Archive of Our Own

“Life is short and the world is at least half terrible, and for every kind stranger, there is one who would break you, though I keep this from my children. I am trying to sell them the world. Any decent realtor, walking you through a real shithole, chirps on about good bones: This place could be beautiful, right? You could make this place beautiful.”
- Maggie Smith, Good Bones

It was the start of December and the city of Baltimore was shrouded in frost, the air positively frigid. The cloudy winter evening was illuminated only by the weak glow of street lamps. Kate walked as fast as she could, trying to outrun the cold and the dark. Slush crunched beneath her heavy boots, and her fingers — encased in a pair of ratty black gloves with several holes at the tips — clutched the strap of her messenger bag tight. She kept glancing back and forth, keeping track of the other pedestrians she passed. While the poor neighborhood she resided in wasn’t necessarily a hotbed of criminal activity, it also wasn’t the safest place in the world. Most of the trouble was car thieves, which didn’t affect Kate, but there were the occasional pickpockets or knife-wielding wannabe toughs too, and she didn’t want to chance coming across anyone aggressive. 

Her breath plumed white as she practically jogged the final block to the 6-story brick apartment building where she and her siblings had been living for the past half a year. With shaking fingers she pulled her key from her bag and opened the front door. After re-locking it behind her she had just enough presence of mind to check the mailboxes in the front hall (there was nothing in theirs; Michael must have remembered to empty it when he got home) before heading for the stairwell.

She and her family lived on the fourth floor, and while making the trek up was normally fine, unless she was lugging something heavy like the desk her brother found at a yard sale, going up all those stairs after working two different shifts was exhausting. By the time she reached her floor, Kate felt as though her legs had turned to gelatin. 

She gripped her keys tighter and practically stumbled to apartment 407. The sight of the door’s chipped paint and the feel of the creaky knob beneath her hand brought her a measure of comfort. This place wasn’t much, but it was a home, the first place she and her siblings had ever been that belonged wholly to them.

(Kate had turned 18 in March, though the orphanage was required to keep housing her until the school year was complete. As she finished the process of earning her high school diploma, she had also completed the work necessary to become the legal guardian of Michael and Emma. When she graduated at the start of June and left the orphanage system for good, she had brought her brother and sister along with her. Over the past few years she had saved up enough money — by doing chores for the people who lived around the orphanage, and by working three days a week for the librarian at her high school  — to begin renting an apartment for the three of them.)

With a yank, Kate opened the door, warm light spilling out over her and into the hall. A tired but sincere smile tugged at her lips as she entered, locked the door behind her, dropped her work bag on the table next to the ratty couch, and toed off her boots. She had just tucked those same boots neatly beneath the aforementioned table when she heard the door to the back room open with a bang.

“Kate!” The two voices that called her name were like music to her ears — even if they were also high-pitched and a tad whiny in this particular instance.

“Hey,” she said, throwing out her arms as her brother and sister dashed into the living room. “How- whoa!”

15 year old Emma had embraced her fiercely, nearly squeezing the breath from her lungs. “Sorry,” the girl said, though she didn’t sound apologetic. “I’m just really, really glad you’re back. Michael’s been torturing me-“

Their 16 year old brother scowled and cut her off. “I was trying to help you, you absolute moron-“

“And how is prattling on about dwarves supposed to help me finish my book report?”

“I was trying to draw a parallel between the legal system of King Ingmar the Kind and Atticus Finch’s performance as an attorney. It was really quite astute, if I do say so myself.”

“All I hear is blah-blah-blah-pretentious nonsense, blah-blah-makin’ my ears bleed!”

Michael looked about ready to grab a pillow and hurl it at her, but before he could, Kate held up a hand. “Alright, that’s enough, both of you. It’s almost 7:30, right? We gotta get started on dinner. Emma, you’ll just have to finish the book report later.”

“What a shame,” Emma said with a self-satisfied grin.

At the exact same time, Michael rolled his eyes. “She barely even started.”

“I said enough,” Kate chided, though with little heat to her words. She gently shooed her brother and sister through the opening leading from the living room into the small kitchen. Emma immediately plopped down at the wobbly wooden table where they ate. (She was only allowed to do very specific things to help in the kitchen, as the first and only time she’d tried to cook, pasta sauce had gotten everywhere.)

“You both cool with pancakes for dinner?” Kate asked, standing on tip-toe to grab the boxed mix from the cupboard. 

“Yeah,” said Michael.

“I’m always down for pancakes,” said Emma.

“Great! Someone grab me the eggs.”

They fell into routine, then, Michael and Emma telling their older sister about their days while she directed dinner preparations and fired up the stove. They complained about the jocks who were always throwing things on the bus ride to school, and gave her the latest gossip from the lunchroom. They told her what happened in class, and about how their respective after-school jobs had gone. (Michael tutored other students, and Emma walked dogs in their neighborhood.) It was all very homey, the easy chatter and the space being perfumed by the smell of pancakes cooking in the skillet. This was truly Kate’s favorite place to be; just existing with her siblings, listening to their little joys, it made the long hours she worked earlier worthwhile.

(She had two jobs; the one she had just walked home from was the less intensive one — being a cashier at a convenience store a few streets away. The other job, which paid more and offered more hours, but which also required more physical labor and for her to get up at the crack of dawn, was a job as a cleaner at a nearby hotel. Both jobs were often tedious and occasionally gross, but they were necessary. Because of them she was able to pay rent and bills, and keep their cupboards full; the food stamps she had been approved for two months ago also helped with the latter part.)

As Kate flipped the last batch of pancakes, Michael began pulling out toppings and filling cups with water, while Emma grabbed the paper napkins and dinky cutlery. Soon the siblings were sitting down and eating together. Emma, as always, drowned her pancakes in syrup, which made her brother’s nose scrunch up in disapproval. Kate bit back a giggle at their antics and tucked into her own meal. 

Once they finished eating, Kate went to change out of her work clothes and into her pajamas. While she did that, Michael and Emma started on the dishes. By the time their elder sister returned, they were halfway through washing the stack and, of course, bickering.

“Ah!” Michael screeched as Emma stuck her hand in the faucet and splashed water on his cheek. “Emma!”

She began to snicker. He immediately recoiled and wiped the droplets off his skin. “You’re so gross,” he complained.

“And you’re a wimp.” She beamed unrepentantly and tapped his nose with the scrubbing brush. Michael scowled. Kate just sighed and left them to it.

After the dishes were done, the three siblings curled up on the couch beneath thrifted blankets. They didn’t have a television – such a purchase would be too costly and frivolous – but they did have a radio, which was almost always set to a classical station that reminded Kate of a few hazy memories with her father. Emma laid her head on Kate’s legs and allowed the older girl to stroke her hair gently, looking for all the world like a big cat at rest. Michael sat by his little sister’s feet with his favorite book, The Dwarf Omnibus, open on his lap. They carried on like that for a while, and Kate relished in the peaceful atmosphere. She loved her siblings always, of course, but it was nice to have a moment with them where they weren’t bickering. 

Her eyelids had begun to droop, her body lulled by the gentle music and the warm feeling of Emma propped against her, when it happened. The radio station cut to commercial and the host began talking about Christmas plans – gifts, food, traveling to see his relatives, the whole works. The words had her freezing up, suddenly, soberingly awake. 

“Kate?” Emma hadn’t noticed the change in the radio program, but she had definitely noticed that her sister was no longer petting her hair. “You okay?”

“Fine,” She murmured, even though she was anything but. The mere thought of Christmas reminded her of all the things still hanging over her head. This Christmas would mark the fourteen year anniversary of their parents’ disappearance; the siblings still had no clue where their mother and father had gone or why they had left. The reminder of their splintered family was always painful, and it only grew more so as the years ticked by without answers. 

Kate touched the golden locket she always wore, tracing the rose inscribed upon it with the tips of her fingers. She had promised to protect and to care for Michael and Emma on that last night when she saw her mother. She worked herself to the bone to do so. And she hoped desperately she was succeeding, though she wasn’t entirely sure on that front. She might have managed to get them out of the orphanage, to keep them together, but this life they led now wasn’t much of a step up. They lived in a shoebox apartment with noisy neighbors and a shoddy heater. They still struggled to make friends, in part because Kate couldn’t pay for them to participate in extracurriculars. She wasn’t even sure how much of a Christmas she’d be able to give them. How much money would she be able to allot towards buying her brother and sister gifts? Probably not much, she knew, which made her feel incredibly guilty. 

(Almost every bit of money the siblings didn’t spend on the essentials – bills, clothes, food, etcetera – went into their shared savings. It was unspoken, but they all knew it would eventually be put towards two goals. One was college – Michael would definitely want to attend, though Emma might not. Kate herself hoped that she would at least be able to take some community college courses, but with their financial situation being what it was, she knew she wouldn’t be able to enroll until next fall at the earliest. The second long term goal was, of course, hiring a private investigator to search for their long lost parents.)

They deserve so much better than this, Kate thought, and she found her eyes beginning to sting. She wanted to throw her head back and bawl, or to lay on the floor and let her weary body rest for the next year. She wanted to beg her siblings’ forgiveness for not being able to give them the life they deserved. She wanted to scream and smash something and yell at her parents, wherever they were, for leaving Michael and Emma to this life of orphanages and loneliness and being raised by a sister who tried so hard but couldn’t give them all they should have had. 

She did none of those things, of course. Instead she stretched her arm towards the radio. The announcer was still chattering aimlessly about visiting his mother for the upcoming holidays, blissfully unaware of what a privilege it was to have parents and peace and all the other things she and her siblings never knew. 

“Let me tell you, my mother makes the best brussels sprouts. Her recipe can make any picky eater-”

With the flick of a switch, Kate plunged the room into silence. 

***

Sleeping on the pullout couch could rival sleeping in the orphanage dormitories that had been the backdrop to so much of her youth, which was saying something. But even as her eyebags darkened and her insomnia worsened and her neck ached from being held at an odd angle all night long, Kate didn’t complain. Their matchbox of an apartment only had one bedroom, which Michael and Emma shared.

She shifted for a long while, as was customary for her, listening to the myriad of sounds that permeated the apartment’s thin walls. She could hear the upstairs neighbor stomping around, the creak of the building settling, and the faint cry of a baby from somewhere down the hall. She heard cars rumbling down the labyrinthine city streets and distant sirens from the fire station blocks away. She heard Michael and Emma squabbling over the tripping hazards – aka random articles of dirty clothing – the latter left scattered around their room. (Though, to be fair, she would likely have heard that even if the walls weren’t so thin. Her siblings weren’t exactly the quietest of people.)

