Chapter Text
Phillip tried to escape three more times. Once as they were waiting for the elevator. He had waited for her to step inside the lift, then turned and ran toward the exit. She had to tackle him, again, and drag him across the polished tiled floor by his ankles. Then when he requested to use the bathroom, and took a suspiciously long time just to take a piss, so Eloise walked in and caught him trying to climb into the air vent. Then a final time as she had her back turned for one second and suddenly he was sprinting down the hall. He flung open a door—she imagined he was hoping it was the stairwell—so his disappointment at only finding a janitor's closet was understandable. Another tackle. Eloise should have gone into rugby.
Finally, she had him in her personal office. It wasn't a bad set up, really. Spacious, modern, a good view of London below. Her workstation was a dual-monitor mount with a desk that could rise up so she could stand while she worked. Eloise was not one of those department heads that lavished in silly things in her office space, like a putting green or a juicer or an exercise bike.
She did indulge in her own coffee machine, a nice espresso compressor that spilled the smoothest brew that tasted like a turbo charge straight to the heart. That, and one of those little Newton's cradles thingamajigs so she could set it in motion every time Anthony stepped in to talk to her about something. The sound drove him mad. Their meetings were always short.
Phillip did not seem impressed with it in the slightest. If he was an animal instead of a man, he would be chewing the furniture and clawing at the walls.
"So you're just going to keep me here? For how long?" Phillip spat. She already took his phone, dug it out of his pocket under the glare of the gun… which was not loaded. But Phillip didn't need to know that.
Eloise locked the door. "Just until I can get transportation arranged."
Thank god the building was empty. The last thing Eloise needed was one of her researchers, or, heaven forbid, her brothers peeking through the windows at her and this strange man who still looked like he'd just gone through the tumble dry cycle of a laundry machine.
"To where? You still haven't even told me where it is you're dragging me off to!"
Eloise ground her teeth, starting to get a little tired of the constant complaining, and rounded her desk. Pressing a button, the small whir of the desk rising up to meet her, and in the same instant, her monitors blinked on. If she sat down, Eloise knew, she was going to pass out. She was so, so tired.
"Give me a minute," she said, wiggling her mouse to wake up the system. "I need to clean up this mess."
"I've given you more than a minute," Phillip hissed.
Eloise ignored him. She logged on to her desktop, and immediately opened up the Teams app. Her brother's name popped up on the outgoing call. Rang once. Twice. Picked up in the middle of the third ring.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Benedict's words slurred from her speakers.
"It's almost two AM," she answered bluntly. "Ben, I need–"
"HELP!" Phillip yelled from across her desk, planted his hands heavily on the wood and leaned forward. "She forced me here at gunpoint and won't let me leave. I'm being held here against my will. Call the police, call somebody!"
Eloise squeezed her eyes shut. For a long moment, nobody said anything. Happy thoughts, Eloise, happy thoughts.
"Goddammit, Eloise, again?" Benedict barked. He was certainly awake, now.
Eloise jerked. "The fuck do you mean 'again'? I've never done this before!"
From the background of the call, Sophie's tired voice mumbled, "tell your sister to tell her boyfriend to stop screaming."
"Sophie says 'hi', by the way." A ruffle of sound then. Benedict probably getting out of bed and leaving the room.
"Did you not hear what I just said?" Phillip rushed, his voice pitched up in his disbelief. "She kidnapped me!"
"I'm sure she had her reasons," Benedict replied, yawned audibly. "You probably deserved it."
"Are you seriously not going to help me?" Phillip seemed genuinely hurt.
"Sorry, dude. Sisters before misters."
She watched the realization dawn on him. Then, in the next moment, threw his hands up in the air and stomped away from her desk. Eloise let him do whatever it was he needed to do to come to terms with all of this as her monitors sprang to life with activity. He wandered over to the far corner, pacing in a tight circle, spitting and mumbling under his breath.
"So… that was intense," Benedict said.
"You don't know the half of it," Eloise sighed.
"How bad is it?" Benedict asked. He spoke softly, almost gently. Somewhere in that zone between being her brother and being her colleague.
"It's… not ideal. But not completely terrible," she said. No need to worry Benedict with the gruesome details.
Until Phillip screeched from the other side of her office, "Not terrible? We got shot at, Eloise!"
She slammed her fist on the desk. "Will you shut up!"
"Shot at?" Benedict asked, his voice flaring with concern. "El, what the hell happened?"
"Look." Eloise dragged a hand down her face—grimaced at the smears of black paint on her palm, and reached for a tissue. "The long and short of it is that we got the journal, but LifeTech was there, too. Things got a bit dicey. But we're fine. I'm at Aubrey right now, and I just need your help."
Her voice got a little whiny there at the end. Because she had never been shot at before, either. Because she had never had to literally drive like her life depended on it, had never had to drive down into the underground to escape some lunatics with guns. God, her poor bike. The suspension was probably completely shot.
