The room behind the Council Chamber is much smaller, but still pretty big. At least it has normal electrical lighting and is a simple square shape. There are a bunch of buffet tables in groups of three or four, all covered in various foods like mini sandwiches, and fruits and veggie platters and the like. There’s a coffee station too and some juice to the side of it.

And in between all of that are many circular tables with simple chairs around them. In the centre of each table are condiment sets as well as napkin holders. The napkins are, you guessed it, maroon in colour.

The fuck?

The stark contrast to earlier is unsettling. And seriously? All of this for one meeting? A little extravagant if you ask me.

“Keep in mind this room is also ability-proof. Not only that, but there’s a strong sound barrier here that prevents noises from carrying very far. This allows you privacy in your conversations. So please feel free to mingle as you like.”

“And if I don’t like?”

I give her some serious side eye that she doesn’t seem to be expecting. Probably because I was acting so well earlier. Che, this bitch still hasn’t realized how badly she and her bro fucked up before. What it cost her.

She’ll know soon enough.

She seems to pout a little and signs. “Oh, Kara. I do hope you’ll come to like us eventually. Even just a little.” Then she saunters over to the desert trays.

Whatever, lady. That future is already impossible. At least for you. Your mask slipped, and I saw who you are.

I look around. Everyone is in their own little groupings, mostly the same ones from the diorama of chaos from earlier in the meeting. Mrs. Lockwood and Jordan are together with the fake homeless man and his maybe-brother. The group of six they had been arguing with are all together, made up of four unknowns and two wish-I-didn’t-knows, René and his dad.

Mr. Long and his maybe-daughter are hanging out with the sketchy psychiatrist and her, I dunno, probably her fashion protégé. Stupid Boy David and Jordan are sitting together in a corner and- oops, Jordan caught me looking and now he’s left out of a side door. David is now all alone, poor baby.

Anyways, Spencer cares about his son’s loneliness as much as I do and is walking around and talking to one person after another and not staying in one spot. Seems exhausting.

The family members of the traitorous Martha and the old geezers most definitively related to that creep pretending to love my mom are also all together.

I’ll deal with them at some point.

There’s a large group of eight people, including Clifford and Daddy Flanagan as well as the four people they’d been boxing with earlier, seems they’re friends now, or, again, and the middle-aged man with the bad vibes is also in there with his maybe-daughter.

The wanderer and his buddy who isn’t as ordinary as he appears are sitting together quietly. The weirdo is eating a large Subway sandwich which did not come from any of the buffets, so was probably in his backpack just like the chips from earlier. Is… is that all he has in there? Food? Chips, I can understand but he had a whole footlong sandwich is there? Yeesh. The guy with the glasses is beside him, delicately eating cucumber slices using a toothpick.

No one is paying me much mind. At least not obviously. Only one person seems to be as disinterested in all of this as I am. Rodney’s dad is standing in a corner, one hand in his pocket and one holding a Styrofoam cup of coffee he doesn’t seem to be drinking. I walk over.

He doesn’t notice me right away.

“Excuse me.” He looks up and does a double take, almost spilling his coffee. “Sorry, sir. But are you Rodney’s father?”

He’s a chubby man who isn’t much taller than me, with black hair like his son that he wears slicked back. His face right now shows confusion and an unmistakable sadness, but I get the feeling he isn’t usually very expressive. I get a distant feeling from him. I remember Rodney seemed excited about his dad going to his swim meet. Maybe he usually didn’t bother to.

Does he regret that now?

I’ll admit I don’t have a lot of sympathy for absent fathers, considering my own, but I can muster at least a little for this guy. He stood up for me back when Detective Idiot decided to torch our relationship. And, well, he’s Rodney’s dad. I owe Rodney a lot so the least I can do is show is his dad some respect.

Of course, if his dad betrays me, that’ll be the end of that. I’m no saint. But I’ll give the guy a chance for now.

“Yes, I am. Was. But- but how would you- how do you know Rodney?” He mutters. It’s hard to tell if he’s talking to me or himself. “Or did you see the news, ah right, you mentioned two… two murdered, uh, children, so you already knew-”

Okay now he’s drawling. We’re far away from anyone else. And while we’re getting a few curious looks, I don’t think anyone can hear us.