Even after her brother and sister and the neighbors all fell silent, and the din of the city outside lessened ever so slightly, Kate remained awake. Though her eyelids felt heavy as boulders and her limbs begged for relief, her mind still turned restlessly. This wasn’t unusual for her, even before moving into the apartment; Kate couldn’t remember the last time she got a full eight hours of sleep. 

At least tomorrow’s Saturday, she thought. I only have a three hour afternoon shift at the convenience store. 

Sometime after that, when slumber finally embraced her, Kate found herself having a strange dream – just as she had almost every night for the past couple of weeks. She was standing on a bridge, looking out at a city on the sea. It was nowhere she had ever been; in fact, with its cobblestone streets filled with peddlers and carts, and its tenements stretching up into the sky, it looked like something out of a photograph from a century past. 

Kate leaned against the railing, her hair fluttering around her in the breeze as she looked through this veritable window in time. 

The dreams had started off hazy, hard to remember. They slipped through her fingers like water. But with each passing night they had grown more and more lucid, until she was completely aware of who she was and what was happening.

(She never had such lucid dreams before these past days, but she didn’t question it. It must simply be another symptom of her exhaustion.) 

“There you are,” called a familiar voice from somewhere behind her. She heard footsteps quickening and, a moment later, the boy was standing beside her. He joined her in leaning on the railing, a kind smile blossoming across his face.

“Hello,” Kate said, somewhat amused. It was an odd thing, to be completely conscious but still talking to a figment of her imagination.

The young man before her was another fixture of these weird new dreams. A companion who walked alongside her and listened to whatever she had to say. He was a wiry built person her age, dressed in old-timey clothing — suspenders and all. His skin was pale, his nose was rather crooked, as if it had once been broken, and his black hair was perpetually messy. He looked so detailed, so whole, that Kate could have mistaken him for someone she’d interacted with in her actual life, were it not for his eyes. 

His eyes were a brilliant, startling emerald green. They were simply too vivid to be real. She knew she had never seen anyone with eyes like that in the waking world, for they would be impossible to forget. 

“How are you?” He asked, voice soft and a little concerned. “You look rather tired.”

It was kind of funny, how this figure pulled from the depths of her mind asked her questions as though he didn’t already know the answers. She supposed it had to be influenced by some subconscious want of companionship — after all, Kate was alone in the world save for her siblings, and she certainly didn’t have someone who spoke to her with such understanding of the burdens she bore. This boy must have been her dreaming mind’s way of trying to alleviate that sense of loneliness. 

(She didn’t know what the old-timey city was meant to represent. Perhaps it was just something she remembered from history class? She was always good at the subject…)

“I am tired,” she admitted, internally marveling at how distant her own voice sounded. As though she were listening to herself shout underwater. “We were restocking shelves at the convenience store earlier, and that was on top of all the scrubbing I did at the motel. My back hurts like a bitch.”

The boy nodded. “Sounds exhausting.”

“It is, but I have to do it. We can’t risk falling behind on bills…” She trailed off and heaved a heavy sigh. “And I’m gonna have to see about taking on extra shifts soon, which is gonna be a killer.”

“Did rent get raised, or-”

“No, but it’s almost Christmas. And if I want to give Michael and Emma any sort of celebration, I’ll have to be able to pay for it.” She paused, then added in a smaller voice. “I really want to be able to celebrate with them. They deserve so many nice things and I can’t give them most of those, but I can at least give them this.”

It occurred to her that this was somewhat ridiculous, venting her concerns in a lucid dream to a man created by her imagination for the sole purpose of giving her someone to unburden herself upon. But where else would she get the chance to speak her fears aloud? Not in the waking world, that was for sure – she wouldn’t put her stress onto her siblings’ shoulders, and there was no one in her life who would understand her. Hell, most wouldn’t even listen if she tried to share her feelings with them.

“I know what you mean. When you’ve got kids you’re responsible for, you want to do right by them. You worry if you’re doing things right,” the boy said, and he sounded so understanding, as though he had been in her shoes before. He technically had, considering he was a product of her mind, she realized. But it was still nice to hear someone say the words, to recognize what she was going through, even if that someone was just a dream she’d conjured up herself.

“Sometimes I think I’m doing everything wrong,” she admitted. The words came out as a whisper. 

The boy reached over and took her hand. His skin was warm to the touch. His fingers were steady. “You’re not. You’ve been dealt a bad hand in life and still managed to give your siblings a childhood. You’ve kept them safe and together. That’s what counts, at the end of the day.”

“I know. I just wish I could give them more than this. I wish they were having the life they deserved, not what little I’ve been able to eke out for us.”

“You’ve been doing a great job,” he reiterated. “Better than lots a’ people much older and more experienced could’ve even hoped to do.”

His words were what she’d long wanted someone to say to her, and it brought her a certain amount of comfort to finally hear them. But that comfort was hollow, for this – the reassurance, the easy camaraderie with someone who understood her burden – was all a fantasy. 

She wasn’t ready to acknowledge reality just yet, so she didn’t reply. Instead, she squeezed his fingers tight — he felt solid and steady — and looked out at the historic cityscape before them. They watched the tiny figures that were pedestrians move through avenues and alleyways, like ants in a glass case. 

A small but sincere laugh escaped from her lips. The boy glanced over at her. “What’s so funny?”

“From up here, everything and everyone looks so small. It’s like an ant farm,” she explained. “And, well…  When Emma was eight or nine, she had an ant farm for a few weeks.”

“Let me guess; she got into trouble with it?”

“She first got it confiscated after two weeks because she tried to put the ants into Mrs. Harrison’s laundry basket.” Kate chuckled again at the memory of the lackadaisical orphanage director, who preferred letting her charges run wild and fight one another as opposed to actually setting boundaries or supervising, screaming bloody murder when she found ants crawling in her undergarments. “A week later, she got it back with clear instructions that she was not to repeat the prank. Two days after that, it was put in the dumpster.”

“Did she repeat the prank?”

“No. She didn’t even put a new batch of ants in the box. Instead, she put a daddy-long-legs in there and then released it into Michael’s bed. He did not take it well.”

The boy threw his head back and let out a wild cackle. “That child,” he declared, “is a menace. An absolute menace.”

Kate giggled. “She certainly gets into a lot of trouble. I love her though, lack of common sense and all.”

They fell into silence again. Kate could feel the boy’s eyes on her, but she didn’t mind. This felt comfortable. Like any relaxing outing with a friend. She’d never been on one of those before — never had the time to make friends, let alone go on little adventures with them. She supposed she still hadn’t been on such an outing, only conjured one up as she laid on the lumpy couch. 

After another minute of watching the city and savoring the cool breeze, the boy began to speak again, voice low. “Kate?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something a little personal?”

She cocked her head, wondering where this was going. Wondering what her brain was about to confront her with. “Shoot.”

“Do you ever resent it? Having to give up so much, take on so many responsibilities, raise your siblings?”

Kate froze for a moment before answering. Unsure of whether or not she should answer. It should have seemed odd, the idea venting some of her deepest and most complicated feelings to a figment of her imagination. But the boy she’d dreamt up was looking at her with such kindness, and no judgement at all, in his eyes. It felt safe, telling him these things. She supposed it was safe; she could get the benefits of expressing herself verbally without the sentiments actually leaving her head and being heard by another person. So, she spoke:

“I’ve never resented Michael and Emma. Not for a moment. I’ve been frustrated or annoyed by them, I’ve wished they could go easier on me at times, but I’ve never resented them. They never asked for any of this either. They were so little when our family was split up and they needed someone to care for them, to ensure they still had a childhood, and I was the only one there and willing to do it. That’s not their fault.”

“But?”

“But I am… angry, sometimes,” she admitted. “Not at my siblings. They were kids. But I was a kid too. I was four years old when everything collapsed. When all that responsibility got put on me. I had to grow up quickly so they didn’t have to, and so many adults around us thought that was just fine. I do resent those people. All the ones who failed us.”

Her throat felt tight all of a sudden. She reached up and toyed with her necklace as she continued.

“All the people who worked at the orphanages but didn’t give a damn about us kids. Most were neglectful and several were cruel and some… Some I had to fight tooth and nail so they wouldn’t split me and my siblings apart. That was the worst. All the other stuff was awful but I could shield my siblings from it. But splitting us up? Taking away the only family we’ve got left? That’s unforgivable.”

“It is.”

“All those people should’ve been looking out for us but instead they just caused us more pain. And no one else ever did anything about it. Teachers and doctors and government officials let us slip through the cracks. Keeping us afloat was all left to me. None of them lifted a finger. I just know they would’ve let Michael and Emma fall into oblivion if I wasn’t there to catch them.”

She paused again, swallowing tightly. “And then my parents… I try not to resent my parents. I try really, really hard. Because they loved us. I know they did. I might not have many memories of them but the ones I have make it clear. They loved us and they didn’t want to leave. My mother was devastated on that last night. She looked so scared. And when she promised they would return she was serious as the grave. Something must have happened to separate us and keep them away for so long, something out of their control. It’s not their fault either. So I try not to resent them. But I don’t always succeed.”

A tremble ran through her. The boy put a steadying hand on her shoulder. The warm weight was an anchor, preventing her from being washed away by the tides of memory and pain.

“I was four years old and they asked me to take care of Michael and Emma. Maybe they didn’t know how long they’d be gone, or just how hard our lives would be after they left. But they still had me promise. And sometimes I resent them for putting all of that on me. I feel like a terrible person for being angry at them, but I am.”

“You’re the farthest thing from a terrible person,” the boy assured her without hesitation. “And it’s okay to be angry. The world has treated you horribly, has put so much on your shoulders. Your anger is more than earned.”

Her mouth pressed into a thin, grim line, so tight that the sobs she could feel building up couldn’t escape. Only when the tension had abated slightly did she dare speak again.

“I don’t want to be angry. Because no matter how I wound up in this position, my siblings mean the world to me. I’m glad I've been able to protect and care for them. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat if I had to. But it hurts thinking about all I’ve given up for them, and about the childhood I’ll never get back.”

That was an understatement. There were days she was so exhausted she didn’t want to stand up, and it was only the knowledge that her siblings were counting on her to provide for them that made her do so. There were days she felt like a perpetually raw wound, leaking blood, never healing no matter how long she bandaged it. 

“You have every right to feel that way. After your parents vanished, someone should have been looking out for you, and that person failed miserably.”

An edge had entered the boy’s voice, knife-sharp. 

