The Gryphon Project

by Carrie Mac

Again, he didn’t rise to her words. “I want you to trust me. Give me a week, and if things haven’t been sorted out by then, I’ll tell you what I know.”

  “Gryph hasn’t got a week.”

  “He’ll get the extension.” He was referring to the Chrysalis policy of permitting the stasis period to be extended for up to ten days.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do. He’s Chrysalis’s poster boy. They’re not going to let him die. Not for real.”

  “What if they want to make an example of him?” Phee voiced one of the bigger worries that had kept her awake over the past few nights. “What if they want to prove to people that there’s no special treatment for celebrities?”

  Instead of answering her, Tariq rose from his seat. “I have to go.”

  “Where?” Phee leaped up too and reached for him. She caught his wrist as he turned. “I want to come with you.”

  “No.” He pulled away easily. “I’ll call you. In the meantime, Phoenix, you have to trust me.” For the first time since meeting him that afternoon, she saw his expression shift, letting in the smallest hint of concern as he stared hard at her. “Do you? Trust me?”

  In the moment, Phee wished she could deny him. But the truth was that out of all of Gryph’s friends, she probably trusted Tariq the most.

  “I do.” Phee nodded. “Trust you.”

  She was so tired that her head felt like a bowling ball on her shoulders, too heavy. That one nod took the last bit of energy out of her. Her day had been so bizarre, and so scary. And everything was so unsettled, and she didn’t know anything at all for sure. And her worry for Gryphon—and now Saul too—gnawed at her constantly. She wasn’t sure she could carry on. She let her chin drop to her chest and stared at the smooth tabletop. She was so tired that she just wanted to curl up on it, go to sleep, and wake up later to find everything as it should be.

  RULING

  While Phee was overwhelmed with the complexity of it all, Nadia was finding her own sort of comfort within her own world of denial. Phee wished she could exchange her curiosity and need to know with Nadia’s complacent denial. Phee had worried about what Nadia would think about Saul’s disappearance, but as it turned out she didn’t need to explain a thing. Nadia made her own assumptions about Saul and his family’s disappearance. As hard as it was to watch her friend suffer, Phee forced herself to keep her discoveries to herself. There was no mention of the raid on his house in the media, no mention of the family’s sudden, unexplained disappearance. After a couple of days of not hearing from him, Nadia had three ideas she was batting back and forth.

  “If he wanted to break up with me, he could’ve just said!” Another swell of tears as she threw herself on Phoenix’s bed. Phee sat cross-legged beside her and patted her back, not daring to comment. The flaw in this version according to Nadia was that his entire family was gone. Another few minutes passed, and Nadia had flipped to her second idea. “Or if this is how he deals with death, he’s got a thing or two to learn.” And then the final alternative. She sat up and gripped Phee’s hands in hers. “It’s something his father did, I’m sure of it. Fraud. Tax evasion. They’re in hiding. He’ll contact me. I know it!”

  And the cycle would start again as she vacillated between the scenarios she’d fixed on. Nadia tried her hardest not to let her own crisis overshadow Phee’s family’s ongoing battle with Chrysalis, but often her despair overwhelmed her and she had a small fit every once in a while. Like this one, which was almost over.

  “Phee, I’m sorry.” Nadia pulled Phoenix to her and gave her a tight hug. “I’m awful. Tell me the latest.”

  The latest was not good. “Chrysalis is leaning toward ruling it a suicide—”

  “But they won’t.” Nadia smiled sympathetically. “Not when it comes right down to it.”

  Phee shrugged. “I don’t know, Nadia.”

  “He’s their pride and joy!”

  “Not lately.”

  “That won’t affect their ruling though, right?”

  “I don’t know, Nadia.” Phee wrung her hands in her lap. “I’m going with my parents later. To Chrysalis. And Grandma too. And Auntie Trish, even. They told us to bring as many family members as we could today. Grandpa and Fawn will stay here with Uncle Liam and the twins.”

  “What for?” Nadia paled. This was not lost on her. “There’s one more day, right?”

  “Not if they’ve made the decision already.”

