“What’s the latest on the campaign posters?”

“I sent the final design to the printer yesterday, and they should be with us by the end of the week.”

“Perfect. And has everyone RSVPed to the dinner?”

“Yes, sir, every table is full.”

“Wonderful, wonderful.”

Mr Graves tented his hand, delicately placing his fingertips on the window pane. The prints of his fingers squelched under the pressure.

"Goodness me, the rose bushes do need a good pruning, don't they? Maybe we ought to find a more competent gardener."

“Daddy?” a cautious voice said from outside the office door.

“What do you want, Cecily?” Mr Graves sighed.

“Oh, I was just wondering if you wanted to watch a film with me.” She pushed the door open and poked her head in through the crack. “NetFilms just released some new stuff, and I thought you might like to see—”

“Cecily, do you remember the rule? If the office door is closed, it means—”

“…you’re working, I know. Never mind then. Sorry.”

“I don’t understand why you’re thinking about films anyway, you should be concentrating on revision. Do you know how many cheques I’ve had to send to that school to keep you from getting suspended after all your outrageous behaviour recently? If you fail these exams, who knows how much I’ll have to plump up to save you from getting kicked out or held back a year. So go and revise, please.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Cecily said quietly, closing the door behind her.

“Where were we, Jones?”

“The dinner, sir.”

“Ah yes. So the event organiser confirmed that we'll have a PA system, microphones, screens for my presentation, et cetera?”

“Yes sir, it’s all sorted.”

“Wonderful. Simply wonderful.” He turned to lean gently onto the pane, pressing the pads of his chubby hands onto the surface.

“I’m going to head out now, sir. I have that meeting with the investors this evening.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Jones. You may see yourself out.”

“Thank you, sir. See you tomorrow.”

Jones collected his briefcase and blazer.

“Oh, and Jones?”

“Yes, Mr Graves?”

“Tell one of the housekeeping staff to give these windows some attention. They’re filthy.”

#

Cecily sat, pyjamaed and cross-legged on her bed, mindlessly flicking the screen of her netpad, barely even looking at the images and articles that appeared from one side of the screen and disappeared into the other. She sighed audibly, and leaned back into the symmetrical arrangement of hard pillows that spanned the top end of her double bed.

Without warning, Mrs Graves burst into the room, holding a bundle of evening dresses in plastic sheaths. “Why are you already in pyjamas? It’s only 7 pm.”

“Just felt like being comfy.”

“Bedclothes before bedtime is awfully slobbish, Cece, you know that. It’s hardly surprising Eli dumped you. Boys don’t like lazy girls, you know. Come and stand over here, please.” She hung up all the gowns on a rack that Cecily hadn’t even noticed had been placed in the room. “All right, try this one,” she handed her daughter a deep red prom dress with an oversized bow on the back. Without a word, Cecily stripped to her underwear and stepped into the dress.

Mrs Graves grimaced. “Oh no, not a good length for you. Cuts off your calves completely, makes you look chunky.”

She held out the next dress.

“No. I forgot you don’t look good in navy. Never mind, let’s try the next one.”

Her mother unwrapped the next dress from its protective jacket, and Cecily wriggled into it with a grunt.

“It’s too small.”

“Darn, so it is. Have you gained weight? The tailor can probably let out the sides a little, though if you’re gaining weight, we should really get that in check. That said, I think this is the dress.”

“Isn’t it a bit much?” Cecily frowned at herself in the mirror. “It’s bright gold.”

“It’s not gold, darling—it’s bronze. And it’s Daddy’s big night, remember? We have to look our best. There’s going to be a lot of very influential young men there too, so it’s in your best interest to look as good as possible.”

“Okay,” Cecily mumbled, pulling her teddy bear pyjamas back on.

“Let's see if we can't tone up those thighs a little, hmm? And, really, Cecily,” Mrs Graves pinched the underside of her daughter’s arm, “you’re too young for bingo-wings like this. Sort it out, please. We have a gym here; it’s ridiculous for you to be letting yourself get like this. I’ll arrange a personal training session for you tomorrow morning, so be in the gym at 8 am. Don’t be late.”

Mrs Graves bundled up the dresses and stomped out of her daughter’s bedroom, leaving the door wide open and the hanging rack empty once again.

Cecily collapsed onto the heavy oak chair at her desk. She folded her legs in the seat that was just wide enough for her knees to graze the antique scroll arms. The top of the desk was bare except for a row of barely-touched schoolbooks.

She thumbed through the shiny leaves of Parapsych Skills in Theory and Practice, stopping at the chapter on flame-control, then reached for one of the scented candles on the shelf above her desk.