Kate rocked back and forth on her heels, wrapping her arms around herself. She chewed on her bottom lip. “Sometimes I wonder what me and Michael and Emma would be like if our parents stayed. If any other adult actually cared what happened to us. I wonder if we would have futures beyond scraping by and questioning our own origins, I wonder if my brother and sister would have friends and hobbies and all the things they deserve but don’t have now. I wonder if I’d be…” 

Rested. Innocent. Happy.

“And other times I think I’d do anything for just one person to step up and lend a hand, just a little bit. If I could have one thing taken off my plate – one less bill to pay, one less meal a week to cook – well, that would mean the world.”

The boy inched closer to her, so their arms were brushing. “What if someone could do more than that? What if you didn’t have to worry about money anymore, or searching for your parents, or taking care of your siblings’ material needs?”

“That would… I can’t even imagine. I’m scared to even try, because I know it’ll never happen.”

“What if it did? What if someone could help you?”

“Who would want to?” 

“I would.” He moved from her side to her front. They were facing one another, his hands loosely holding on to her upper arms. She stared into his eyes and felt as though she were being swallowed by the endlessly deep green of them. “I want to help you, Kate. You’ve been suffering alone for so long, but you don’t have to anymore. I can help you and your siblings, if only you’ll let me.”

For a moment she was rendered silent by the sheer intensity in his gaze. Then the meaning of his words became clear. She let out a noise, something between a laugh and a sob.

“No,” she said, “you can’t.”

He opened his mouth to protest but she pulled free of his grasp and shushed him. This had gone on too long. This lucid dream had turned from a source of catharsis to a false promise, a trick of her own mind. Offering her what she wanted most – help making a better life for her siblings, an understanding ear to address, someone who she could rely on. 

“You can’t help me. This isn’t real. You aren’t real. You're just a product of my desperate, exhausted mind.”

“Kate-”

“This is only a dream.”

An unreadable look filled his emerald gaze. That was the last thing Kate remembered, before the world became a wash of indistinct grayish light and noise. She soon awoke to the weak winter sun streaming through the windows, the ever present thrum of the city, and an unexpected dampness on her cheeks.

She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand, took a deep, shuddering breath, and pushed the dream away for good. There were siblings to wake and breakfast to start. 

***

Michael scowled as Emma kicked her feet, clad in fuzzy purple socks, into his lap. She was laid out on the couch, repeatedly tossing a tennis ball up into the air and then catching it, all while listening to the nature channel on the radio. (They were replaying a special about penguins.) Michael, for his part, was trying to complete the section of The Tempest he’d been assigned to read over the weekend, but it was hard to focus on the text of the play while his little sister kept poking him with her toes. 

At least, he thought, resigned by now to the fact that she wouldn’t relent, even if he asked politely, her feet aren’t bare this time. 

Aside from the mild irritation Emma’s presence so often brought him, everything was peaceful. The rosy light of the sunset poured through the dirty windows, bathing their little apartment in orange. He could hear the faint sound of Kate bustling about, going back and forth from the hall closet to the bathroom. (She had come home from work an hour ago and taken a shower, only to notice the shower was draining slowly. Now she was clearing out the buildup of soap residue to resolve the problem.)

That was when the stillness of the evening was shattered by a loud knock at the door.

Emma swore, dropping her tennis ball (which immediately rolled away) as the pounding seemed to shake the walls.

“Can someone see who that is?” Called Kate. “I’m kinda busy here!”

“We’re on it!” Emma yelled back. And then, without missing a beat, she turned to Michael. “You heard her, go see who’s at the door.”

“What? Why can’t you do it?”

“‘Cause it’s probably Mrs. Brandt, an’ you’re her favorite.”

Michael groaned. Mrs. Brandt was in her sixties, lived on the floor above them, and was always going around to the other residents of the apartment building to try and get them to buy things from her. (She was part of at least one multi-level marketing scheme, maybe more.) She liked Michael because he called her ma’am and let her pinch his cheeks the first time they met, whereas Emma had tripped over her own untied shoelace and said fuck in the middle of the hall. 

Sometimes, Michael had come to realize after knowing Mrs. Brandt, being able to charm old people as easily as he did was more of a curse than a blessing.

Whoever was at the door knocked again. He groaned, brushed Emma’s feet off of him, and got up, bracing himself to be cooed over and invited to participate in amazing deals on amazing products. Emma, ever unsympathetic to his plight, ignored the look of consternation on his face and began crawling around on the floor, looking for her tennis ball.

“Sorry for the wait,” Michael said, as he unlocked the door and wrenched it open. “What can I do for…”

He trailed off, jaw going slack. It was not Mrs. Brandt, nor any of the other building residents, in the hall. Standing before the boy was a man, the biggest man he’d ever seen. He had to be at least seven feet tall, with powerful muscles and very pale skin. His head was bald as a stone. His smile was wide and mirthful and cruel. 

This man was already the most terrifying thing Michael had ever seen, but he was made even more fearsome by the creatures flanking him on either side. And make no mistake, they were creatures, half rotted things with yellow eyes, wrapped in black rags and clothed in ratty tunics, swords strapped to their hips. They smelt of rot, they looked like a collection of open sores, and they weren’t breathing. 

Michael gaped in horror, certain this had to be some sort of nightmare, or hallucination. But then the bald man began to speak.

“I’ll bet this is a bit of a shock for you, eh lad?” He had an Irish accent and an easy confidence. “We’ll try and make this quick then; we’re looking for a trio of siblings. Katherine, Michael, and Emma, their names are, and we have been told they live here. That correct?”

Michael nodded against his own volition, his body propelled by sheer terror. The man’s smile seemed to grow wider, crueler. “Grand. Absolutely grand. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. We’ve been looking for you for a very long time.”

“Wha… What…” He couldn’t even speak, he had begun to tremble so hard, his hand gripping the door handle for dear life. 

“Oh, but where are me manners? The name’s Rourke, and you must be Michael.”

“What’s happening?” Michael finally managed to choke out.

The bald man didn’t miss a beat. “What’s happening is you’re going to make this easy for everyone. Go fetch your sisters; you’re coming with us.”

“Michael?” He heard Emma calling his name from somewhere behind him. He didn’t know if she could see or hear what was happening, but just hearing her voice and knowing she was there sent a wave of strength coursing through him. Before Rourke or his monsters could react, the boy slammed the door shut and threw the lock. 

He heard one of the creatures snarling just beyond the wood. He could hear Rourke scoff.

“You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be. Make no mistake, we will force our way in there if we have to.”

Michael was already turning heel and dashing over to where Emma stood in the center of the living room, confusion on her face. “What’s happening?” She demanded. “Who was that? Were those guys dressed as mummies-”

“No. And they want to kidnap us,” Michael snapped. He was beginning to hyperventilate, barely holding it together. 

“What? Why-”

“I don’t know. Go tell Kate. I’ll call 911.”

For once, Emma didn’t argue. She dashed for the bathroom, where Kate was washing her hands after finishing with the drain. In a rush, Emma yelled exactly what Michael had told her, and watched as fear crossed her older sister’s face, followed by a hard sort of determination.

“Alright, we can lock ourselves in the bathroom until the cops come and-”

She was cut off by an earsplitting bang. They were trying to break down the door!

The sisters exchanged looks of horror as another sound, one even worse than the wood splintering under pressure, tore through the air. It was a ghastly screech, one that chilled their blood and halted their breath. It was the sound of a soul being torn into shreds.

In the kitchen, the landline clattered out of Michael’s hands as he heard the shriek. A gasp tore from his mouth. He could hear the 911 operator's tinny voice coming from the dangling receiver, trying to offer soothing words, trying to ask him for his address. He couldn’t process any of it. His knees began to wobble and he slumped against the wall.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” he wheezed.

“Hello?” The operator called. “Can you hear me?”

With a flail of his loose, uncontrollable limbs, Michael tried to grab the landline. He missed, the back of his knuckles clattering against the buttons and ending the call. The hang-up beep sounded and he stared in horror.

“Michael?” Kate bellowed. “Michael, are you okay?”

He wasn’t okay. He felt as though his lungs were made of glass, on the verge of shattering. 

“It’s breaking!” Emma exclaimed, and she sounded panicked, uncharacteristically so. Michael managed to shamble into the hall and collapse against Kate’s side – she instinctively wrapped an arm around his middle and held him up. The three of them watched, horror struck, as the door to their apartment was ripped off its hinges, revealing the bald giant and his monsters.

“What are those?” Kate whispered, faint as a ghost.

“We don’t know,” Michael answered, clinging tight to her arm.

“Alright kiddies,” Rourke boomed. “That’s enough- AH!”

Right as he took his first step across the threshold, Emma violently hurled the tennis ball she’d been playing with, hitting him dead in the eye. He snarled in rage. 

“Stay back!” Emma shrieked, even as Kate snapped out of her frozen stupor and began dragging her siblings away from the bald giant. “If you get anywhere near me I’ll kill you! You hear me? I’ll kill you, you bald bastard!”

Adrenaline coursing through her veins, Kate ushered her brother and sister into the bedroom. She shut the door and pressed her back against it, a wild look in her eye. “We’ve gotta blockade it,” she ordered. “Keep ‘im out until the cops come!”

“They’ll have to trace the call, I didn’t have time to give our address-”

“Then we make it sturdy! Move!”

Michael and Emma obeyed immediately, dragging over Michael’s bookshelf, laden with second-hand tomes, and shoving it against the door. Once it was there, Kate joined them in dragging more furniture over and piling it up high. The desk and chair her brother studied at and the trunk of random items at the foot of her sister’s bed were all added to the barricade, then one of the beds itself, even as a barrage of noise came from the other side of the door. Rourke and his monsters – who let out their horrible screams once again, making the siblings stumble and shudder – were already trying to find a way in.

“Okay,” Kate said, having just put the cardboard box where Michael kept his collection of interesting rocks atop the bookshelf, like an enormous paper-weight. Sweat ran down her forehead, and her voice was ragged and raw. Her siblings had to strain to hear her over the sound of Rourke’s pounding fists. “The dresser next.”

She nodded to the enormous set of cabinets, dashing over and grabbing one end. Emma took the other, with Michael grabbing at somewhere in the middle and doing what he could to assist his sisters. With a grunt, they began carrying the heavy thing across the room, even as their bodies trembled. They panted like dogs in the dead of summer, but continued all the same, propelled by sheer will to survive. 

“Why do they want us?” Emma rasped out as they turned and began positioning the dresser so that its flat, tall back would be towards the door. 

“I don’t know,” Michael replied, “but I know whatever it is ain’t good.” His mind was full of the terrible possibilities, all the ways the enormous man and his rotting servants could harm them.

