Her father was there, shushing them and trying to console her frantic mother, trying to convince her that everything was going to be all right.
But in their thoughts, they both knew that it would never be all right. They couldn't protect her and they knew that very soon they would have to decide between keeping her and loving her, or letting her go and giving her a chance to live.
Young Genevieve clung to her mother and cried.
Time jumped forward. Paul was staring at the pages of a reading book, while a nearby child stuttered through the words. And then—
The prickle of electricity... She was in a very small room, sitting alone on a couch. She'd been with her uncle before she'd fallen asleep, but he was gone now. She pushed her mind out trying to find her parents, but the more she pushed, the more crowded the world became, the harder it was to find them.
A tall dark man entered the room. Malcolm Feathers. The smell of his cologne wafted through her senses.
It was the same scent that had been on the postcard.
"Good afternoon Genevieve, did you have a good nap?"
Where is my uncle, Xavier? She wanted to ask. "Xaboo." Her tiny voice squeaked.
Malcolm scooped her up off the couch, and took her into the other room where a young couple with a baby was waiting. Quincy and Nancy Taylor.
"Thank you for doing this Quince." Malcolm said. "You're saving her life."
Then – she could feel them, just at the edge of her awareness, her parents — they were so far away.
And then he was there — The Hunter. They can't hide you from me, he taunted.
She began to cry as the vision faded. Back in the classroom, another child was reading now.
Time advanced again. Paul woke from a sound sleep, his brain prickling with electricity. He clutched his hands to his head, scratching at his scalp.
Light framed the curtain, but the room and her caged bed were dark. Everyone else was sleeping. This was her best chance. She was determined, more determined than she'd ever been. She would find her parents and she would make them understand that she should be with them.
They were home, in their bed, sleeping, dreaming...
No. They weren't sleeping... They weren't in their beds... they were dead. Buried in the ground. The Hunter had killed them.
The Hunter. He was there. He could see her, and he spoke directly to her. No life I take is as important to me as yours. I will stop at nothing and no one until I have you. No matter where you go my loyal servants will find you, and I will kill you. You will never rule over me.
She pulled her awareness back, trying desperately to escape the torments of the Hunter. But it wasn't working. He was there, he was close and he was getting closer.
She could almost feel his hands around her. She screamed then all was dark.
Young Paul woke on the floor near his bed. It was light outside his window now, he was shaken and scared, and his whole body hurt. He crawled back into his bed and pulled the covers over his head.
She pulled her awareness back but kept hold of his hand, rubbing her fretted brow with her other hand.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
She nodded.
"For the record, your parent's aren't dead. But you knew that already, didn't you?" he said, just realizing.
She nodded again. "Thank you, Paul."
"It's strange, seeing it again like this, through your eyes, your perspective. It changes it. Makes it... clearer, fills in the gaps, if that makes sense. I understand now, that it was your experience and I was just a witness instead of it being something that was happening to me. I feel kind of relieved... and kind of shitty about that."
"Paul, don't—" she started but he cut her off.
"No." He patted the back of her hand he was still holding. "I always assumed the innocent princess and the shadowy Hunter were two sides of the same coin. When I first learned about you, about the Aeon princess, I believed that the innocence could be saved from the looming dark that craved death and power. But I'm part of the minority there." He cleared his throat. "Now that I know the truth of what I was actually witnessing..." Paul took a long slow breath. "It's like starting back at one." Paul looked distant, thoughtful for a moment. "Gen," he sounded hesitant. "Do you know anything about Xavier's death?"
Genevieve shuddered. "I was there."
"Will you show me?"
She felt the hot sting of tears, threatening. She shut her eyes to them and nodded.
Paul's grip on her hand tightened as her memory took her back to the image of Lewis Xavier standing in her hotel room. She tried to distance herself from the memories, from the pain, but she couldn't. The truth of what had happened, what she was, and what she'd done blanketed the memories with pain and regret. When the memory brought her back to the hotel room — as if she'd woken from another nightmare, she pulled her mind back into her own. She wiped the streaks of tears that ran down her cheeks before she turned to look at Paul. His entire being was tense, his expression grievous.
He stood. "I have some things I need to take care of. I'm going to talk to David some more and then I'll come back and check on you. Okay?"
She nodded. Paul kissed her on the forehead then left.
Genevieve was grateful for the sanctuary of the gauzy pale room. She sat on the edge of the bed watching the fog gather, slowly obscuring the pale blue sky.
Alicia had brought her a tray of food for dinner — chicken with rice and vegetables. She'd picked at it a little but didn't have much of an appetite.
Her thoughts were with Nick. She was desperate to see him, to be with him. It was possible she knew, to go to him, to see him — she'd done it countless times before, she just wasn't sure how, she'd always been asleep — or falling asleep or...
She decided to try and concentrate on him, on being with him, "Nicholas Grace." She closed her eyes and lay back on the bed, when she opened them again she was standing in the foyer of Nick's house.
Roger cocked his head and mewed at her from atop the piano. She'd done it — on purpose. This could prove to be a very handy skill to have.