  “Your mom and dad can demand the extension.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Is your lawyer coming?”

  Phee nodded. “Four lawyers. My mom thinks they’re going to rule against him.”

  “Oh, my God.” Nadia dropped her hands into her lap. “This can’t be happening.”

  “It is, though.”

  “Oh, Phee … this is the worst summer in the history of terrible things.”

  “It is.”

  “Do you want me to come too?”

  “I wish, but it’s family and legal team only. Thanks, though.”

  Both girls looked up at the sound of Fawn yelling up from the bottom of the stairs. Nadia hurriedly wiped her teary eyes as Fawn’s graceless steps grew closer. Something sounded clunky in her gait, so Phee wasn’t surprised when she burst into Phee’s bedroom, each foot perched atop the bottom of a large, empty tomato can strung through with twine, which she held tight in her fists, lifting each tin as she stepped in theatrically.

  “Look!” Fawn stomped in a little circle. “Grandma made them. They’re kilts.”

  “Stilts,” Phoenix corrected her. “You mean stilts.”

  “Yeah. Grandma says she and her friends used to make these when they were kids. Can you imagine Grandma as a kid? I can’t. Not at all. She showed me how to use them and I was laughing because she looked so silly in her old lady shoes and big bum and legs with all those purply veins running up and down like worms.”

  Phee was as ever amazed at her little sister’s capacity to set aside the worry about Gryph and carry on, business as usual. She was exhausted just looking at her, and could hardly think of one thing to say other than to scream that their brother was dead and how could she be playing at a time like this.

  “That’s something,” Phee finally managed. “Bizarre for sure. Grandma as a little girl.”

  “With purply leg veins.” Fawn galloped past the girls on the bed. “I bet you can’t walk on these.”

  “I can so. Grandma made them for me too.” Then again, Phee wasn’t sure that she could, come to think of it. There was a picture of her on ones their grandma had made for her, shortly before her second death. But, of course, Phee had no memory. Really, she just wanted one less thing to deal with. Fawn. “Can you leave us alone, Fawn, hon? Please?”

  “Why?”

  “We’re talking grown-up stuff.”

  “You’re not grown-ups.”

  “We are more than you are,” Phee said. She got up and pushed Fawn toward the door. Fawn stumbled off the cans and landed on her knees. She jumped up, rearranged herself on the stilts and fixed Phee with one of her spectacular scowls.

  “You made me fall!”

  “I didn’t. You tripped.”

  “You did! You made me fall.”

  “Fine. I’m sorry.”

  “No you’re not!” Fawn yelled. “I hate you! You’re no fun! Gryphon would’ve played with me. He would’ve tried my kilts out and been goofy and fun and you’re just boring! I wish you’d died and not him!”

  “Fawn!” Nadia gasped. “You little shit—” In one movement Nadia was off the bed and lunging for Fawn. Fawn jumped off her stilts and dodged her. She dragged her cans with her as she backed into the hall.

  “Fawn Nicholson-Lalonde,” Nadia hollered, “you get back here and apologize to your sister!”

  “No! And you’re both boring old meanies, that’s what!” With that, Fawn stomped down the hall into her own room, slamming the door behind her.

  “She’s horrid!” Nadia drape
d an arm across her best friend’s shoulders. “She didn’t mean it.”

  “She probably did.” Phee shrugged. “But that’s okay. I’m kind of relieved, actually. I was honestly beginning to think Gryph’s death had no impact on her whatsoever. That little tantrum proved me wrong. In a good way. Proves the little monster is, in fact, at least partially human.”

  “I’ll go make her apologize.”

  “No. It’s okay. She doesn’t understand. It’s not her fault.”

  “She can at least say she’s sorry for being such a little toad about it, though.”

  “Nah.” Phee retreated to the bed and flopped backwards. When all of this was over, no matter how it played out, she would pay more attention to Fawn. Right now, though, she was too worried about the meeting that afternoon with Chrysalis to even go down the hall and try to explain things to her scared and angry little sister.