“Just push this back. We can worry about the rest later,” Kate instructed in a clipped tone. 

As one, the three shoved the dresser into the barricade of furniture. Just as they did so, however, there was an awful splintering sound. The walls seemed to tremble, and the children exchanged glances of horror. Rourke was tearing this door off its hinges as well!

In terror, the trio backed away. Emma’s hands curled around the first object she could find – Michael’s plastic desk lamp, which was so light it had been tossed uselessly to the side rather than being thrown on the blockade. Michael clutched The Dwarf Omnibus, which he had removed from the bookshelf before pushing it towards the door, against his chest. Kate raised her arms as if to shield her brother and sister, though she knew it was futile. The door was being ripped away. The monsters were snarling, rabid wolves ready to feed. All three of them knew their hastily constructed barricade, heavy as it was, wouldn’t hold against the giant man’s brute strength for more than a few minutes. There was no way the police would make it before it crumbled.

“I’m so sorry, if I’d never answered the door…” Michael trailed off. The wobbling of his words was heartbreaking.

“It ain’t your fault. He’d have just broken in anyway, the bastard. I’ll kill him,” Emma said as fiercely as she could manage, but there was no hiding the undercurrent of fear and desperation in her voice. 

They both heard the snapping of wood and the thudding of fists and knew how truly dire this situation was.

As Rourke continued to batter their makeshift wall, Kate’s thoughts raced. He’s going to come in here. He’s going to kill us. He's going to hurt Michael and Emma. I failed them. I failed them. I broke my promise. I couldn’t protect them. I failed-

She gasped in realization. Like a bolt of lightning illuminating the pitch black night, an idea had come to her. 

“The fire escape!” She exclaimed, whirling around to look at her siblings. “We can climb down the fire escape!”

Michael shook his head. “The fire escape doesn’t connect to our window, it connects to the Langdon’s apartment,” he said, referencing the married couple who were their next door neighbors. 

“Then we’ll jump!”

“Do you really think we can make it?” 

“We have to.”

The barrage was growing louder, closer. One of the monsters let out a screech. Emma, wild eyed and determined, squared her shoulders. “If it’s between falling and getting killed by some creep, I’ll take the fall, every time.”

Michael looked at her for a brief moment, then swallowed and nodded. Kate was already opening the window as wide as it could go, letting a rush of frosty evening air into the room. Her siblings gathered behind her as she leaned out and looked at the jump they would have to make.

“It’s fifteen feet. We aren’t gonna be able to jump it straight across, not with the railing in the way. We’ll have to get to the platform below the Langdon’s.”

Emma let the lamp fall from her hands. “I can go first,” she offered. “That way, if Michael falls, I can catch him.”

It was a testament to the seriousness of their predicament that he didn’t so much as scoff at that. 

“Okay,” Kate urged. “Be careful.”

Emma nodded and allowed her sister to help her balance as she climbed through the open window. Kate gripped her ankle tight as she stood up straight, balancing on the four inch ledge.

“Ready?” She asked, her mouth dry, her tongue unwieldy. 

“Ready,” Emma said.

Kate released her hold on the younger girl and Emma leapt. With baited breath, her siblings watched as she flew through the air at a diagonal angle. She went over the metal railing and landed, cat-like, upon the platform below the Langdon’s. Her sneakers made a loud clang when they struck, and the impact seemed to reverberate through the whole building like the ring of a bell. 

Kate allowed herself to exhale and then turned to her brother. “You next,” she said, leaving no room for argument in her tone. He gulped, then secured The Dwarf Omnibus in the waistband of his jeans. 

Just as she’d done with Emma, Kate helped him get onto the windowsill. She could feel him trembling as he readied himself to jump.

“You can do this, Michael,” she urged. “I know you can.”

Her brother took a deep breath. “I can do this,” he murmured to himself.

“Ready? On three. One… two… three!”

Kate let go of his ankle and watched as, with a wild yelp tearing from his mouth, he jumped; he did not have Emma’s natural athletic grace. His limbs flailed wildly as he more fell than lept, and even as Kate heard the barricade coming undone behind her, even as she began climbing onto the windowsill herself, she feared that her brother would strike the protective railing or miss the platform altogether. 

But, though one of his feet clanged against it, and he wound up in a heap upon the metal ledge, he made it. She could see him groaning as Emma dragged him to his feet. She could also hear Rourke’s yelling, only muffled slightly by the howl of the wind. He and his monsters just had to move the dresser and they would be in the bedroom. There was no time for her to waste.  

Kate vaulted off the windowsill, putting all her strength into the jump. For a moment, there was nothing but empty air beneath her and wind whipping all around her. She was suspended above a great chasm, an enormous mouth that was more than eager to swallow her whole.

Then she was hitting the metal platform hard, her knees buckling, her legs giving out from the sheer force of the impact. A bolt of pain shot up through her and she would have certainly doubled over and collapsed, were it not for her brother and sister grabbing her arms and holding her up.

“Are you okay?” Michael asked. 

“That hurt like a bitch,” she grunted. “But nothing’s broken or pulled, just bruised. I can run. We gotta keep moving.”

Her siblings needed no encouragement. They began running down the metal stairs, only hesitating for the briefest amount of time needed to ensure their footing did not slip. A dozen rungs later, they reached the next platform down, which connected to the second floor of the building, and from which a vertical ladder descended to the ground. As Emma began making her way down that ladder, there were several of those awful, unnatural shrieks, and a bellow of sheer rage. Kate had to fight the urge to bite her knuckles or grind her teeth together, the harsh sounds were so brutal and terrifying. And Michael, who dared to look back up, went bone pale at the sight of Rourke’s bald head sticking out the open window of their apartment, anger twisting his features. 

A moment later, the man was gone, assuredly taking his monsters and heading for the regular stairs, trying to catch up to the escaping siblings. The boy swallowed tightly and began descending the ladder, Kate following quickly after. All three jumped several rungs before the end, landing on the barren ground below. 

“Where are we gonna go?” Emma questioned as Kate began running down the alleyway, her brother and sister right on her heels.

“There’s a fire station not too far away. We go there and we call the police again!”

And so they tore through the sidewalks and alleyways of Baltimore, running faster than any of them ever had before. Even Michael, who had always been picked last for any sporting event in school, dashed through the city, bathed in the fiery colors of the sunset, with such speed he would have trounced even the most athletic people in his grade. Their breath puffed out white into the December chill, creating a miniature cloud around their heads as they pushed past other pedestrians. Even when passersby shot them dirty looks or yelled insults they didn’t dare look back or slow down. All three knew in their bones that this was their only hope of escaping.

“This way!” Kate huffed, pointing down a long and narrow alley, a shortcut that would cut several blocks away from their route to the fire station. The paved sidewalk turned to patchy dirt beneath their pounding, aching feet as they were engulfed in the shadows between the buildings. Still, they did not slow up…

…Until, halfway through the alley, seemingly materializing from the gloom, a boy stepped out and blocked the siblings’ path. 

They stopped. Well, Kate and Michael stopped, and Emma, standing just behind them, was forced to freeze. (Had they not been blocking her, she would have likely kept running and shoved the boy out of the way.) Michael was shouting move! though his voice was so high-pitched and desperate and raw that the pronunciation had warped into something almost impossible to recognize. But Kate had simply frozen altogether, her expression stunned and slack, as though she were seeing a ghost.

“You,” she whispered, so softly her brother and sister had to strain to hear it.

The boy – he was really more of a young man, no more than a year older than Kate, with messy black hair, a pale face and crooked nose, and nondescript dark clothing – smiled, wide and toothy. “Hello.”

Michael and Emma exchanged looks of confusion and fright, entirely unsure of what was going on. Kate, who had stepped forward just a bit, just enough that she could shield her siblings with her body if necessary, was still wide-eyed with something like horror, or perhaps awe.

“You’re real…”

The boy’s wolflike smile settled into something more genuine, maybe even kind. “I am. And I meant what I said; I want to help you. I certainly don’t mean you harm.”

Their eyes met, and seeing that vivid green – a color so unique there was no misplacing it – Kate knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was not some sort of hallucination, or case of mistaken identity. This was the boy from her lucid dreams, the one she had thought was a figment of her lonely imagination, and he was real.

(So were rotting monsters, and giant men who attacked her family. She didn’t know what was happening, or why it was happening, only that it was, and that it was terrifying. She began to tremble like the last autumn leaf clinging to a tree, being battered by the winter wind.)

“I want you to know,” the boy said, taking a deliberate step closer, “how sorry I am. This isn’t how I intended for things to go.”

“Stay back!” Emma yelled, her hands balling into fists. Michael whimpered and held his book like a lifeline. Kate extended her arms slightly, keeping the two of them behind her. 

“I’m not going to hurt you. Please don’t be afraid.”

He was walking closer. Kate knew they needed to run, but she couldn’t move her legs. It was as though the boy were pinning her with his gaze, trapping her, a butterfly corpse behind glass. She could faintly hear, as if from far away, herself saying, “I don’t understand…” 

“I know. I’ll explain it to you soon enough. I promise.”

He raised his hand, and for a brief, wild moment, Kate thought he would reach out and touch her. 

He did not. Instead, the boy flicked his wrist and a spark of white light, like a star in miniature, flared atop his fingertips. With deftness, he tossed that light upwards and it dissolved into nothing save for a slight gossamer shimmer to the air, like a crisscrossing of spiderwebs. And then, whatever it was, Kate could feel it settling over her and her siblings. There was a weight to it; not an unpleasant heaviness, more like a warm blanket. Almost immediately she became lightheaded, her eyelids fluttering as a wave of drowsiness crashed upon her. 

She could see, from the corners of her eyes, the same thing happening to her siblings. Emma dropped first, her tight fists uncurling and her eyes shutting as she slumped slowly, almost gently, to the ground and landed on her side, unconscious. Michael fell a moment later, The Dwarf Omnibus still tucked under his arm as he closed his eyes and crumpled with that same pseudo-gracefulness until he was laid on his back. 

What had been done to them? What would happen now? Kate struggled to hold on to those questions and analyze the situation, or to even stay awake, standing above her siblings’ bodies and protecting them. She swayed back and forth on her heels. The world seemed to spin, shadowy city and sunset sky merging into one multicolored blur. 

The only thing in focus was a pair of emerald eyes, fixed upon her face. They were closer now, she realized, an instant before an arm wrapped around her, holding her upright even as her limbs went limp. She stared up into the boy’s face, into those intense eyes, and tried to speak, though her tongue had grown thick and useless with the onset of exhaustion.