But Eloise didn't have the luxury of getting lost in all of that right now. Right now, she needed to cover their tracks, she needed to miraculously find a plane that would be ready to fly in a few hours, and she needed to let the rest of the team know about the new timeline. She couldn't stop now. And she absolutely would not cry in front of Phillip.
"Alright, Wheez, I'm here," Benedict said. Eloise shook her head at the childhood nickname. But she appreciated it, too. It was comforting. "What do you need me to do?"
Eloise took a deep breath. "Start with the university archives. I don't know if there were security cameras, but there'll at least be an anomalous card swipe from about an hour ago that needs to be scrubbed."
"Got it." His voice came out louder and clearer—he'd switched over to his headset, meaning he was at his home computer. "Mm. Yeah, there's a couple cams, mostly in the halls and the archives themselves. Bad quality. When were you there?"
"Midnight-ish?"
"12:43," Phillip grumbled, sitting cross-legged on the floor, his head in his hands.
"Did you get that?" Eloise asked her computer.
"I got it," Benedict said. "Ah, I see you guys… what the hell are you doing? Why are you creeping around all over the place?"
"I was being stealthy!"
"You should work on that." Eloise rolled her eyes. "Okay, scrubbed that. Now for the archives… holy shit, El."
"Yeah."
"Holy shit, El."
"I know."
"Holy fucking shit, Eloise."
"I know!"
Benedict swore again, sighed a shaky breath. "I'm going to make those fuckers pay."
"Not right now, Ben," she said, sent out the emails she'd been drafting at the same time. The professional equivalent of 'get your asses in gear' to the rest of the team. "Maybe if they got caught on the cams when they came in, but we can't leave any trace of me or Phillip behind."
"Yeah, I get it, but still," Benedict grumbled. "You do realize that in cleaning this up, we're also doing the same thing for them?"
She did realize that. There was nothing they could do about the bullet holes in the archive, or the broken window. Interpol would no doubt still get involved, if only as a perfunctory measurement. It's not like they robbed a bank. Eloise doubted an archive burglary would get too much attention.
Either way, it would buy them time.
"Let's worry about that later," Eloise said, and fished her cell phone out of her pocket. "Next is traffic cams. Start on the nearby campus shots and then, just… follow us from there."
"That's going to take a while," Benedict said. He must have cracked his neck, because Eloise heard it through the line. "But I'm on it."
"Thank you, Benedict," Eloise said. That was the biggest weight off of her shoulders. "Have I told you that you're my favorite sibling?"
"You could stand to tell me a few more times," Benedict said.
A message came back on her phone. Do you know what time it is?
Eloise scoffed. Why did everyone keep asking her that?
A message sent: Can you do it or not?
Dots. No dots. Ellipses. No ellipses. Then, Give me four hours.
Eloise tossed her phone down on her desk. Took a deep breath. Her eyes were starting to sting, just from being awake for so long. She rubbed her knuckles into her brow, watched the blobs of color bloom behind her lids.
"Hey," Benedict's voice said, bringing her back. "You did good."
"Thanks," Eloise chuckled. "Let me know when you're done… and don't tell Anthony."
"Hah, good one." Yeah, Eloise knew Anthony was going to need to know what happened. But some childhood habits die hard. "I'll wait until you're gone, at least."
"Love you, Ben," she said.
"Love you, too, Wheez."
Eloise minimized the window. Looked up. Phillip had gone from sitting down to just flat out lying on her office floor, staring through the ceiling above. She swallowed, shifting on her feet. This was the hard part.
"Alright, Phillip," she said, taking a step away from her desk. "We're all clear–"
"Is this what you guys do?" Phillip bit, didn't even look at her. "Go around breaking the law and then just sweep it all under the rug like a dirty little secret?"
Eloise closed her eyes. Was that a migraine she felt coming on? Yeah, probably.
"Only when it's utterly necessary," she said, trying to stay calm. "And only for good reason."
Phillip made a pfft sound, and sat up. "How convenient."
"At least now you don't have to worry about Interpol getting back to you," she said. "I'm sure that wouldn't go over well in divorce court."
He shook his head. Hefted himself to his feet, and stalked over to her desk.
"Since I've met you, it's been one thing after another." That ire that he'd been shooting at her all night hadn't gone away. If anything, it had only gotten sharper. "I want answers, Eloise, and I want them now."
Her skin prickled. After everything she had done for him, the least he could do was say please.
"Okay," she said, because she was too tired to be riled up right now. Too drained to correct him on his rudeness. "I understand. How about you sit down–"
"No." Phillip crossed his arms.
"Suit yourself." Eloise wandered over to her espresso machine. "I'm gonna have some coffee."
Phillip scoffed. "Still stalling."
God dammit, was he always so insufferable? Eloise rubbed her temple.
"Let me start from the beginning," she said, reaching for the beans.
"What happened to Dr. Wren?" Phillip cut in. "Do you know if he is, in fact, alive?"