  THE CHRYSALIS HEADQUARTERS took up four square blocks in the section of the city designated for science and technology. The SciTech District was a lesson in building with steel and glass, the towers and warehouses alike gleaming with a sterile brightness that gave Phoenix a chill as they made their way to Chrysalis in one of their private shuttles, the logo on the side as good as advertising their grief. The mood in the shuttle was sombre, with the lawyers seated along one wall, silent and stiff, and Phee’s family along the other, trembling with worry, patting knees and whispering empty assurances to one another.

  “Don’t you worry, dear.” Phee’s grandma handed her yet another hard candy, which Phee tucked away in her pocket, along with the others her well-intentioned and undeniably nervous grandma had foisted on her during the trip. “Everything will be just fine.”

  Phee tried to smile back, but knew her face had contorted into the opposite expression, producing a pained sort of frown. She caught one of the lawyers watching her, so she gave the man her full attention, daring him to keep on with his prying curiosity. He blushed and turned his eyes down, fixing them on the briefcase carefully balancing on his lap.

  The shuttle dock was built into the expansive glass foyer of Chrysalis itself. Phoenix did not recall ever being here, although she had been in this very building for the duration of her recons. When she stepped out of the shuttle, her eyes went straight to a lush wall of green. One whole end of the foyer was an enormous wall crawling with cascading ivy and thick ferns and waterfalls of periwinkle dotted with nasturtiums. Instead of being surprised at such an incongruous sight, she smiled, happy to see it again. Then she caught herself, marvelling. She did remember the living wall, as it was called, the vertical garden that knitted itself all the way up to the ceiling. She remembered it from leaving, waiting for the provided shuttle after her last recon when she was six. She went up to the wall while the others behind her signed in and passed around the visitor tags. Phee ran her hand over a spray of feathery fern and breathed in the earthy perfume. A surge of optimism cheered her, and when she rejoined the others, she took her grandmother’s hand and whispered, “You’re right. It will be okay.” There was no way that they would refuse to recon Gryphon. No way.

  Her father took her other hand, and with her mother and auntie holding hands in front of them, they were led like so many wary tourists down an echoing hall lined with windows on either side, the sunlight pouring in despite the group’s sombre mood. At the end of the hall was a lounge, and this is where they were left, with the lawyers, to wait for the Chrysalis executive who’d arranged the meeting. There was a table of snacks to one side of the door, a spread of fresh fruit and expensive cheeses, pâté, and croissants alongside silver carafes of tea and coffee and a pitcher of orange juice with slices of orange floating on top.

  “It’s like the continental breakfast at Hôtel l’Atelier,” Eva muttered none too kindly. “As if any of us could eat.”

  The family maybe not, but the lawyers were convening around the buffet, stacking muffins and fruit atop dainty china plates and talking quietly among themselves, casting glances back at Phoenix and her relatives every once in a while.

  “Hôtel l’Atelier?” Auntie Trish said, to fill the gaping silence.

  “Oscar and I and the children stayed there, in Paris.”

  “Ah.” Auntie Trish nodded. “That time you went to the medical conference.”

  The sisters fell into silence with the others while the lawyers eagerly grazed.

  Suddenly, the door swept open and in stalked a pair of Chrysalis executives, a matching set, both women wearing pointy black high-heeled shoes and smart pantsuits, without the jackets, as if to convey a casual friendliness, approachability. Behind them by a royal couple of steps came Lex, and with him the rep who’d been to the house almost a week earlier, and bringing up the grim parade was Lex’s assistant, Aggie. She was the only one of the party to look each family member in the eye, offering them a small, conciliatory smile.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Nicholson-Lalonde,” the first woman said, arm extended. “You’ve been offered tea? Coffee? How have you been managing since we last met?”

  Phee narrowed her eyes at the woman. So this was who her parents had been meeting with since Gryph’s death. And her colleague, who was giving orders to Aggie discreetly, their heads together. Aggie scurried off, catching Phee’s eye as she did. Phee tried to read her look, but couldn’t, and wasn’t sure Aggie was trying to send her a message anyway. She did seem relieved to be sent away on whatever errand it was.