“Who are you?”

“My name’s Rafe,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time.”

Before she could say anything more, or even digest what had just been said to her, another wave of tiredness coursed through her. She couldn’t make sense of anything; not even the strangeness or danger of this day. All she knew for sure was that her siblings were asleep on the ground behind her, and that this boy who shouldn’t be real was.

The last thing Kate remembered seeing, before sleep finally overtook her, was the eyes of the boy – Rafe. The endless green, both vivid and deep, ready to engulf her. 

***

After millennia of waiting and scheming and warring, The Dire Magnus did not take anything involving the Books of Beginning lightly, least of all their fated Keepers. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for his sadistic oaf of an enforcer, Rourke.

It had taken years, but he had finally located the missing Wibberly siblings in the city of Baltimore and learned, to his great shock, that they were entirely unguarded and unaware of the magical world and their destiny. Surely, he had thought, not even Stanislaus Pym would be foolish enough to utterly abandon them and hope he never came knocking. Surely the wizard had agents watching them or spells in place. But as he poked about, The Dire Magnus – Rafe, as only a select few knew him – realized that abandoning the Wibberlys was exactly what his old enemy had done. 

Well, Rafe had thought, the wizard’s neglect and ignorance created a golden opportunity for him. And so a plan fell into place.

He had always anticipated that when he finally tracked down the Wibberlys they would have been enlightened to the magical world and their status as Keepers. Pym and his ilk would have already told them of the Dire Magnus, casting him as the immovable enemy within their prophesied tale. But that hadn’t happened. The siblings had no preconceived notions of magic or of Rafe himself. He could, theoretically, swoop in before Pym and fill those voids, swaying them to his side. It would be so much easier to acquire the Books if the Keepers were working with him rather than against him. 

But, if Rafe was going to win the Wibberlys’ allegiance, he would only have a single chance at it and would need to be prepared. So he decided to enter their dreams via scrying and learn more about them. (He was able to do so easily; Pym, in his great foolishness, truly had put no protections on their dwelling to stop him.)

He had set about exploring the minds of the Wibberly siblings; their histories and personalities, their wants and their fears. He learned that the youngest, Emma, was fierce and impulsive, a born fighter who would do anything to protect her loved ones, but who was also terrified of loss. He learned the middle child, Michael, was a quick-witted and curious boy who loved his sisters but was nevertheless afraid to acknowledge and accept his own emotions. He learned the two had no real memories of their parents, and as such relief upon the care of their elder sister. (Rafe also learned that Michael and Emma Wibberly were nothing if not stubborn, and that they constantly bickered with one another.) 

Additionally, he had uncovered more about the conditions in which the Wibberlys had grown up. They were passed between orphanages up and down the East Coast, kept under the thumb of directors and staff who were occasionally kind but more often neglectful or downright cruel. They battled bullies and unsanitary conditions, facing fire and frost alike. They struggled to open up to outsiders. They scraped by. They were forced to fight with those in power to stay together. They longed for the return of their parents, but as the years passed the hope they kept weakened, a candle melting down. 

It was only the efforts of the eldest Wibberly sibling, Kate, which kept their family from shattering altogether.

Rafe had walked into her dreams as well and discovered a young woman entirely devoted to her brother and sister, who had grown up quickly so they didn’t have to, who shouldered every responsibility so Michael and Emma could be children. She was the one battling orphanage directors who wanted to split them apart, who tended their scrapes and tucked them in at night and made a million small sacrifices — giving up the warm shower, the biggest portion of food — for their sake. She was their parent in all the ways that counted, and as of recently, their guardian in the eyes of the law. As a result, Michael and Emma looked to her for guidance. Where she led, they would likely follow.

That was, he decided, the key to earning the Keepers’ favor. If Kate were to ally with him, Michael and Emma would too. He didn’t have to deal with all three separately; he only had to sway the eldest to his side and the others would quickly come along after her. 

However, this plan still had a great challenge; like her siblings, Kate did not trust easily. She was also incredibly protective of her charges, and so he would have to proceed with precision if he wanted to be welcomed into their lives. 

Once again, the dreams helped him figure out which angle to take. He began learning Kate Wibberly’s deepest thoughts — how she desperately wished she could give her siblings a better life than the one they currently lived, how whenever she could she put away money to search for her parents and pay for college tuition, how she seethed internally at the orphanage system that failed her brother and sister. He discovered the anger she barely acknowledged, the bone-deep exhaustion that had plagued her for so long, the prospect of failing her siblings that was her greatest fear. And, Rafe found out, she was also painfully lonely. Her most secret wish was for someone to extend a helping hand to her, so she wasn’t doing everything alone.

He could work with that. He could offer her the chance to better her siblings’ futures, to escape the cycle of poverty. He could be the helping hand she so yearned for. 

So he kept entering her dreams, no longer observing but speaking directly with her in a series of meetings where she grew increasingly lucid and verbose. She began opening up to him about all she felt, all that burdened her. And in return, Rafe validated her emotions, assuaged her fears, encouraged her to keep going. He even tried to subtly stoke her rage at the injustices done to her, to hint that there was someone particularly deserving of the blame. 

(He had decided that, once he was finally ready to bring the siblings into the world of magic, he would tell them of Stanislaus Pym, and in doing so turn the tables. They would learn the old wizard who so many characterized as good and kind had abandoned them to the orphanages, and was ready to lead them to their deaths to fulfill the prophecy. And once they learned those facts, they wouldn’t give Pym the time of day even if the wizard did track them down. No, the Keepers’ allegiance would remain firmly with the Dire Magnus.)

Rafe continued appearing to Kate, cultivating a friendly and understanding demeanor, working to earn her trust. His courtship of the eldest Wibberly was patient and methodical. It had to be – for all she yearned for someone to help shoulder her burdens, she wouldn’t accept the assistance of just anyone, especially not when her siblings’ wellbeing was a factor in the equation. He had to make it clear to her that not only did he want to help, he was the sort of person capable of doing the job right. 

It worked. Though she was convinced he was a figment of her imagination, he was certain he was setting things up so that when he revealed the truth she would have faith in him and readily accept his offerings. Each time he pulled away from the scrying bowl and out of her dreams, Rafe smiled, satisfied that his plan was coming to fruition. 

And if he also found himself interested in and content with talking to Kate… If he sensed a kindred spirit within her… If the way she cared for her brother and sister reminded him of the life he’d once led with the Savages, filling him with understanding and sympathy… If he couldn’t help but dwell on the fact that when he was saving and raising those thieves, he had an enchanted church to shelter in, and Miss B and Scruggs to lean on, while Kate only had herself and a matchbox apartment… If he admired how strong and diligent and loyal she was… Well, that was for Rafe and Rafe alone to know.

This would be a good deal for all of them, he told himself frequently. He would ensure the Wibberly siblings no longer had to struggle to survive, or to die in service of the prophecy, and in turn, he would get the Books. 

(Perhaps he would also get some decent company out of the arrangement; not the constant flattery and subservience of Rourke and all the others pledged to serve the Dire Magnus, but true companionship, the sort he hadn’t known since his time with the Savages. He would never admit it, but sometimes he missed that camaraderie. Being the last Dire Magnus made him the most powerful person in the world; it also set him apart from even those he was once so close to. Whoever said it was lonely at the top was onto something.)

Yes, everything was going as he wanted it to. Until the moment that it wasn’t.

The problem, as it so often was, was Stanislaus Pym. Rafe’s contacts in the magical quarter of Baltimore, as well as the Imps he had sent to keep an eye on the Wibberly siblings’ apartment, reported the wizard was supposed to come to the city within the next couple of days. That was an issue; Rafe was almost ready to approach the Keepers outside of the realm of dreams, and he needed to ensure Pym didn’t get to them first. 

He needed more powerful forces than a couple spies and a half-dozen Imps stationed in Baltimore to head off the wizard if need be. So, Rafe sent Rourke, along with some Screechers, to the city with clear orders. Watch the Wibberlys’ and their apartment. If Pym attempts to make contact with them, prevent him from doing so by any means necessary. 

Mere hours after the quarter-giant stepped through a portal and embarked on this mission, Rafe received a message from one of the Imps who had been in Baltimore for weeks now. Apparently, after arriving in the city, Rourke decided to “show some initiative” and take matters into his own hands.

“For fuck’s sake,” Rafe muttered after reading that. Nothing good happened when Rourke decided to implement his own ideas. The man was a brutal fighter, one of the best in the world, but he lacked subtlety, and – apparently – sense. 

He continued reading the message. Rourke took the Screechers and decided to capture the Keepers by force, absconding with them before Pym even had the chance to arrive. 

Rafe let out a cry of anger and set the paper ablaze. All his careful machinations, his weeks of diplomacy, could be ruined with one swing of Rourke’s over-large sword! He seethed at the thought, even as he abandoned his ash-coated desk and ran into the hall, yelling orders as he went. He would have to move quickly if he wanted to salvage the plan.

And if it can’t be salvaged, he thought darkly, Rourke will suffer. His skills are useful, but not unique, and he clearly needs a reminder of that fact. 

That was how the Dire Magnus arrived in Baltimore, just in time to head off the Wibberly siblings as they ran pell-mell through an alleyway, fleeing his incompetent servant. They froze at the sight of him, and Rafe watched Kate’s eyes, flashing gold in the light of the setting sun, go wide as she recognized him. He felt a flash of joy at finally meeting her and her siblings face to face.

His excitement was short-lived, however, when he saw how panicked the siblings were. Rourke truly had made a mess of things. They were in no state to listen to him now, and the commotion of his monsters and the Keeper’s flight through the city would surely attract attention. Both human police and magic users affiliated with Pym – if not the old wizard himself – would surely be arriving soon, and he didn’t want to battle any of them today. Not when he was unprepared for the fight, and not when the Keepers were finally within reach.

There was only one feasible option; a sleeping spell. He cast it, watching his magic settle over the trio. He would bring them back to his base of operations and bargain with them there, away from any interfering forces. It wasn’t as seamless as the original plan, but it would have to do. 

Michael and Emma crumpled to the ground – unharmed, of course, he had no interest in causing them any pain. A few moments later, Kate’s legs also gave out, but, propelled forward by sheer instinct, he caught her as she fell. His arm wound around her waist, holding her to him. She stared into his eyes, shock and confusion and fear and that ever-present determination written across her face. 

“Who are you?” She murmured, even as sleep began to claim her. 

He didn’t have to answer. In fact, it probably would have been better to hold off on answering until later. But he told her all the same. 

“My name’s Rafe,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time.”