Eloise forced a breath into her nose, scooping out the beans, exactly eighteen ounces, and dumped them into the grinder. If he asked her the same goddamn question again, she was going to lose it.
"Three years ago, Aubrey Corp financed Elias Wren's research in Peru," she said. "That was how our interest in the Amritara started, and Wren was the only one who–"
"That was you?"
Eloise turned. Phillip was tense behind her, that ire evolved into something close to rage, boiling around him like a storm cloud. But she saw his agitation for what it really was: fear.
"Yes," she said, collecting the fresh grounds and tapping them out into the portafilter. Her hands worked as she spoke, moving through the grounding ritual of it. "And, as I already told you, his expedition was a success. He found the Tree of Fire. He collected his findings. From what I understand, he was very happy with the outcome, and he was willing to continue the search for the other trees. He really wanted to find that flower. I guess that makes sense. It was his life's work. We had a renewing contract for all of Wren's future possible research. Anything he needed, Aubrey Corp was going to provide."
"So, what, did he change his mind?" Phillip sneered. "He decided you couldn't have it, so you went after his research and made him disappear?"
Good God, where was this coming from? Eloise snapped the portafilter onto the group head with a little more force than necessary. A cup was already waiting under the drip. She continued speaking as though he hadn't said anything.
"Before he even got back to England, we got wind of someone tailing him. Then, his hotel room in Lima was ransacked. Then someone who was on the expedition with him turned up dead. Aubrey Corp made the decision that he wasn't safe. So, we put him under protective supervision, buried his research for the time being and held the findings from the public. We wanted people to believe that he had disappeared and his expedition had failed. Only to get whoever was trying to find him off of his back. He would come back when the danger had passed."
The coffee slowly filled the cup, percolating long and slow, a rich honey brown color and a smell that she imagined was similar to ambrosia from the gods. Her hands were shaking. She quickly hid them.
"Seriously?" Phillip gawked. "You can just make people disappear?"
"It's not ideal, and certainly not protocol." Eloise moved the cup, turned off the water. "But these were harrowing circumstances. It's not like we wanted to flush that money down the drain."
Phillip bristled at that. "Your money? What about Wren? What about his life–"
"We kept him alive," Eloise bit. The cup smacked against the table. "He came with us willingly. He understood what a discovery like this could do in the wrong hands. So we kept him moving around, he helped us find the other trees at the same time, and we tracked anyone and everyone who could possibly gain from his research, which was not a small list, by the way."
"Somehow you still haven't given me a straight answer," Phillip said, his voice raised.
"I'm trying to explain to you that we had no reason to–"
"Is he alive?!" Phillip shouted.
"We don't know!" She yelled right back.
Phillip flinched. For a beat, they stood there in silence, both of them fraying, both of them at the end of a long night that wasn't over yet, and absolutely no cordiality left between them.
"What do you mean you don't know?" Phillip finally asked.
Eloise quickly scrubbed her face as she turned away from him. A moment to regain her composure. She splashed some milk into her coffee, didn't even bother to froth it, and held it in her icy fingers.
"He went missing," she said. "He was supposed to check in at a safe house in New Brunswick. Something he'd done a dozen times before. But he never made it. He slipped our radar somewhere in the Canadian wilderness. I don't know what happened to him, I truly don't. I'm sorry."
Phillip just stood there, his fists clenched, shaking. From anger, from grief, she wasn't sure. He didn't say anything. Eloise took a sip of her coffee. It did nothing to soothe her.
"We learned who was after him, though."
Phillip blinked, a tear falling down his cheek. "Those guys from the archive."
She nodded. "They work for a company called LifeTech. You heard of them?"
"Um… kind of." He bobbed his head side to side.
"They're another conglomerate. Similar to Aubrey, but more… I don't know. Imagine illegal human testing and the kind of experiments that would make Mengele very happy." Eloise let this sink in. "People have tried to expose them. Multiple journalists and whistle blowers. All of them were never heard from again."
"Fucking hell," Phillip muttered. Eloise agreed.
"We can't determine conclusively if LifeTech had a hand in Wren's disappearance. But it's a safe bet. They've been trying to get in on this subject matter for a long time. I didn't realize just how far they would go until they tried to hack into our files. And now this…" Eloise swirled the cup, watched the coffee stick to the ceramic. "Anyway, now you know everything we know."
Phillip turned away. Walked to her tall, floor-to-ceiling windows, and looked out over the London nightscape. For a long while, he was silent. Eloise needed to get back to work. There were still itineraries to rearrange and accommodations to book, governmental paperwork, and, Christ, the insurance–
"Why should I believe you?"
Eloise looked up. "I don't have a reason to lie to you."
"Don't you?" He turned toward her. "How do I know that you didn't force Elias at gunpoint, just like you're forcing me?"
This was getting old.
"Look, Phillip, I know that what happened tonight was scary, but you don't seem to grasp how dangerous these people are." Eloise set her cup down. "If I had let you walk away, you might have been killed."
