at her and Vel as they passed.

  "Where are we going?" Lyssa asked.

  "Your room."

  "Ah, yeah, actually, I think I'm going to just sleep on my ship," Lyssa said, wriggling out of his arm. "More comfortable and less…deadly there."

  "Nonsense," Vel said. "You have a perfectly fine room, and you're going to sleep here."

  "Is that part of the deal?" Lyssa said. "And how long exactly do I have to stay?"

  "Until the party is over," Vel said, leading her onto the third floor. There was a thick carpet underfoot, which was being cleaned by a servant down the hall. Each of the doors was made of the same exquisite dark wood as the ballroom below, and had a gold plated number in front of it.

  They stopped in front of room three hundred fifteen, and Lyssa looked at Vel expectantly.

  "I don't have a key or anything—"

  "Why would it be locked?" Vel said, opening the door.

  Lyssa suddenly felt as if she were in a time warp, stepping into a room that looked exactly the same as it had the last time she was there. The white four-poster bed was neatly made with a pink comforter folded over crisp pillows. White bookshelves lined the pink-striped wallpaper walls, filled with teddy bears and other knick-knacks. A white desk and chair were in the corner, a stack of notebooks neatly placed on top.

  "Are we in the right room?" Vel asked, looking around, dubiously. "Seems a little...girly, don't you think?"

  Lyssa walked over to the desk and picked up one of the books, History of Planetary Exploration, Volume 3, and smiled at him. "Definitely my room."

  "Pink?" Vel said, looking at the wallpaper.

  "Not my choice," Lyssa said, flipping through the books on the desk. She came across a half-completed book of number pattern games—Sostas used to buy them in bulk to keep her busy. "I didn't know half this stuff was here. Looks like they just shipped all my belongings after each semester."

  "You didn't even come home once?" Vel said.

  "Well, when you have a pirate's gun to your head and your mother doesn't do anything… Not as if I spent much time here before that happened, either."

  "Where were you?" Vel asked, sitting down on the bed.

  "With Sostas," Lyssa said, distractedly thumbing through a book. "Down in his lab."

  "So when are you going to go talk to Mother?" Vel asked, looking at her curiously.

  "Do I still have to do that?" Lyssa asked, closing the book and rolling her eyes. "It's obvious she's uninterested in doing anything other than murdering me."

  "Lucky for you, you took down Dal Jamus. You know, if she tries."

  Lyssa paused for a moment, letting the full scope of Vel's comment sink in, before she turned to look at him, impressed.

  ***

  Lyssa found herself lying in her childhood bed, unable to sleep. Although it might've had something to do with the leftover adrenaline from sparring with her many siblings, it was more likely due to the blue glow from Leveman's Vortex in the night sky.

  She rolled on her side away from the light, but found herself staring at a set of murderous-looking dolls that had never been touched. She flipped onto her back and covered her face with her pillow—but the smell of the dust was too much and she had to sit up.

  Damn that Leveman's Vortex.

  Angrily, she kicked the covers off her and walked to the door, hoping a nighttime stroll would help clear her mind and let her sleep. After all, she had another full day of backstabbing, evil sibling fun—she needed her rest.

  Her bare feet made no noise on the carpet as she walked down the silent hall lined with closed doors. She wondered which room was Vel's. He'd all but disappeared after a while. But then again, he did enjoy being there, so maybe that was what it was.

  She came to the end of the hall and the spiral staircase, and found herself counting the steps, the same way she'd done as a child. Most of the time, she was climbing these stairs in a hurry—quickly changing out a set of clothes or grabbing a book Sostas wanted her to read on their next trip.

  She paused at the bottom landing—the transition from soft carpet to stone tile was always jarring. Carefully, she placed one foot on the floor, wincing at the coldness, before stepping both feet on the ground. She walked out into the ballroom, the giant paintings eerily lit by candlelight. The decorations for the party were nearly complete—and already tables had been set up along the sides to hold food and drink.

  Sostas was never one for parties, and it was rare that his wife would coerce him into attending one. When he did, he would sit in the corner wearing whatever he'd been wearing that day, covered in dirt or oil from tinkering with machines, scowling and daring anyone at the party to talk to him. Lyssa was always by his side, cross-legged on the floor, watching the ladies and gentlemen dance.

  She crossed the tile floor, illuminated by the candelabras near the pictures and Leveman's Vortex, which seemed to follow her through the house. Off to the right of the room was another hall, this one leading to the kitchens. Much like the rest of the ghostly house, they were empty, but she could see giant ovens and pantries stocked with food, just waiting to be prepared for the party tomorrow.