She traced the embossed lettering of the word ‘serenity’ on the side of the thick sunset yellow candle before striking a match and torching the virgin wick.

She rested her gaze just above the flame and positioned her hands in front of it, copying the finger formation printed in the textbook.

A sudden thump in the house broke Cecily’s concentration before she had even found it.

Another thump.

Cecily straightened.

A woman’s shriek sounded from somewhere nearby.

Cecily jerked herself up and without thinking raced from her bedroom. The voices of her parents became louder as she hurried down the landing. Cecily stopped outside her father’s home office and listened from outside the ajar door.

“Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?” her mother shouted.

“Because it’s none of your business!”

“I think it is my business if there’s a stranger lurking around my house! What are you up to, Jameson? And you! Who the fuck are you?”

“Don’t speak to him that way.”

“How am I supposed to speak? This is my house!”

“I paid for this house, Elise.”

“Don’t you dare throw that in my face, Jameson. I have a right to know who you’re fraternising with. I mean, here I was, thinking you were just working alone, and then I come in, and suddenly you’re pushing me out of the room so you can be alone with this freak of an old man! And now he’s just standing there looking at me? Hey you! What’s your problem?”

“Elise, step away from him. Elise!”

The loud slap of skin on skin cut through the stillness in Cecily’s ears and she burst into the room.

“Stop!”

“Go to your room, Cecily,” her father warned.

Cecily looked down at her mother, who picked herself up off the floor, her bloody nose dripping onto her white silk blouse.

“Mummy, are you all right?” Cecily stammered.

“I’m fine, Cece, let’s go.”

The door slammed itself shut as Cecily and her mother approached it.

“Don’t leave like this, Elise. Let me explain,” Mr Graves said with a shake of his head. “This is my associate—”

She spat on the ground in front of him. “I don’t care. I’ve had enough of this shit.”

Cecily stood, paralysed by the scene before her. Her mother plugged the back of her hand against the dribble of blood from her nostril. Her father’s fists shook with rage.

She took a step toward her father. “Daddy, please just—”

“Shut up, Cecily!” he shoved his daughter so hard that she fell into a sideboard. A clatter of shattering ornaments rained down over Cecily’s body as she cowered on the ground. Her father didn’t even look at her.

“Listen to me, Elise, he’s on our side!”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about, Jameson.”

Cecily whimpered on the ground as her parents continued their exchange. The strange silent man stepped toward her and looked down curiously. He lifted his arm and Cecily winced, but then realised he was offering his hand to help her to her feet. She reached out and grasped the black leather of his glove, and he took hold of her.

“He’s helping me realise the full extent of my abilities. And eventually, when we win the election, we’ll help others realise their power too.”

“What power? What are you talking about?”

“Parapsychism, Elise. He’s shown me things—amazing things—you wouldn’t even believe it. And when everyone else sees it too, they’ll know.”

“They’ll know what?!”

“That parapsychs will reign.” Mr Graves spoke earnestly and gently.

Cecily stood to her feet with the help of the dark-clothed man. He said nothing but looked into her eyes. She couldn’t look away from his frightful face.

“You’re scaring me, Jameson," Mrs Graves blubbed. “What about the things you used to talk about? Better education for parapsych kids, and support for adults who want to better their abilities.” She gulped out her words between sniffles. “It was all so positive! But recently you've become so closed and morose, and now this? What happened to you?"

“I saw truth, Elise!” he screamed. “He showed me the truth and he showed me what it’s like to feel power coursing through my whole body. I felt airless and electric. Just for a moment, I was invincible. He shared his power with me and showed me what I could cultivate. It’s my duty, Elise! It’s my duty to show them all.”

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m alive!”

“I’m leaving. I’m taking our daughter right now and we are leaving.”

“No.”

“Let go.”

“No.” He gripped tightly on her upper arm.

“Let me go, Jameson!”

“I can’t let you walk out. That’s not part of the plan. You can’t leave me,” Jameson Graves spoke calmly into her face.

“So what, you’ll just keep us here forever?” his wife threw back.

“No, I wouldn’t dream of that,” he smiled. “You see, Elise, you can either be with me and support me, or you just won’t be at all. So I'm going to let you out of this room. But please believe it, the second you try and run away, I will be on you before you even know it. After all, nothing is more sympathetic than a widow. The voters would find me irresistible. I do love you, my darlings. I’m doing this for you, and for us, and for our people. But the plan is in motion now, and I’m afraid there’s no going back.”