"Again, why should I believe you?" he countered. "All I have is your word. You could be flipping the narrative. Maybe LifeTech is actually the good guys trying to stop you from getting the Amritara. Maybe–"
Something snapped.
"Okay. You know what? Fine. You win." Eloise marched over to her office door, unlocked it, and flung it open wide. "You can go. Stairwell is around the corner on the left."
This was not worth it.
Phillip watched her, shocked, as she picked up her cup again and took her station behind her desk. She took his phone out from her pocket and lobbed it at him. He caught it awkwardly.
"Good luck with everything," she said, and got back to work.
Maybe she was being childish. But goddamn, she had done nothing but try to help this man, saved his fucking life, and all she got was anger and resentment and suspicion in return. She hadn't asked him any questions, didn't demand to know how he knew about the journal or why it was important. But sure, she was the bad guy here.
Fuck this. She had more important things to worry about.
"You're letting me go?" Phillip asked. "Just like that?"
"Just like that. I'm done." Eloise kept her eyes glued to her screen. "I told you everything I can, but if you would feel safer with the people that were actually shooting at us and trying to run us over, then be my guest."
Eloise opened a spreadsheet, started running the figures for an expedited timeline. She didn't see or hear Phillip move until he was standing in front of her desk. She paused for one moment, just to look at him.
"What."
"Don't you want this?" he asked, reaching into his jacket to take out the journal. "It's what you were after."
Eloise scoffed.
"I wanted to get it so that they couldn't get it." Another sip of her coffee. "You keep it, though, do whatever you want with it. I'd say you should probably destroy it, but you're not going to listen to me."
Another beat, Phillip standing still, the door still open behind him.
"I don't understand," he said at last.
"It was never about the journal, Phillip," Eloise said, smacking her hands against her desk and giving him a hard look. "I wanted you, because I believed that you were the best in the ethnobotany field, and I thought you might be the only person who could help us find the Amritara. I thought you would give a damn about this, but I was wrong. So I'm done. Bye."
There was a moment there, just a half of a second—less than half of a second—when Eloise thought she saw something in his eyes. Something fierce and true, but also… softer, a weariness that spoke of more than the fatigue of an intense night. Something frayed, unraveling, not quite giving up, but… resigned all the same.
Eloise recognized it, because she felt it, too.
"Listen, I'm sorry," he said. "A lot has happened. I… I don't think I'm in a good headspace right now. Can… can I sleep here?"
She didn't say anything for a long moment. Didn't tell him to leave. Didn't tell him that she was busy. Instead, she stepped away from her desk, and opened the storage closet behind her. She pulled out a folding cot, the kind that people used for camping, a pillow, a blanket, and dragged them to the far wall. Phillip didn't question why she had these things in her closet.
The cot unfolded with an old creak.
"There's an alcove in the hall. It's got a bunch of Aubrey merch in it," she said. "If you want to change into something else."
Phillip nodded. Then left her office.
Eloise went back to her desk, shoved her keyboard away, and laid her head upon her arms. Her back hurt. Her feet were sore. Phillip might have left bruises around her ribs from squeezing her so tight. In conclusion, Eloise was fucking exhausted.
"I think he likes you," Benedict said.
Eloise jerked so hard, her knee slammed into the drawers of her desk.
"JESUS—fuck, Ben! Have you been listening this whole time?"
"You never actually ended the call," he said, like it was a reasonable answer.
"You're supposed to be scrubbing traffic cams," she hissed, rubbing the stinging spot on her knee.
"Oh, I finished that a while ago."
"You should have said something."
"I didn't want to interrupt a very heartfelt moment." She could hear the grin in Benedict's voice. "Phillip's sweet on you. I can tell."
"Goodnight, Ben."
"Use a condo–"
Eloise ended the call, finally, with a very aggressive click of her mouse. In that moment, Benedict was no longer her favorite brother.
Phillip came back into the room a short while later. He wore one of Aubrey's powder blue t-shirts, the little bumble bee logo printed on the right breast. He took one look at her, and stopped.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," Eloise said. Her tone was definitely not curt or anything. "Get some rest."
He stared at her for a second, then shrugged. Eloise heard him sigh, long and audible, as he wandered over to the cot. Sat down, and started taking off his shoes.
"You should get some rest, too," he said.
"Can't." Eloise had almost finished her coffee. "Got work to do."
She could feel his gaze on her, assessing, calculating. But she actually did have work to do, if the trip out to the site was going to go smoothly. Without thinking about it, Eloise made a separate spreadsheet for Phillip, too. To keep track of his expenses.
"Where are we going?" Phillip asked. He was lying down on the cot, staring up at the ceiling.
Not you. We.
"Do you know where Svalbard is?" Eloise asked.
"Mmm," Phillip hummed as his eyes slid closed. "Don' think so."
He was asleep before he finished talking. Eloise picked up the remote control next to her elbow, and dimmed the lights to near nothing.