She heard voices in the kitchen. He wasn't alone. She didn't exactly want to be seen by anyone else, but her desire to see Nick was stronger than her desire to remain unseen. Marcus lifted his head as she entered; he eyed her for a moment then returned his attention to the drink he was pouring.
Nick followed suit a few seconds after Marcus, first looking then not, he was sitting on the floor with his back to the counter, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Judging by their reactions they couldn't see her. Marcus handed Nick the drink he'd been pouring.
"What's this?"
"Strong."
Nick tossed it back in one gulp and grimaced.
They sat in silence for a long time, Nick on the floor, Marcus on a backwards-turned kitchen chair. Genevieve crossed to Nick and sat on the floor just in front of him.
"So what are you going to do about it?" Marcus broke the silence.
"Nothing," Nick shook his head.
"I like that plan, that's a good plan, but maybe we should... I don't know... tell someone."
"I can't, Marcus."
"Can't or won't?"
"Would you break a deal with her?"
Marcus sighed, resigned.
The silence continued until Nick's home phone rang. He didn't answer it. His cell rang moments later. He silenced it then tossed it across the room. She wasn't sure what would happen if it hit her, but she dodged his throw anyway. Marcus's phone rang next. He silenced it and set it on the kitchen table.
Nick retrieved the bottle of liquor from the counter, without standing. He offered it to Marcus, who glanced briefly at her before declining with a shake of his head.
Nick took a drink, and then another.
Marcus reached for the bottle and Nick politely handed it over. Marcus set it on the table behind him. Nick acknowledged the gesture with a nod.
She stayed with him for a very long time,
but eventually the pull of something she could no longer ignore brought her back to the pale room with gauzy curtains.
The room was dark, lit only by the soft blue of moonlight washing through the room and reflecting off the mirrored wall. She was curled on the bed, amidst the pillows and gauzy netting. She realized that she was not in the position she had fallen asleep in — her hair was now undone, and she was barefoot. She wondered who had taken the time to care for her. A pulse of pain shot through her right arm as she realized she was not alone.
She turned to see Paul sitting in a pale chair across from her. He'd changed his clothes again.
"How's Nick?" he said softly.
"How did you know?" She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest.
"Where else would you go?"
"He's... with Marcus."
Paul swore. "Did you know that Marcus can see traveling Ange?"
"What!?" Gen could feel the blood draining from her face. "He could see me?"
"Settle down, it's probably not that big of a deal. I just thought you'd want to know."
She relaxed slightly, though it didn't make her feel any better. "I knew they would be able to sense me..." she said mostly to herself. "Did you..." She motioned to her hair and feet.
"Amber," he supplied.
"I think she likes you," Gen teased.
"Yeah. It's weird. Typically, women only want to use me to get to David. I'm not sure what to make of it."
"Do you love her?"
"I don't know. I'm not sure what that's supposed to feel like. I know I love you. I've always loved you. Before I knew you, I loved you – I loved the idea of you, and how you felt to me, if that makes any sense. I like being a part of... whatever it is we have. I liked it more when it was peaceful and happy, it sort of scares the shit out of me now, but — am I freaking you out?"
"A little bit. But I think I know what you mean."
"I'm not romantically in love with you, just to be clear. It's more like... obsessively over-protective-older-brother kind of love..."
Gen chuckled.
Paul shifted, leaning forward. "Some things have happened that you need to be aware of."
There was nothing comforting in the tone of his voice. She scooted to the edge of the bed.
"Embry Farold killed himself."
"What? Why would he do that?"
Paul shrugged. "It's not like he had a lot of options."
Gen shuddered. "I know how that feels," she heard herself say, as a burst of warmth shot through her. She could feel the awareness pressing outward, but she kept it contained for fear of knowing or seeing what Paul wasn't telling her.
Paul shifted in his seat again and cleared his throat. "Uh... We've taken care of—" he stopped. "No. That's not the way I want to say this." He swore.
She waited for Paul to get a hold on his thoughts. She could tell he'd rather have her take it than have to tell it, which only made her more reluctant to do so.
"Jennifer Hollis has become one of the casualties of the attempted robbery at Royal Crown. Funeral arrangements will be handled by her family in Colorado, so that should be the end of it here," he breathed. "It'll take a couple of weeks or so, but we're working on a new cover identity for you." He took another breath. "Are you okay?"
She wasn't, but she nodded anyway. "What am I in the middle of here, Paul? What was Nick after at Royal Crown?"
"Unfortunately those two questions aren't mutually exclusive to each other. You're in the middle of what it means to be the Aeon Princess. What Nick was after at the bank was incidental. He was after the core. It's kind of like the main power supply for the Omnibus. That's the uh..."
"Name of the space ship?" Gen supplied, that familiar mayonnaise pang twisting in her stomach.
"Yeah. How did you—?" Paul look confused, but then, seeming to understand the direction — the person — this conversation was heading towards he quickly changed the subject. "Yeah. The core holds more power in it than anything ever seen on earth. It's the kind of thing that's best to keep hidden and locked away. At least until it's time to leave."
"Leave? You mean, leave earth?"