It was the truth. He had watched forests fall, mountains rise from flat plains, empires crumble, as he waited for the Keepers – for Kate, he corrected himself, for now that he had met her, he could no longer think of the Keepers in an abstract sense, as nameless and faceless obstacles on his quest for the Books. They were Kate and her siblings, who were vivid and real, who he had grown somewhat fond of as he learned more and more about them over these past weeks. 

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching pulled him from his thoughts. He glanced over to see Rourke, sweaty and scowling, the greenish shadow of a bruise beginning to form under one eye, approaching. When he saw Rafe standing there, holding the unconscious Kate, the other two Wibberly siblings laying at their feet, his face went slack. 

“My Lord,” he blubbered. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

“I arrived just in time, luckily for you,” Rafe said in a voice like ice. “If you, in your impulsivity, let the Keepers slip away from us – if you chased them into Pym’s hold – I wouldn’t be nearly as civil as I am now.”

“My Lord, I was trying to keep the wizard from getting his hands on them. I thought-”

“You thought you’d go in guns-blazing and ruin all the progress I have made towards an alliance; delicate, complex work nearly made worthless because of your love of a fight and your arrogant need to feel in charge.”

Rourke’s jaw was tight, but he didn’t protest this assessment. He didn’t dare.

“Rest assured we will be discussing your actions further. But first, we must attend to the Keepers. Carry them.” He nodded to Michael and Emma. 

Wordlessly, his head tilted down in shame, the quarter-giant gathered up the younger Wibberlys. When he straightened up again, he had a teenager thrown easily over each shoulder and a grimace on his face. A trail of drool slipped from between Michael’s lips, dampening the enormous man’s shirt. Emma kicked aimlessly in her sleep, her feet repeatedly thudding against Rourke’s back. That grimace somehow deepened. 

“My Lord-”

“Yes, Rourke?” Rafe fixed him with a glare that suggested he better keep his complaints to himself if he valued his life. 

The man swallowed down whatever gripe he was on the verge of making and instead asked, “would you like me to summon a Screecher to take her?” He jutted his chin out towards Kate. 

“No,” said Rafe. “I’ll carry her myself.”

Rourke’s brows raised in confusion, but he didn’t dare question his master. 

Rafe fit one arm beneath the bend of Kate’s knees, the other remaining around her lower back, so he was holding her in a bridal carry, clutched right against his chest. Her head was positioned just above his beating heart. 

“Come along,” he ordered, striding out of the alleyway. He murmured a quick spell that would conceal himself, Rourke, and the Wibberlys from the eyes of anyone passing by, and began making his way towards the portal. Rourke followed, still being kicked at and drooled upon all the while.

They, and the Screechers, returned to the Dire Magnus’s stronghold. (The Imps he had stationed in the city would remain where they were, monitoring the movements of Pym and his allies as they searched for the now missing Wibberlys.) Once they were secure within the fortress’s walls, Rafe led the way to a guest room he’d ordered be prepared right before he dashed off to Baltimore. He had a feeling Rourke’s hasty actions would result in the need to host guests sooner than expected.

The room was sparse but clean, lit by candles mounted to the walls, with three beds made up with linens lining the back, a pair of nightstands in the spaces between the beds, and a low table and some cushions positioned to the side. Rafe nodded to Rourke, who unceremoniously deposited Emma in one bed and Michael in another. Rafe gently placed Kate in the third. Then he turned to his underling:

“You are dismissed for now. I have a few more things to take care of, but afterwards we will be having a talk about your conduct today.”

He took satisfaction in the bob of the giant man’s throat as he gulped nervously. “Of course,” Rourke murmured, before bowing low and exiting the room. 

Once he was gone, Rafe circled around to each of the beds. He took the shoes off each of the siblings and set them neatly on the floor, and moved Michael’s book — a well worn tome about dwarves, he noted — to one of the nightstands. He rolled Emma onto her back so she wasn’t smushing her face into the pillow and risking suffocation, and threw a quilt atop Michael’s legs when he noticed the boy was shaking a little bit in his sleep. He drew Kate’s blanket up around her and brushed errant strands of hair from her face, lingering at her bedside without reason for a minute longer before finally walking away.

After closing the bedroom door behind him, Rafe meandered down the dark corridors towards his office, thinking of the siblings and what would happen when they awoke, and how lucky it was that he’d gotten there in time to salvage Rourke’s mistake. Had his Imps not alerted him to the situation, and had he not reacted to that information so quickly, the Wibberlys might have been driven away, right into the grasp of Stanislaus Pym.

Rafe’s hands curled into fists at the mere thought of him. The old man had been a thorn in his side for ages. A while ago, Pym and his band of fellow wizards had even wounded Rafe to the point of near-death, and destroyed a great number of his forces. The Dire Magnus had no choice but to lay low for a long time after that, recovering from his wounds and rebuilding his army. But even those setbacks paled in comparison to Pym’s actions with the Keepers. He had spirited them away into hiding, only to lose track of them altogether, leaving them to the wolves!

Rafe knew that the wizard’s failures were his gain, and so if anything he should be grateful for the old man’s lack of care. But instead it kindled his rage. The Keepers were the only ones who could find the Books, they were essential to Pym’s plan, and they were the children of his supposed friends to boot — and this was how he treated them? Abandoning them to a life of neglect and abuse within orphanages, leaving them unprotected and alone, scraping by in life. Was this truly the best he could do for them? 

If so, the Dire Magnus was borderline insulted. He certainly would never be so careless with the siblings who were tied by fate to the most powerful magic ever known. It was almost insulting how little Pym had done, as though he wasn’t taking this seriously at all. 

(Additionally, there was a part of Rafe that saw Pym’s complacency and remembered all the people who looked the other way or failed to act when his Savages were suffering. All those who didn’t care when they — like the Wibberlys — were fending for themselves in a world that was only too eager to tear them down. Pym was just like those bystanders of the past, arrogant and naive, and it filled Rafe with scorn. And when he compared the old wizard’s actions to all he and Henrietta and Scruggs had once done to keep the Savages safe… When he thought of Kate — who had none of the education or prestige or wealth that Pym possessed, but a thousand times the strength — working two jobs and sacrificing every bit of herself to care for her siblings… He transcended scorn altogether and became a being of pure rage.)

Honestly, the Keepers will probably be better off with me than they would with Pym, Rafe thought as he entered his office. At least I’ll put the effort in to ally with them. At least I won’t treat them like the dirt under my boot, or lead them like lambs to the slaughter. 

He sighed, calming slightly. Yes, Pym was infuriating, but he had lost. Rafe had the Keepers and that was all that mattered. He had to focus on them, on the plan.

Rourke’s foolishness had dealt a harsh blow to all his prior efforts. The Wibberlys were not going to be pleased to find they’d been bespelled and stolen away, especially not when they learned Rourke worked for him. (Briefly, Rafe considered denying any association with the quarter-giant, but he quickly scrapped that idea, reasoning they would likely not believe him.) 

He needed to regain their trust, enough that they would agree to work with him. His original bargaining chips of financial assistance and answers about the world of magic no one ever bothered explaining to them wouldn’t be enough. He needed something more, something that would go far in earning their allegiance.

Rafe glanced at a sheet of paper poking out of a stack on his desk; it was a report from the Imps guarding the New York City manor and the prisoners kept there. He had been turning over ideas on what to do with them now that he had the Keepers for days now. He’d considered disposing of them; their loss could make the Wibberlys more dependent on his assistance, but it could also backfire tremendously if they suspected he had a role in the loss of their parents. (And, for all his ruthlessness, he preferred not to have to cause such pain to the Wibberly siblings. That was the whole point of this, after all; concluding the hunt for the books in a way that was easy for him and them alike.) Now, with the added pressure of damaged diplomatic relations, he abandoned that idea completely and decided on a different route.

Nothing would earn him goodwill with the Wibberly siblings like reuniting them with their parents. It would do wonders to fix what Rourke had recklessly broken. But Rafe obviously could not allow the siblings to learn about his own role in Richard and Clare’s absence. He had come up with a potential solution to that problem; it would be tedious and delicate work, but he was convinced he could alter Richard and Clare’s memories so that they believed someone else had been holding them prisoner all this time.

Perhaps, Rafe thought, he would make everyone believe their jailer had been none other than Stanislaus Pym, locking them away so they could not interfere in his plan to sacrifice their children in pursuit of the prophecy. Such a narrative would not only remove a potential source of distrust towards the Dire Magnus, it would also further the divide between the Pym and the Wibberly family. The wizard would never sway them to his side if they believed him to be the root of their separation. 

The thought brought a smile to his face. He jotted down a note to contact one of his Necromati, who was particularly good at memory magic, so they could begin the process as soon as possible.

And once he’d earned the Keepers’ allegiance, the Books would fall into his hands. He would remake the world into what it should be; a universe where magic thrived and where he ruled all. And this universe would be one where the Wibberlys got to live, which was more than Pym could say for his plans.

Rafe thought of fierce Emma and quick-minded Michael — both stubborn and more than a little annoying, both loyal and admirable in their own right. In another life, they would have fit right in with the Savages. After his escapades in their dreams, he couldn’t help but like them, at least a little bit. He would be glad to have them on his side.

And then there was Kate… He pictured her expression, weary and steadfast all at once, the care in her voice when she spoke of her siblings, her unyielding protectiveness and deep loneliness. She was the rare sort of person who gave their all to those they loved, who stood up and fought when others would turn away. He admired her for it. He’d begun entering her dreams with a script, performing a dance to cultivate trust; but as time wore on, Rafe found his desire to be the helping hand and listening ear she yearned for growing more and more genuine. 

Shaped by tragedy, burdened with responsibility and lonely because of it, devoted to the children in their care, fated for indescribable power. The more Rafe thought about it, the more it seemed he and Kate Wibberly were two sides of the same coin. 

It must be a sign, he thought. We were always meant to meet. Our destinies are one.

Rafe pictured threads of green and gold winding together, intertwined so tight they were impossible to separate, and his smile widened.

***

The moment Kate began stirring awake, she knew something was wrong. Whatever she’d been sleeping on was warm, and comfortable, and therefore definitely not the couch in her apartment. She opened her eyes and found herself in a dimly lit and strangely medieval room, the roof and walls made of stone. She blinked in confusion at the sight, trying to understand what was going on-

A gasp tore from her mouth as she remembered Rourke and those monsters, the desperate flight from the apartment that even now had her muscles aching, the boy from her dreams — Rafe — stepping into the alleyway. She remembered his green eyes flashing and the spark of light that appeared at his fingertips and how Michael and Emma had fallen unconscious.