Four hours later, Eloise was running on fumes. Truly. Every press of her keyboard and click of her mouse took two seconds longer than it should have. But everything was ready. The paperwork was submitted, the outpost was being prepared, provisions for both of them were being gathered, and she'd just gotten the ready when you are text.
So she woke Phillip. He groaned awake, sat up, rubbed his eyes and scratched his belly, blinking up at her with the barely-aware bleariness of not enough sleep. Eloise handed him a shot of espresso, and told him to get dressed. They left the cot where it was when they left.
Her driver was waiting with the Buick outside. She barely remembered the drive through London. Sitting in the passenger seat, her laptop open on her knees, and reading the same email over and over again. Phillip sat in the back, quiet, looking out the window, watching the buildings thin and then disappear as they entered the Heathrow airspace and taxied to a private air strip.
Colin was waiting for them. Eloise stumbled getting out of the car. A warm touch on her arm—Phillip, his hand wrapped around her, keeping her from falling. Eloise should have thanked him, but she didn't, because at that point, her brain couldn't process the function of talking.
"First thing I want you to know," Colin barked as he met them in the burgeoning sunrise. "Is that I am a goddamn miracle worker, and I want a raise."
Eloise blinked at him. She saw concern bloom on her brother's face. Then her eyes closed.
🌿𓂃𓈒𓏸 🗺️ ════❖════ 🧭 𓂃𓈒𓏸 🌿
The last thing he expected was for Eloise to collapse into his arms.
Or maybe he should have, because he wasn't an idiot (most of the time) and as far as he knew, she hadn't slept at all the previous night, after the run with with the LifeTech goons and the insanity of zooming all over London on a motorbike. She was still wearing the all-black ensemble from the Archives, and her bloodshot eyes were ringed in dark circles. The ride to the airport had been silent, with Eloise staring at her laptop like a zombie.
And then she'd only managed to take a dozen steps on the airstrip before he felt her go boneless against him.
"Shit," he exclaimed, and tried to get himself underneath her sagging weight. He caught her around the waist with one arm and tried to support her head with the other, but she lolled like a rag doll, hair falling across her face.
"Eloise, what the hell?!" The other man began, before rushing over and tucking himself under her arm. Together, they lowered her slowly onto the tarmac.
Phillip tried to press a couple of fingers to her wrist, but the other man body-blocked him with his shoulder in an easy, practiced motion, kneeling down next to Eloise like he wasn't shocked at all that she'd just passed out on an airstrip.
"You can back up now," he said. "I got this."
"Excuse me?" Phillip shoved back, matching the other guy's shoulder check with a firm push of his own. "I'm the one who caught her."
"Yeah, thanks for that," the man mumbled, already distracted with undoing the top few buttons of Eloise's shirt so that he could reach in and feel for a pulse. Phillip watched, jaw tight.
"Who the fuck are you?" he asked, unable to keep the hostility from his voice, which surprised even himself. Phillip was not generally a combative person. But perhaps the stress of the day before was getting to him and making him irritable.
The other man didn't answer, just concentrated on his fingers pressed to Eloise's skin. It was sallow, but to his relief, he saw the rise of her chest as she took a breath. She might be as irritating as a popcorn kernel wedged between his back teeth in the middle of a movie, but he didn't want to see her hurt. After last night, when she'd finally revealed everything she knew about Elias, he'd felt an odd sort of kinship with her. Maybe it was just their shared near-death experience. But he was feeling strangely possessive of her safety.
"She'll be okay," the other man finally said. He pulled off his sweater and wadded it up to tuck under Eloise's head. Then he sat back on his heels and held out a hand to shake. "Colin. Nice to meet you."
Phillip stared at his outstretched palm suspiciously. "What, you work for her?" He bobbed his head towards Eloise's inert form.
Colin snorted. "Nah. We go way back." He gave her a fond glance that made the hairs on Phillip's arms stand up, then slid over next to her to brush the hair from her face in a gesture so intimately familiar that Phillip instantly felt his back teeth grind together.
"Tilt her chin up, so her airway's not blocked," he said gruffly, reaching over Colin to adjust her posture.
Colin slapped his hand away. "Give her some space, will you?"
Phillip felt the hot, prickling flare of irritation rise up his neck. Who the hell was this guy, anyway? He was dressed like a GQ model who'd gotten lost on his way to a fashion show, and looked like one too, what with his chiseled jaw and blue steel gaze.
"Look man," Phillip growled, stopping just short of shoving him backwards by the chest. "She's exhausted. We were running around all night and I don't think she slept. She's probably dehydrated, too. You gonna let me get her somewhere more comfortable, or are you planning on letting her lay here on asphalt until she wakes up?"
Colin paused, blinking slowly. Then he gave gave Phillip a slow, bemused smile before turning his attention back to Eloise.
"El. Hey, El." He gently slapped at her cheeks with the back of his fingers, which infuriated Phillip even more. "Wake up, before your bodyguard over here challenges me to a duel."
Phillip rolled his eyes. "So… that's a no. Well, get out of my way, then." He jutted out his elbow, shoving Colin aside. To his surprise, the other man didn't retaliate at all. But the grin widened.