Paul nodded.
"Why was he after the core, Paul?"
"Whoever has the core, controls the ship — controls the passenger list. There's been a lot of debate over the years about who gets to go. The Ange are... complicated. There's the Ange, and then there's the Daémon, or Ange born Dark, as their called."
Ange born Dark. In Xavier's letter he'd said that he was born Dark. "Ange and Daémon." Gen, shifted her position, trying to keep her brain from erupting into hysterics — being tired helped. "You're talking Angels and Demons."
"Um... Yeah," Paul let out a breath he'd been holding.
"Nick once told me he was part Demon. I thought it was a figure of speech."
Paul suppressed a laugh. "I'm afraid not. Nick is descended from a Daémon; I'm a descendant of an Ange. Star Souls are those whose Ange or Daémon ancestor is more than three generations back. Less than that are called New Souls, like Marcus, they tend to have more Ange qualities."
"What's the difference between an Ange and a Daémon?"
"Not a lot. They're a different race, same solar system but different planets. But mostly their differences are ideological. Which, not unlike the history of Earth meant that they were at war with each other a lot. Eventually one side won, the Ange. They decreed that there was only one race in the Aeon, and they were all going to be called Ange from now on, but because it's forbidden for Ange and Daémon to breed with each other, the Daémon are required to classify themselves as being born Dark."
"That doesn't sound very united."
"David calls it verbal genocide."
"It is. I mean, if they were truly uniting, why not keep their cultures and call themselves Aeonians? I mean isn't that really what they all are?"
Paul broke into a broad smile.
"What?"
"Nothing. You're just... brilliant, that's all."
"My father is an Ange, isn't he?"
The smile left Paul's face.
"And my mother is a Daémon."
"Yes."
"And I'm their forbidden offspring."
"An Angemon, born of Royal blood, you are the first of your kind. You're stuff of prophecy and legend. You are the Aeon Princess," Paul explained. "Fundamentally, the Ange and Daémon don't get along with each other, so as soon as they realized they were going to be on earth for a while they split up. Most of the Daémon settled in Northern California, most of the Ange went to Europe. After so many years of infighting it was hoped that Prince Auberon and Princess Xavier would be able to mediate a truce. They locked away the core, until an agreement could be settled on. It sort of worked — up until they fell in love with each other. That's when your mother resigned, and transferred her title to Lewis Xavier. Xavier's fierce opposition to Gerard, helped restore some balance to the hierarchy. And over the past 20 years it's been Xavier keeping things in check between the Ange, the Daémon and the Star Souls; bringing balance."
"Then why did they kill him?"
"Xavier realized that balance could exist without the Ange and the Daémon being in opposition. That's why your parent's entrusted you to him. Over time, many have come to accept this, but there are a still many who don't."
"And... Nick is one of them?"
"No. That's just it. Nick isn't one of them. But he's caught up in the history that says Angemon are..."
"Monsters."
"Being an Angemon doesn't make you a monster; it makes you a being with extraordinary powers and abilities. How you use them is entirely up to you."
She averted her eyes.
"Don't do that. Your actions were in self-defense."
"Do you know what Nick was researching in Italy?"
"I know," Paul said quietly.
"He didn't find an answer."
"That's a good thing."
"I know the answer."
Paul nodded. "I understand
."
She met his eyes and they shared a look.
"You should get some sleep. Do you want me to stay with you?"
She shook her head.
Paul lingered for a moment, before saying goodnight and reminding her that he was just across the hall and always close by in case she needed anything.
Jennifer Anne Hollis's brief life, full of friends and work and freedom and love, meandered through her thoughts as she was drifting off to sleep, and with its last tragic, beautiful, and love-filled breath, died.
Goodbye Jennifer Anne Hollis.
Chapter 30
Call And Answer
Sleep came eventually, bringing a new nightmare.
Shawn Weston.
"Lucy," he kept saying to her. "I was all she had."
She kept telling him how sorry she was for what had happened, but it didn't seem to matter to him, all that mattered was Lucy.
A gentle wrapping on the door woke her, and the fourth beautiful blond, whose name she didn't know, entered. Her long golden hair was braided at the sides. She wore a white miniskirt and a pale pink top. She held a familiar set of clothes in her arms and was clicking away with both thumbs on a phone cupped in her hands.
Gen sat up, gripping her sore shoulder — the right one of course. It ached all the way to the bone, and the pain radiated outward down her arm, and into her chest and back. It wasn't worse than the pain had been the day before, just different.
"Good morning," said the blond, pulling her attention away from her phone and smiling only after it had been securely stowed in her pocket. "I'm Kara."
"Morning," Gen returned. "What time is it?"
"Eight AM," Kara informed, placing Gen's clothes on the edge of the bed. "David asked me to assist you this morning and requests a meeting with you in his office."
"Okay." Gen kicked her legs off the edge of the bed. She'd slept in her clothes, and they had become twisted and misaligned during the night. She tried to discreetly reposition everything, without obviously grabbing hold of anything as she tugged uselessly at her bra strap. "I'm just going to go—" Gen motioned toward the bathroom.
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