I’d tested it out while walking over here, and even though I was walking fairly close to some groups to get here, I couldn’t hear what those people were saying. Seems this is one thing the Queen of Nitwits didn’t lie about.

I decide not to beat around the bush too much. To just get out with it.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Lord Romano. He was a nice kid. A good person.”

“No. This is impossible. He would have told me if he’d met you.”

He looks more guarded now than confused.

“Ah, but we did meet. Very recently. In fact, I wouldn’t be here right now without his help. I owe him a debt.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

But I think he does.

His hand holding the Styrofoam cup is shaking so I gently hold his arm and look him right in the eyes and give him a sad smile. A genuine smile.

“I wish I’d known him when he was alive.”

“Oh my god.” Mr. Romano slumps against the wall and his hand is now shaking so much I have to grab his cup from him. There are tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” I put his cup on the nearby table. “I just wanted you to know what he did. He saved me and helped me, way more than David did. I wouldn’t have made it back without him.”

I talk while leading him over to the table and get him settled into a chair.

“You saw him in that place.”

I can’t hear him very well; his hand is covering his mouth. I think he’s in shock. I suppose I should have anticipated this and offered him a chair first. Oops. By ‘that place’ I assume he means Limbo.

“Yes. Limbo, or at least that’s what the billboard said. He told me how to find the Spirit Chamber. And he jumped in front of a Spirit Advisor who wanted to stop me from getting there. He comforted me when I realized I’d died. He was a good person, and what happened to him was terrible. Unforgivable.”

“That sounds just like him.” There’s a strong sense of longing in his voice.

“I also wanted to thank-you for trying to stand up for me back there.”

“What? Oh, that- yes, well, I understand what he was trying to do but that was not- he shouldn’t have gone about it that way. You’re welcome.”

What he was ‘trying to do?’ Other than piss me off? Eh, oh well, whatever his reasons, I’m still grateful to Mr. Romano.

Rodney’s dad wipes tears from his eyes then beckons me closer. He’s suddenly gotten serious. I move my chair close enough to not draw attention.

“When- when you were… there did he- did he you tell you anything about what happened to him? Anything at all?”

I wonder how much I should say.

“He told me some things. I also saw some things that may or may not be connected.”

Lord Romano’s face is stern, set like a stone. “Please tell me everything. Anything you know.”

“Uh, well first I should tell you it was quick. Rodney said he didn’t even realize he was dead until he got to Limbo. He didn’t suffer. Um, I mean, that’s kinda obvious since he was shot in the head and all, but-”

“No. Thank-you.” He sighs.

“Also, not really important but um, as his dad you should know he was excited that you were going to attend his swim meet.”

He doesn’t say anything but stiffly nods. So I continue.

“Okay, well, as for the more important stuff… First off, he didn’t tell me a lot, and just before he separated, he told me he wasn’t fully honest with me because I said his murderers should end up being caught eventually and he said they wouldn’t and, uh, hoo…”

I take a deep breath. I don’t know why but this is more difficult than I thought it’d be. Luckily, Romano is patient and waits for me to keep going.

“So, what he did say is, he said someone he thought was a friend did it. And mentioned a rivalry for an apprenticeship. He said both he and this friend both wanted to go to the same college, and there was a summer apprenticeship. Something about a scholarship, too. Um, but he said that wasn’t everything about it. He said his dad and his friend’s dad were also rivals? More importantly he said his murderer told him that ‘he needed to stop interfering’ and he didn’t know what he meant by that. Because there were other opportunities, and the murderer didn’t need the scholarship. Oh, and it was a guy because he used ‘he’ to describe him. And yeah…”

I trail off while I consider whether I should mention the weird shadow or not. “Also, on the news broadcast about the incident, I saw uh… well it might not have been anything, really, I was on a lot of drugs cause I just died and all…”

I bite my lip. What if the shadow thing is nonsense? Even if its not, what if he thinks it is?

“What did you see?”

Lord Romano’s eyes are nearly bulging out of their sockets now. At some point while I was talking, he’d sat up straight again and had gotten very invested.