A groan from somewhere to her right had her sitting up and looking over to see two more beds, with Michael and Emma lying atop them. Her shoulders slumped in relief. They had been abducted by someone she thought was a figment of her imagination, but they were still together. They had each other, and so they could get through this, just as they’d gotten through everything else.

Climbing out of bed, her footfalls muffled by her socks, she strode over to Emma, tossing and turning in the center bed. She put a gentle hand on her sister and murmured her name.

“It’s okay,” she soothed, “I’m here. I got you.”

Emma sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Kate? What happened? There was the bald man, and then that boy… What’s going on?”

“I don’t know exactly. We were knocked out and taken to… whatever this place is.” She gestured around the stone room. “I don’t know, I just woke up myself.”

Her sister frowned deeply at that. “I still don’t know why someone would bother kidnapping us in the first place.”

“I don’t either. That’s why we need to wake Michael and find out what’s happening. Okay?”

Emma nodded and slipped out of bed. Together they woke their brother, both relieved to find he, like them, was disoriented but unharmed. Then, once they were all awake, they sat on Michael’s bed, clutching each other tight and trying to put puzzle pieces together. 

“That boy in the alley did something to us, put us to sleep,” Michael recalled. “Between that and those rotting, shrieking monsters, we know this has to be some sort of magic…”

Kate found herself nodding in agreement. Emma pursed her lips, looking ready to argue (probably on principle, because she always got huffy when Michael was right about anything). She opened her mouth, but was cut off by her sister before she could get a word in.

“Not the time,” Kate murmured, squeezing Emma’s hand. The younger girl rolled her eyes but acquiesced. Michael just kept on talking. 

“…so we can conclude the boy is definitely a sorcerer. However, The Dwarf Omnibus doesn’t describe any monsters like those screaming ones. I wonder if they have a particular habitat and rarely cross paths with dwarves as a result. That would explain the lack of- Ah! What was that for?”

Emma had reached over and flicked him. “You’re blubbering about dwarves again.”

“You were going on a bit of a tangent,” Kate agreed.

“Oh.” Her brother’s cheeks reddened. “Sorry. There’s just a lot to process at the moment.”

“It’s okay. Let’s just try and figure out what’s going on here.”

“What’s going on is a bunch a’ magic weirdos kidnapped us!” Emma seethed, crossing her arms tight. 

“Well, yes,” Michael said. “But that just raises more questions. Who are the ‘weirdos’ exactly? What do they want? And… Kate?”

“Yes, Michael?”

“When the boy appeared in the alley, you recognized him. You were surprised he was real. What was that about?”

Kate reached up, fiddling with the chain of her locket whilst explaining, “he’s been in these weird dreams I’ve been having recently. I thought he was a figment of my imagination, but then… well…”

“He showed up in real life,” finished Emma.

“Exactly. And when you two passed out and I asked what was happening he said his name was Rafe and that he’d been looking for us.”

“So he’s been searching for and then observing us for a bit now,” Michael surmised. “But that still leaves the question of why-“

He froze mid-sentence, as someone knocked twice upon the heavy wooden door to their room. His eyes were wide and nervous, almost rabbit-like, as he gripped his elder sister’s arm. Emma jumped to her feet and raised her fists, her lips parting in a sneer. Kate swallowed and tried to make her voice as steady as possible.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Rafe: May I come in?”

The siblings exchanged glances; none of them particularly wanted to let the boy in, but what choice did they have? Denying him entry certainly wouldn’t make him go away, it would only risk annoying him.

“Sure,” Kate answered after a long pause. “Come in.”

The door opened and the boy entered. He was dressed simply and smiling easily, looking so ordinary compared to their surroundings and circumstances it was borderline unsettling. He pulled over one of the stools from the side of the room and moved it near the bed, so he could sit a few feet away and face them. “This alright?” He asked, gesturing to it.

“It’s fine,” murmured Kate.

Rafe took a seat, and then a deep breath. “I just want to begin by saying I didn’t want it to be this way, and I’m sorry things happened as they did back in Baltimore-“

“You mean when Rourke and them monsters attacked us and then you kidnapped us with magic?” Emma sneered.

“…Yeah. That was… Look, you have every right to be upset with me. And as for Rourke, I’m angry with him too. I never wanted him to attack you all; he came up with that all on his own and things got out of hand.”

“And you kidnapped us,” Emma repeated, crossing her arms stubbornly.

The boy sighed. “Yes. And I’m truly sorry for that. I know this must be frightening and confusing for you all, and that you’re mad. I understand. But I couldn’t risk you fleeing from Rourke and ending up in danger.”

“What-“

Rafe held up a hand and cut Michael’s nervous squeak of a question off. “Please, just give me the chance to explain why I did what I did. If you don’t forgive me afterwards, that’s fine, just let me tell you what’s going on.”

A beat of silence passed, then… “Okay,” Kate said. “We’re listening.”

The boy looked at her gratefully. “Thank you. Thank you so much. Now, where to start?”

“Maybe with the magic,” Michael offered.

“Good a place as any,” Rafe agreed. “So I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that magic is real…”

He launched into an explanation, telling the siblings of a Separation that hid the world of magic away from the rest of Earth, and made all of humanity forget it ever existed. He confirmed that yes, the creatures Michael read about so eagerly did exist; dragons, goblins, elves, and the dwarves he so loved. And then he told the siblings of a magical city called Rhakotis, located on the coast of ancient Egypt, and how its council of sorcerers had embarked on a great project to create three books which would contain the magic that made up the universe. He told them how they succeeded in crafting these tomes, holding the powers of life and death, time and space — The Books of Beginning. And he explained that the books disappeared when Alexander the Great sacked the city, never to be seen again.

Emma scoffed and asked what that had to do with her and her family, and Rafe answered. He explained that, centuries after the books were lost, a prophecy was delivered by a powerful seer. The books would be found someday by three children who were their destined Keepers. Kate, Michael, and Emma were those Keepers.

“Bullshit,” said Emma.

“What?” Kate said at the same time. “That can’t be right. We aren’t magical, we’re just…” She trailed off and picked at a fraying thread of the bedsheet, unable to process what she was hearing. 

Rafe shook his head and continued, kindly but firmly. “It’s you. And I’m far from the only one who knows it. Others know and are searching for you, and they won’t hesitate to do you harm. That was why I had to bring you here, because some of them were closing in and I couldn’t risk letting them find you.”

Emma continued to protest. “Are you sure you got the right siblings? What if you kidnapped us for nothing? I mean, me and Kate are badass enough to be part of a magic prophecy, sure, but Michael? Really?”

“Hey!” Michael, who had been clutching the blanket like a lifeline as this information was relayed to him, his face growing pale and fearful, snapped out of his stupor to glower at his younger sister. 

“What?” Emma said, unrepentant. “You can’t even do a push up, you’re hardly chosen one material-“

“At least I have a working brain, you-“

“Michael, Emma,” Kate cut in. “Stop arguing and let Rafe talk.”

They shut up, and Rafe mouthed thank you to Kate before continuing. “I know this is hard to believe, but you are the Keepers. And, well… I believe that’s why your parents left you all those years ago; they knew of your destiny and they thought you would be safer, better hidden from those who would do you harm.”

There was a beat. Then: “How do you know our parents left?”

It was the first time Emma had allowed herself to show vulnerability in this conversation.

Rafe’s voice was gentle when he answered. “I wanted to understand your circumstances, to check and see if you were the right siblings and if you were in imminent danger. So I used magic to enter your dreams, and learned the basics of your past that way.”

“But surely our parents wouldn’t have spent over ten years away if that was the case,” Michael pressed. “So why didn’t they come back?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps they encountered trouble. Perhaps they had people they trusted to keep tabs on you and those people let them down.”

Kate and her siblings allowed those grim possibilities, the hints of answers to the questions that had defined their lives, to sink in. Then she swallowed dryly and said, “you still haven’t explained who you are and why you were looking for us. Or what happened to make you kidnap us.”

“Or where we are and how long we’ve been here,” added Emma.

“Or what those rotting monsters are,” said Michael.

The boy sighed once more. “That’s fair. I’m, as you’ve already figured out, a sorcerer. The sorcerer in charge around here, technically. The creatures are called Morum Cadi, and they work for me. So does Rourke, though he went rogue in attacking your apartment; that won’t happen again. It’s been almost twenty four hours since I took you from Baltimore, and you’re in the fortress we operate out of-“

“This is a fortress?” Michael wondered, looking around at the stone walls, as if trying to prize secrets from their nooks and crannies with only his gaze.

“You’re in charge,” Emma said skeptically. “Of an entire fortress? How’d that happen?”

While Kate wouldn’t have asked it so bluntly, she had to admit she was also curious. The boy couldn’t have been more than a year older than her, but was somehow in charge of an entire fortress. It didn’t make sense. (Then again, few things about this entire series of events did.)

“I inherited the position from my predecessor. He was old and powerful and the one who set up this place, who made the Morum Cadi.” Rafe offered them a small smile. “When he died, I took over. Rourke was already there by that point, just so you know. I didn’t choose him, he came with the job.”

Emma snorted at that. Kate and Michael just nodded. (The former also wondered just how long ago Rafe’s predecessor had died. It probably came as a shock for this teenage boy to go from an apprentice to the one issuing commands. Then again, given how perfectly at ease he seemed, he must have adjusted to the role.)

“My predecessor, and his predecessors before him, have searched for the Books of Beginning for decades. The magical world is… fraught, even with the Separation. There’s a lot of infighting.”

“Dwarves battling goblins, gnomes and pixies warring, sorcerers competing for status,” Michael murmured, evidently thinking of all he’d read in The Dwarf Omnibus.

“Exactly. It’s a mess. The Council of Loris - the magical government - is a disaster too, and has only gotten worse over the years. My predecessor feared there’d be a complete collapse of our world unless someone were to do something. The books have the power to repair the destruction to magical lands, to heal and defend, and they’re a reminder of the harmony that once existed in Rhakotis. Finding them would bring stability to our world.”

“And you’re continuing his mission,” said Kate. “That’s why you were looking for us.”

“That’s one of the reasons, yeah. That’s also why a lot of people are listening to me, because they followed my predecessor and now they believe in my ability to fulfill what he started.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Really? Rourke is a devout believer in bringing peace and prosperity to the magical world? I can’t see it.”

Rafe chuckled. “Neither can I. My predecessor saved Rourke’s life, and in return he took a vow of servitude. That’s how he ended up here; I cannot stress enough that it wasn’t my decision to hire him.”