  She continued on her midnight stroll, until she found herself in front of a large metal door, with a glowing red keypad. She stood in front of it for a moment, wondering if it would be a better idea to turn around and go back to bed. Instead, she reached up and pressed the buttons, the soft tones of the keys combining into a familiar, comforting melody.

  With a small click, the door unlatched and she pushed it open, revealing nothing but darkness. Her fingers searched along the wall until they slid over the light switch, illuminating a long staircase and a man hastily scribbling in a black, leather-bound journal.

  "You're late," he said simply.

  "I'm sorry."

  "Lock the door, Lyssandra, I swear to the Great Creator," he muttered, without looking up.

  She turned around and locked the door behind her, and walked down the stairs. The lab was filled with machines and books, and the walls were covered in chalkboards, with hastily scribbled notes and mathematical equations all over them. His desk, though, was the center of his universe, covered with stacks of papers and maps, though there was always a little space for his journals.

  He didn't speak to her as she took her spot at her own table, textbooks about Deep Space Exploration that she wouldn't get to until she was three or four years into the Academy. He was focused on the journal in front of him and the scraps of paper from observations about Leveman's Vortex he was trying to parlay into another discovery.

  "Quit staring at me and get to work," he barked, his back still turned to her.

  "I finished this book already," Lyssa said, before realizing, "I graduated from the Academy two years ago."

  "Yet you still can't remember to lock the door behind you." He grunted, turning the page. "Look and see what you've brought."

  Lyssa turned to look behind her and was up in a flash, as three unwelcome guests came strutting down the stairs. Mrs. Dr. Sostas Peate, wearing her finest afternoon dress, followed by Priest Helmsley in his floor-length frock, and Sera, who trailed farther behind, in a simple sky blue dress.

  "M-Mother," she whispered, turning to look for protection from her father, but finding him gone. In fact, the lab was devoid of most of his things—save for the scraps of paper on the desks and her books on the table. Lyssa turned to face the three of them, her heart beating out of her chest.

  "So this is where the two of you have been hiding, hm?" Helmsley said, glancing about the room. "Filthy in here."

  "Lyssandra, it's been three months," Sera said. "We're concerned about him. Where has he gone?"

  "I don't know," Lyssa said, for what felt like the hundredth time. "He just left one morning and he hasn't called, and—"

  "This is pointless," Mrs. Dr. Sostas Peate said, giving her a look. "She's n
othing but a liar. Jukin is searching for him, I know that he will help—"

  "He didn't!" Lyssa cried, feeling a firm hand on her shoulder and a cold barrel against her temple.

  Her mother was staring at her through a video screen, looking rather unimpressed with her predicament.

  "You see, Lyssandra, this is what happens when you lie. The Great Creator does not reward bad little girls. He punishes them."

  "Mother," Lyssa whimpered. "Mother, please. He's gonna kill me."

  "Then perhaps you should call your father and see if he'll come for you."

  Lyssa sucked in a loud breath. "M-mother…"

  "I hate that it has come to this, but you've persisted in your lies and now you have to face the consequences. Call your father. I'm sure he will be obliged to pay whatever ransom this…miscreant is asking for."

  Hot tears rolled down Lyssa's face. "Mother, I swear I don't know where he is. He just left and—"

  "Then I suggest you find him."

  She stood in front of the dais and the Arch of Eron, her father nowhere to be found.

  "You see, child?" Helmsley said, standing above her. "There are consequences for your actions."

  "But I didn't do anything wrong," she cried, falling to her knees. "I've never done anything wrong."

  She watched a tear fall to the ground—then, as if it were melting the floor itself, it fell straight through. The floor grew warm and sulfur filled her nostrils.

  "Oh, but child, you have been wrong since the day you were born," Helmsley continued. The ground around her began to crumble and fall into a river of fire beneath her.

  She looked up at Helmsley, petrified, but found it wasn't him—it was Sostas.

  "You were supposed to be good."

  "I tried!" Lyssa sobbed. "I tried to be good! Please! Please…please don't leave me…"

  He paused and turned to look at her once more, his brown eyes staring directly into hers. "I have no use for a rotten soul."

  And with that, she felt the ground give way beneath her.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  "No!"

  She shot upright, her whole body shaking.

  It took her a moment to remember where she was—to recognize she wasn't falling to her death. She covered her eyes with her sweaty hands, taking deep, gulping breaths to try to calm her thumping heart. The entire dream had been so real.