Well, I mean, it has to do with his dead son, so I guess that’s to be expected.

“It really is kind of ridiculous and I’m not totally sure it was what I thought it was, but-”

“No, your eyes are special. You have the Sight.”

“Sorry, what now?”

“Hm, so you don’t even know such basic things.”

His words are harsh, but his tone is not, and I can tell he’s concerned, and not looking down on me.

“Yeah, Rodney thought I was an Exile, then he thought I was something called a Lost One? To be fair I didn’t even know I was a Shifter yet. Actually,” I can’t hold back a chuckle, “When we first met, he demanded to know if I was a spectre.”

“That-” his voice catches. “That sounds even more like him.” He doesn’t fully smile, but the corners of his mouth raise a little.

The moment passes and his face becomes stoic again.

“Back when you thought you were a Wisewoman,” he uses the dated term, “did you think you were a Sensitive?”

“I did, yeah. Turns out I’m just a Shifter.”

“No. That isn’t a Shifter thing.”

“What?”

“Mutants can Sense other Mutants. That’s because we can Sense the Spiritual Power around us, in us, and in other people. Otherwise, how could we use it? No, but you, I knew it when you mentioned the ash trees. We can’t Sense stuff like that. In fact, it’s very easy to block the ordinary and extraordinary senses we do have, that’s why there’s so many laws about it. But you could Sense them. There’s going to be a lot that you can see and feel that others can’t. So please, tell me, what did you see?”

“Um,” he’s looking at my eyes, like not at me but my eyeballs, like they’re a fancy bracelet or something precious like that. It’s kinda awkward. “So, after I woke up, they… were showing a rerun of a news segment about… about Rodney. It was an interview with his coach? And while they were talking, uh, well right before that ended and they went back to the newsroom there was this brief moment where I saw something, something very odd. Like out of a fairy-tale.”

“I remember that interview; it wasn’t even a day after- I didn’t see anything. I’ve combed over everything related to this, what did you see?”

He’s almost falling off his seat now.

“I saw a shadow where there shouldn’t have been. Moving in a way mere shadows don’t. It looked like it was leaving the gym.”

“A shadow.”

“Yes.”

“Moving like it was alive?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Leaving the crime scene.”

“Basically.”

He grabs my shoulders, and his grip is strong, wow. “Thank-You.”

Then he takes his coffee from my hands, chugs in, slaps the cup back down, and starts walking away. I’m too bewildered to move. But he turns back, shoving what looks like a business card into my hands. I discreetly shove it into a pocket.

“You know, I can see why he’d like you. Whatever happens, you have an ally in me.” Then he hurries out of the room through a side door that looks like it leads to a thin, two-way hallway.

Wish I could pull a disappearing act, too. But I probably can’t leave as I like.

Scratch that, leaving is defo off the table.

“What was that about?”

I flinch. Pins and needles cover my skin. The giant found me.

“Nothing that concerns you.” I walk over to the veggie trays because it’s the only table with no people. But he follows me.

“How do you know Lord Romano?”

“You must have missed the part where the Question-and-Answer Session closed. You should pay more attention.”

“How do you know Lord Romano?”

“You know it’s super creepy when you do that?”

“How-”

“I don’t. Literally just met the dude.”

The only food here I can possibly swallow are maybe the cucumber slices if I scrape the outsides off with my nails.

“It didn’t look like it. Looked like he took a shine to you. He doesn’t like many people.”

“I don’t blame him. I also haven’t met many people I like since moving to this dump you call a city.”

“Kara-”

“I expressed condolences for Rodney’s death. Guess he was appreciative. I was also appreciative of his attempt to save me from your cruel attempt to humiliate me in public. So yeah, I guess we got on. Thick as thieves, he and I. Happy? Or are you just jealous?”

Other than narrowing his eyes, he ignores my quip. “How did you know he was Rodney’s father?”

I’m so sick of his interrogations.

“I told you not to talk to me. I also asked you to stop treating me like an idiot.”

“I’m not-”

“Rodney’s picture was on the news. They have the exact same eyes. The only empty seat in that place was beside him.” I take a small bite of cucumber and force it down. “Stop acting like I’m stupid. I already dislike you enough as it is.”