"There's a bed on the plane," Colin said, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the aircraft. "Be my guest.
Phillip shot him one last withering look before glancing down at Eloise. Some color was coming back into her face, but her eyes were still closed. Carefully, he slid one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees. It wasn't easy picking up her dead weight from the ground and he grunted, struggling to get up onto his knees, but he managed it smoothly enough, he supposed. Once he had her securely in his arms, he made his way to the plane parked on to the tarmac in front of him. It wasn't until that moment that he actually took a look at the jet itself, and when he saw it, he nearly did a spit take.
The aircraft in front of them looked like a tropical neon disco party.
It was painted in a blinding shade of magenta that faded into highlighter yellow at the tail, the color only broken up by several cartoon flamingos wearing shutter shades and holding martini glasses, complete with olives speared on little twizzle sticks. In their midst was an enormous gorilla wearing a gold chain, flashing a toothy grin and a thumbs up. The engine turbines were painted to resemble disco balls, complete with dazzling, glittering sparkles. And across the nose cone, rendered in a glow-in-the-dark paint to ensure that no one would ever be able to unsee it, were the words Air Force Fun!
Phillip was pretty sure this jet would be visible from space.
"What the hell is that?" he muttered, forgetting momentarily that he was holding Eloise.
"The only plane I could procure on short notice," came Colin's wry reply from behind him.
Shaking his head, Phillip made his way up the narrow steps into the dimly lit interior. Trying to ignore the cheetah-print wallpaper and flashing multi-colored lights on the ceiling, he glanced to his right and found that there was, indeed, a bed. A heart shaped one covered in pink satin pillows.
Pretty sure I'm going to catch an STD just being in here, thought Phillip, but he didn't say anything aloud. Carefully, he laid Eloise down on the bed and smoothed the hair back from her forehead. The thought crossed his mind at that moment that she looked so… vulnerable. Not at all like the woman who'd managed to evade a bunch of thugs on a motorcycle and held him at gunpoint.
He heard Colin's footsteps behind him. "Oh, nice. You got her heavy ass on the plane so I didn't have to. Thanks, man."
Phillip turned on him, suddenly furious. "What the fuck is your problem? Who even speaks about a woman like that?"
Colin, who was rummaging around a mini-fridge that Phillip had failed to notice at first glance, paused, a bottle of sparkling water in his hand. He looked at Phillip, then over at Eloise—who was now snoring with cute little wheezy puffs of breath—and then back at Phillip. And then, he began to laugh.
"Okay, Captain Chivalry, you can relax. I wasn't trying to–"
Phillip took a step closer and drew himself up as tall as he could, puffing out his chest. "This isn't a joke!" he practically snarled, shoving Colin in the chest. The other man stumbled back into the wall. "She collapsed out there in the heat and all you can do is make fun of how heavy she is? You're an asshole. Why the hell she'd ever be with you is beyond me–"
"WHOA!" Colin held up a hand from where he was half-crouching on the floor. "First of all, back up." He stood up straight and dusted off his pants, then squared his shoulders and looked into Phillip's raging eyes. "Second of all, lemme puke real quick." He turned away and made an exaggerated retching face, sounds of wet, phlegmy gagging coming from his throat.
Phillip just shook his head in disbelief.
"Colin," came Eloise's faint, tired voice from the bed. "Could you keep it down?"
Phillip whipped around to see Eloise, blinking at them with exhausted eyes, still laying where he had left her on the satin coverlet. He rushed over and placed the back of his hand on her cheek. She was warm, but at least her skin now had some color in it.
"Hey," he managed. "How are you feeling?" He tried to keep his voice light, but there was something hoarse and heavy behind his words.
"Fucking exhausted," she muttered. "Can't you two compare dicks somewhere else? Outside, maybe?"
Phillip tried not to be miffed at her words, and instead grabbed the bottle of water out of Colin's hand. "Here," he said, cracking it open and holding it towards her lips. "Drink this. Slowly."
She obeyed, propping herself up on an elbow and taking slow sips, eyes closed. Once she'd drank half the bottle, she shoved it back at him and promptly collapsed face down into the pillow.
Phillip let out a breath and set the water down on the counter by the bed. Then he turned towards Colin, arms crossed like he was standing guard over Eloise.
"She needs rest," he said in a low voice that was his best impression of James Bond. "So keep your grubby little hands off her and take your gag reflex elsewhere before I throw you off this ridiculous plane."
A muffled snort came from the satin coverlet.
Eloise dragged a tired hand down her face and peeled her eyes open just enough to glare at him. "What in God's name are you doing, Phillip?"
"I'm taking care of this jackass that came with the plane," he replied firmly, not taking his eyes off Colin, who was making a face at him like he was struggling not to burst into laughter. "I'm not leaving you alone here with him. God knows what he'd do to you."