  Phoenix and her family had been huddled together on two loveseats, ignoring the expanse of furniture available to them in the room. With a glance, the second woman asked Lex to bring chairs for them, and soon they were sitting across from the family, with only the sleek coffee table as a buffer between them. The lawyers positioned themselves in a lounge chair each, two on either side of the family. They remained silent and official-looking, waiting for Eva or Oscar to bring them into the discussion, their laptops open and ready on low tables beside them.

  “Thank you for coming down today.” The first woman was clearly the communicator, the other woman the overseer. While the first woman talked, she leaned over and whispered something to Lex, and he got up and quickly returned with two boxes of tissue, which he slid onto the coffee table. “Let’s get started.”

  “As some of you may know, I am Nora Hueson, executive director of recon services. And my colleague”—here she gestured to the second woman—“is Tamara Shapiro, executive director of client relations. Lionel Campbell, your client liaison officer. You know Lex, of course.”

  Eva nodded for everyone, while Oscar offered Lex a more familiar smile.

  Hueson leaned forward, hands clasped, trying—Phee assumed—for an intimacy she was not going to get in return from the family. “We’ve asked you to come down today so we can discuss, in person, recent developments with the decedent’s file.”

  “Gryphon,” Phee blurted without thinking. “His name is Gryphon Nigel Nicholson-Lalonde.”

  Shapiro blinked kindly at Phee while Hueson carried on. “We have some reports to share with you.”

  Lex handed a stack of pods to the family, including Phee’s grandmother, who hadn’t ever figured out how to use them. “You can follow along with me as I go over it on the screen.”

  Eva and her sister shared a grim look. Oscar clutched his wife’s hand, not touching the pod set in front of him. Phee tapped the screen of hers, and the swirling Chrysalis logo, a helix that rebuilt itself over and over, brightened the little screen. The lights in the room dimmed, and the same image appeared on the wall opposite the couches. The lawyers shuffled their positions for a better view. Phee’s heart sank. This wasn’t going in any direction that could be called good.

  “Starting with the data transfer from the decedent’s logger,” Hueson said, referring to the tiny microchip imbedded into all citizens shortly after birth that recorded vital signs in a ten-minute loop, and also notified Chrysalis immediately upon death. She aimed a laser pointer at a column of numbers to one side of the image. “Thes
e are the epinephrine and norepinephrine levels produced by the adrenergic nerve terminals in the autonomic nervous system in the moments leading up to the time of death. You’ll notice the elevated levels were consistent over a period of nine minutes and forty seconds before the incident.”

  “Accident,” Phee said, adding as much heft to the one word as she could.

  Another placating smile from the Shapiro woman.

  “These findings are in line with research that indicates people experiencing heightened sensations not typically consistent with a genuine ‘accident’—”

  PHEE BLANKED OUT the woman’s voice. With Hueson droning on about this number and that level of whatever chemical indicator, Phee took a moment to consider exactly what was happening. By now she was sure they were here for bad news, and that any moment Hueson and Shapiro would announce that Chrysalis would not be reconning her brother.

  And then what? Phee could feel her pulse quicken at the thought, and tried to calm herself. And then … then the lawyers would make themselves useful and demand an extension. They’d take Gryphon’s case to arbitration. It would only mean he’d be gone a little longer. He’d miss the X Games, but maybe Saul would be back by the time he was. Phee smiled to herself. It was easy, in a way, to imagine Saul and Gryph off on some big adventure. Except, she reminded herself, that wasn’t the case at all. Gryph was being kept in stasis somewhere in the labyrinth of this facility, and Saul was God knows where.

  “—oxygen in the blood was also indicative of a wilful action in the moments before the incident.”

  “Spare us, please.” Phee’s mom broke in. “I’m sure I speak not only for myself but for all of us sitting here listening to you blathering on with your ‘findings.’” Hueson sat back a little in her chair, knowing full well that she was about to receive the ire of a grieving mother. Clearly she’d been to this very place before, if not often.

  “Perhaps we should take a little break?” Hueson offered.

  “Or perhaps,” Eva snapped back, “you could just tell us Chrysalis’s decision so that we can arrange ourselves accordingly.”