“Impressive.”

Great, more people. The Blackfoot who likes to spy on others for funsies has decided to join us.

“We’ve got another detective in the making, here.”

“If you guys think that a fifteen-year-old child with basic reasoning skills is impressive then all I can say is, I can see how Mikey here got hired.”

His laugh is short but boisterous.

“And I’m not a detective. And even if I were, I wouldn’t work for you.”

Although I do like the idea, I don’t like him. He’s suddenly all jovial while he looked so stern and emotionless in the meeting. He might just be the fakest person of the lot.

“What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have a bus to catch, or something?”

He ignores my jibe. “Don’t sell yourself short, little missy. Not a lot of people could put all that together and get the right answer. I wonder what else you’ve figured out.”

His tone isn’t accusatory, but it still puts me on guard. His eyes now are sharp. Looks like this man might just have a functional brain inside his skull.

“Like I told the detective, nothing that concerns you.”

He grins. “I’ve always appreciated that spunk of yours.”

Does he have any idea how creepy that is? Saying that to someone you’ve been stalking? He shouldn’t know anything about me. Everything he knows was from espionage.

“Well, I’d rather you appreciated it from a distance. From some shady hidey place a few yards away. You know, like before?”

He laughs loudly and briefly again, then extends his hand to me. “I am Apisi. My younger brother over there is called Kitchi. Our family name is Walters. I work closely with Detective Michael.”

I know he’s trying to be nice, or polite at least, but it’s too creepy and I’m not taking his hand. Why should I care about any of that? I just want all this weirdness to be over for the day.

“Never asked for an introduction. Don’t care. And besides, you should be more careful about giving out your name to your creditor.”

He looks amused as he withdraws his hand, instead of embarrassed like a normal person. “Oh?”

“You owe me at least twenty dollars.”

Another laugh. But I’m not joking. Seriously. This fucker had no moral qualms about wrongfully obtaining spare change from a teenage girl he was spying on.

“You’re not wrong, missy. Unfortunately, I never bring my wallet to these things. Perhaps you’ll be generous, and I can pay you back another time?”

“There won’t be one. Keep your money. Consider it severance pay.”

“Hm, well, how about I make a small dent in it at least, yeah?” He pulls out a cheap, dollar store notepad with a stubby pencil attached via a string and resting in the coils.

“Take this at least. It’s all I got on me.”

Uh huh.

“That’s really not necessary-” The bastard tosses it to me, so I have no choice but to catch it. Right. Fine. I guess I still have a small amount of pocket space left. Jeeze. But people need to stop giving me random crap. Women’s clothes don’t have big enough pockets for that.

“Thanks for the shitty dollar store notebook. Now you only owe me $19.50. I’m gonna go now.”

I roll my eyes at them, grab a handful of cucumbers, and leave the two idiots alone. I manage to catch a ‘sharp tongue, that one, eh?’ from Apisi before I’m out of earshot.

The strangeness of everything isn’t lost on me. These people, just moments ago, were all grim faced and serious. Some were even at each other’s throats for a bit there. But here they all are, eating chips and dip and tiny, greasy, sandwich buns, laughing and chatting as if nothing had really happened.

At least, that’s how it looks. But I don’t need my powers to sense that there’s something off in the air here. Out of the corner of my eyes I keep catching dark looks being exchanged between certain sets of people, either obviously or at their backs. As well as other more friendly looks being briefly exchanged between people, while standing in different groupings. I don’t know what’s going on under the surface, but I know it’s not nothing.

Despite how things appear, a lot has happened. In a short while. My brain is fuzzy, achy almost, from processing all this information with limited battery. I’m about at the end of my rope here. These people might not realize it, but I almost died less than a week ago? No normal person would be expected to walk around this much. All I want is to leave and not have to talk to anyone else.

But this is me we’re talking about, in case you forgot. I didn’t even realize I was in a corner until I… got cornered. By René and his father.

And for some reason that pit in my stomach, the one that tells me when something is wrong and I’ve forgotten something, is rumbling around in my gut again.

Just kill me now.