Eloise groaned and flopped back down. "Oh my god," she moaned. "You dumbass. He's my brother. Jesus Christ, just throw me into the propeller blades. That would be less torturous than this."
Colin shuddered. "Where do you find these winners, El? Now I need to go bleach my brain to get rid of that mental image."
Phillip froze, his brain slowly rolling over and rebooting itself. "Your… brother?"
"Yes. From the same vagina and everything."
"I thought your brother was Benedict!" His voice cracked.
Eloise rolled her eyes. "I have four brothers. Now for the the love of god, would you please leave me alone and let me get a few minutes of sleep?"
He just stood still, standing over her, mouth agape, and replaying in his mind the embarrassing show of masculine posturing he'd just displayed.
Colin crossed his arms and gave him a slow, infuriating grin. "Nice job, Loverboy. But next time you might have better luck if you don't accuse her of incest."
Eloise sat up, grabbed the bottle of water, and chucked it at Colin's head. "Fuck off, both of you."
Laughing, Colin headed in to the cockpit. Phillip, bewildered at it all, followed him.
On the way, he finally had a chance to take in the more… interesting aspects of the plane's interior. In addition to the heart shaped bed, there was a separate lounge area with a large, flat-screen television and sound system, a fully stocked bar, and near the rear, an actual hot tub surrounded by mirrored walls.
He shook his head and stepped into the cockpit.
"What, exactly," he began slowly, "is going on?"
Colin, who had booted up the flight management computer and was clicking around, didn't look at him. "She didn't tell you? I hope you packed long underwear. It's going to be chilly where we're going."
Phillip sat down heavily in the co-pilot's seat. "I didn't pack anything," he muttered. "I wasn't exactly planning on taking a vacation."
Colin gave a half-shrug. "Guess you'll be going shopping when we get there," he said. "Svalbard isn't exactly known for boutiques, but you can get what you need."
"Uh, and where is Svalbard?" he asked, feeling more than a little stupid.
Colin rolled his eyes. Phillip saw it then. The sibling resemblance.
"It's a remote Norwegian archipelago in the Arctic Ocean," he said. "There are more polar bears than people there. Probably Santa Claus, too. Let's hope you haven't been a naughty boy."
Phillip let that sink in. The arctic? Seriously? He was way underdressed.
He stared at Colin for a long moment, still not entirely understanding what was happening. "So… the three of us are going to Norway to find a tree? Have you been a part of this treasure hunt from the beginning?"
Colin snorted. "Hell no. I just fly the plane. Eloise said something about gathering a team. You, apparently, were the one who needed the most convincing." He reached down and flipped some switch by his knee, then glanced at his watch. "Looks like they should be here any minute."
Sure enough, a pitch of voices floated towards him from the tarmac—the laughing, relaxed chatter of people who clearly hadn't been dragged here under duress. He barely had time to rise out of his seat when the voices floated up the stairs and then filtered in clearly through the lounge.
There was a low wolf whistle, then a woman's sultry voice with a hint of laughter behind it. "Cheetah-print wallpaper? I always knew Eloise was a classy bitch."
Phillip stepped out of the cockpit just in time to see the speaker reach out to drag a perfectly manicured fingernail down the aforementioned wall. He felt his eyes slightly bug out of his head.
She had a mass of strawberry blonde hair cascading over one shoulder in an artfully woven braid, and the most, uh, generous chest he'd seen in a long, long time. An attribute that she was clearly not ashamed of, given the snug, plunging sweater she wore. She spotted him immediately and treated him to a brilliant white smile.
"Why, hello! You must be the botanist. Eloise was telling us all about you." She sauntered over to him and held out a hand to shake. "I'm Lucy. Linguist and cryptographer, specializing in dead languages."
He took her hand and subconsciously licked his lips, which suddenly felt oddly dry.
"Hi. Yes. Uh. Plants. I mean—botany," he stammered. "Phillip. Crane. Like the bird." Jesus. However manly he'd felt trying to protect Eloise from her own brother, it was gone now, replaced by a blubbering idiot who couldn't remember his own name. "Hi," he said again, and then mentally slapped himself.
Lucy must have found this charming, because her smile widened. "Nice to meet you, Phillip-Crane-like-the-bird."
Behind Lucy, a young man with a flop of brown hair scrambled up the steps and nearly tripped on the threshold under the weight of an oversized leather satchel on his back. He straightened and pushed the horn-rimmed glasses up his nose.
"Sorry. Stairs were steep." He glanced around with a nervous, humming energy before turning his attention to Phillip. "Henry," he said. "Archaeology. Well. Hopeful archaeologist. This trip is going to kick off my dissertation." He offered a hesitant smile and wouldn't quite look Phillip in the eye as he offered his hand.
As Phillip shook it, the strangest feeling of deja vu washed over him. Something about Henry was undeniably familiar, but he couldn't quite place his finger on exactly what it was. Perhaps it was the arch of his brows, or maybe the way he fidgeted with the strap of his bag. And yet, Phillip couldn't place him.
"Have we… met before?" He asked, bending to get a clearer look at Henry's face.
"Oh, probably not," Henry answered, a little too quickly. "I get asked that a lot. Apparently I just have one of those faces." He shrugged, then turned away, seemingly fascinated by the karaoke machine built into the wall.
Bringing up the rear was a human-shaped boulder. The man had to bend over to clear the doorframe, then when he straightened, his head barely missed the ceiling. With his hair braided tight to the sides of his head and a jawline sharp enough to cut timber, Phillip would have expected him to be wearing a bear pelt and horn helmet instead of the t-shirt that was clearly fighting for its life over his bulging biceps.
"I am Viggo," the giant announced, voice booming through the aircraft. "Arctic guide. Medic. Wilderness survival." He slid a massive duffel bag from his shoulder and tossed it into the corner with a thud. "I teach you how to avoid polar bears and frostbite. Most important: Do not run or polar bear eat your face. If toes turn black, I cut them off." He lovingly patted the leather Bowie knife sheath that was strapped around one enormous thigh. "Understand?"
The silence in the cabin was so loud it might as well have been a chorus of crickets.
"Charming," Colin broke in, poking his head out of the cockpit. "If you're all done with the icebreaker activities, we can head off. I'm renting this thing by the hour." He raised a fist to thump the ceiling over his head.
"I have sledgehammer for icebreaking," Viggo said helpfully, pointing to his duffel.
Phillip closed his eyes. What the hell have I gotten myself into? "Can you give me five minutes to make a phone call?"
Colin nodded. "Just make it fast."
Blowing out a breath, Phillip dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed the twins, making his way to the back of the plane and sitting on the edge of the hot tub for some modicum of privacy.
Amanda picked up this time. There was some sort of blasting cartoon theme music playing in the background. "Hi, Dad!" she said cheerfully.
"Hey, Amanda. Listen. I—I have to go out of town for a work trip. I'm not sure when I'll be back."
He heard shuffling noises, and the cartoon music suddenly went silent. "Is this for that company you were having us hack?" Amanda sounded suddenly concerned.
He bit his lip. He did not like lying to the children. He also did not like worrying them needlessly. They were eight years old. They should be worrying about scraped knees and Pokemon cards, not their father getting caught up in corporate drama.
"No, Love," he said, trying to sound confident. "Nothing like that. Just a quick research trip. I'll call you when I get back, okay?"
"Will you bring us souvenirs?"
Phillip smiled, and felt a slight prick of tears behind his eyes. God, he missed the children so much that sometimes it felt like half his heart had been cut away. "Yes, of course. Give Oliver my love, will you?"
"I will. Bye, Dad. I love you."
"I love you too, Amanda," he replied, trying to keep his voice from breaking.
When he hung up, he ran a tired hand over his face. In the lounge, Lucy, Henry, and Viggo were buckling in. Henry already had his nose in a book, and Lucy had put on a set of headphones. Viggo had unsnapped the Bowie knife from its sheath and was using it to trim his nails.
Eloise was still face down on the bed. He thought about waking her, telling her to buckle up, but decided she probably wouldn't appreciate his concern. There was a loud whirring noise as the plane roared to life.
Sighing, he made his way to the seat opposite Lucy and sat down.
As he was adjusting his headrest, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. There was a momentum shift as the plane began to slowly move down the runway. Pulling out his phone, he froze as he saw the text message pop up on his screen.
From Miles.
He hadn't heard from Miles since his assistant had quit with hardly any notice. He'd been apologetic. Regretful, even. But he'd been firm when he'd walked out that last day. Sorry, Phil. I gotta look out for my own ass, you know? This is a sinking ship. If you knew what was good for you, you'd jump, too.
Frowning, he swiped open the message.
MILES: Something crazy is going on. A strange woman approached me as I was walking to my car and offered me a crazy amount of cash to go on an expedition to search for a tree. It felt really off so I refused. Now someone's broken into my office. I don't know what this is all about but I thought I should warn you. If a beautiful woman approaches you promising something too good to be true, DON'T TRUST HER.
Phillip's head whipped around and he stared at Eloise's sleeping form. The plane picked up speed and he felt his body being pressed into his seatback.
MILES: Don't trust ANYONE, Phil.
"Wait," he tried to call out, fumbling for his seatbelt. It slipped out of his fingers. "I changed my mind! I want to get off!"
Viggo paused his manicure, staring at him curiously.
"Did you hear me?" Phillip yelled towards the cockpit. "I said I changed my mind!"
His stomach suddenly dropped as the plane kicked off the the runway and rose into the air. There was a moment of vertigo, then disorientation as it banked sharply to the left. The ground disappeared beneath them.
"Goddammit, Colin!" he screamed.
A pink satin pillow hit him in the face.
"Shut up," Eloise barked. "It's too late now. We were cleared to take off. We can't just turn around and land without air traffic control permission."
Phillip banged on his armrests in frustration. Henry peeked at him from behind his book, frowning.
There was no turning back now.