Some of the tension Kate’s shoulders had lessened, she noticed with surprise. Despite everything, the boy’s easy demeanor and reassuring presence was putting her at ease, just as it had done in her dreams.

“What’s the other reason?”

“Huh?” Rafe turned to look at Michael.

The boy elaborated, “you said looking for the books was only part of the reason you were searching for us. What’s the other reason?”

Rafe’s good-humored expression turned more serious, then. “There are others searching for you and they would do you harm if they could. I needed to get there first, to ensure they didn’t get the chance.”

“What others? Why would they harm us?”

“Some are also searching for the books and simply don’t care about hurting you to make you cooperate. Some believe the books’ power shouldn’t be accessed, especially not by three teenagers — they don’t care that you’re the Keepers, and they want to prevent you from fulfilling your destiny at all costs. And then there’s Stanislaus Pym…”

“Who is he?” Asked Kate.

“Pym is a very old and powerful wizard, who has a lot of influence in the community, as he’s a member of the Council of Loris. He’s considered kind and persuasive. He also has a warped interpretation of the prophecy; he wants to find the books and ‘bring them together’ in some sort of ritual, which he believes will rid the world of evil. But this ritual will result in the deaths of the Keepers… of you three. He wants to sacrifice you in service of what he sees as a greater good.”

“He sounds zealous,” whispered Michael. He clung to his sister’s arm once more.

“He is,” Rafe agreed. “And a contact of mine in Baltimore’s magic quarter said he was high-tailing it towards the city. He’d tracked you three down and was coming to get you. That’s why I sent Rourke; to intercept him before he could get close. Of course, Rourke decided it would be better to enact his own plan, because he’s an egotistical buffoon… That’s also why I put you to sleep and brought you here. I couldn’t risk Pym finding you first.”

“I’m really sorry,” he added. “I wanted to approach you civilly, on your turf, and have this conversation. I didn’t want to frighten you. But I also want to keep you alive.”

“Why?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why do you care if we live or die?” Emma asked.

“Well, he does need our help to find these books,” Michael answered.

“That’s true,” Rafe said. “But I also don’t want teenagers to be murdered. I’d hope most people felt that way.”

“You’ve clearly never met some of our orphanage directors,” Kate muttered.

“Miss Crumley would’ve let a serial killer adopt us it meant she didn’t have to deal with us any more,” Emma added in a much louder voice.

Rafe’s expression hardened, green eyes flashing. “She sounds… quite unpleasant.”

“She is,” Michael said, “but this isn’t about her. Even if we believe you when you say that you wanted to save our lives and not hurt us, you still kidnapped us. What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to offer you a choice, just like I planned to do all along. You now know what’s going on and can make an informed decision. You can either return to your old life, knowing that magical forces might come for you…”

“Or?”

“Or you can stay here, and we can work together. If you stay and help me find the books-“

“You can keep us safe from Pym and all them?” Emma guessed.

“Yes, I can protect you, and teach you about magic, but I can also do so much more. If you stay I can help you. You won’t have to struggle for money anymore; I’ll take care of whatever you need. Hell, if you want to be paid for searching for the books, I’ll pay you. And once this is done you can live comfortably, and go to college or pursue your dreams! And… If you want, I could help you search for your parents.”

They stared at him. He glanced away, looking somewhat sheepish. “Aside from my own magical power, I inherited resources — money, allies, that sort of thing — from my predecessor. It’d go a long way in getting answers.”

“What if they ran into trouble, like you said earlier?” Pressed Kate. “What then?”

“Then I’ll do whatever it takes to get them out of trouble and reunite your family.”

He swallowed and got to his feet. “I can’t say getting the books will be easy; they’ve been missing for millennia after all. But if you help me, I’ll help you in turn; anything in my power to give you, I’ll give it. And I promise, if you stay, I will ensure no harm comes to you. You will be safe here. I swear it.”

“Rafe…” Kate started, but she trailed off, unsure of what to say. The boy shivered at the sound of his name falling from her lips.

“You don’t have to decide now,” he said quickly. “I know this is a lot to process. Take whatever time you need; hours, days, whatever. This place is well hidden so there's no rush, and while you decide, I’ll see to it that your needs are met.” 

“Okay,” murmured the siblings.

“There’s a bathroom right across the hall if you need it,” he informed them. “And I’m sure you’re hungry, so I’ll go grab you some food.”

“Thanks,” Michael said.

“Are we allowed to leave the room?” Emma asked.

“If you don’t mind chancing a run in with a Morum Cadi; they won’t do anything, of course, but their mere appearance can be startling.” His expression softened. “You’re not prisoners here, but if you could wait until I return with the food to leave this hall, I’d appreciate it. There’s nothing dangerous — I’ve locked away all the magical items that could cause trouble — I just don’t want you to get lost; this place can be a maze and I want to bring you a map. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Michael, answering for all three of them.

Rafe smiled at them, his green gaze lingering for an extra moment on Kate’s face. “I hope that despite the circumstances, you’re comfortable here. I really want us to be friends.”

And with that, he left the room, calling a final assurance that he’d return soon with their dinner. The door closed, and the trio was left alone once more.

“Holy fucking shit,” said Emma. Michael didn’t even bother to tell her off for cussing, that was how overwhelming their circumstances had become. Instead, he looked at his elder sister, lip quivering as he spoke:

“What are we going to do, Kate?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted reluctantly. Her hands were curled into fists as she tried to resist the urge to bite her nails.

“We can’t stay here,” Michael continued. “Emma and I have school, and we all have jobs, and…” He trailed off, as if suddenly realizing how empty their lives were. They had no friends waiting for them back in Baltimore, no hobbies or projects they were passionate about. It was debatable if anyone would even notice they were gone; the only one who might care enough to report them missing was their landlord, and that would only be because the apartment was trashed.

“I don’t think what we have or don’t have in Baltimore matters,” Emma said. “What matters is if we can trust a word this Rafe guy says. He seems all nice and shit, but he still kidnapped us, and he associates with Rourke and those screaming things, even if he didn’t tell ‘em to attack us.”

“But if he’s telling the truth and people want us dead, we’re in a lot of danger,” Kate said.

“And there’s the matter of our parents,” Michael said.

Kate nodded. “And there’s that, yes.”

“So we’re stuck between a rock and a hard place,” Emma muttered. “And we gotta figure out how to climb out before we’re crushed or we gotta, like, chew off a limb.” 

Michael closed his eyes and sighed. “As unpleasant as that analogy is, I don’t necessarily disagree.”

“Me either,” Kate said. “But we also need to think. Absorb all of this information. Let’s just… let’s wait until after dinner. We probably shouldn’t be making life or death decisions on empty stomachs.”

Michael and Emma nodded and they lapsed into silence as they contemplated all they’d learned and waited for Rafe to return. Each sibling took a turn venturing out of the room to the bathroom across the way, and then they all flopped back onto Michael’s bed. Kate held her siblings close, one tucked under each arm. Michael rested his head upon her shoulder. Emma snuggled into her side. The three breathed in unison, allowing the simple fact of their togetherness to bring comfort. Whatever happened, they still had each other.

About twenty minutes after he left, Rafe returned. He knocked on the door and then, when given permission to enter, brought in a big tray laden with dishes. He smiled at the siblings as he set it on the short table in the corner. 

“I considered making a room service joke, but I’m not sure this is the time.”

“Probably not,” Kate said, though she was a tad amused by him despite everything.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask,” he told her, and then he was gone again. When the door clicked shut behind him, the siblings moved from the bed to the mismatched array of cushions and stools surrounding the table. Emma plopped down on a big pillow. Michael perched upon the shortest stool. Kate sat cross legged between them, and inspected what the boy had brought them.

There were three bowls of soup, small dumplings filled with meat and vegetables floating in semi-translucent gold broth. There was a loaf of grainy brown bread with a pleasant but mild aroma and a pad of butter, small yellowish apples, another bowl filled with a mix of raspberries and strawberries, and two jugs, one containing water and the other milk. There were also plates and cutlery. 

Kate looked down at her soup, which was incredibly appetizing. She felt ravenous, but still hesitated, a horrible idea suddenly occurring to her. What if the food was enchanted or tampered with, she wondered. She knew her thoughts were somewhat paranoid, but she couldn’t help them. She recalled snatches of true crime programs blared across the radio, and scary stories told by orphanage bullies to frighten the younger children. She thought of the myth of Persephone and the pomegranate that bound her to her captor for eternity. 

“Kate,” Emma asked, “do you think it’s safe?”

Her expression was one of obvious hunger, her eyes wide and pleading. On Kate’s other side, Michael’s stomach audibly growled.

“I’ll try it first,” she said, “just to be safe. But if I’m fine in a couple minutes, you two can start eating.”

She took a spoon and ate one of the dumplings. The taste of spiced meat — mutton, perhaps — burst on her tongue. Two or three minutes passed without incident, and so she gave her siblings permission to dig in.

The food was warm and filling, and they devoured it without haste. Soon the soup was gone, as was half the loaf of bread and most of the berries. Several apples had been gnawed to the core, and the milk jug had been emptied by the combined efforts of Kate and Emma. (Michael had tried the milk and nearly spat it after one tiny sip; it either came from a different sort of cow than he was used to or another animal altogether, and he wasn’t at all a fan of the sour taste. He stuck with the water.)

Once dinner was finished and the dishes were stacked upon the tray — courtesy of Kate — the trio returned to sitting on the bed and debating what to do next. They turned over the information they had learned, and the possibilities of what to do next. They weighed the risks of Rafe being a liar with the risks of what could happen if he was telling the truth about the books and Stanislaus Pym. 

“If we were to go back to Baltimore,” Kate mused at one point. “I’m not sure we’d be able to stay in the apartment. Not only because people might come looking for us there, but because someone’s bound to have found the mess Rourke made of it. I don’t know if we’d be allowed back after that.”

“But that ain’t fair! He attacked us,” Emma said hotly. “We didn’t do anything wrong!”

“We didn’t,” Kate sighed. “But we all know lotsa people won’t see it that way.”

Michael chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Do we even have the money to start renting a new place? Especially if anyone tries to make us pay for the damage to the old one?”

If they did have the money, it was only barely, thought Kate. And that was a big if. But she didn’t want her siblings to worry about such things, to let it affect their judgement. She wouldn’t let them stay here if they felt unsafe, no matter what their financial situation was.

“I’ll figure it out,” she assured her brother and sister. “If we go back, I’ll figure out whatever I have to.”

Her brother and sister exchanged looks. “Kate…” Michael began.

She reached out and took them by the hands. “I’ll keep you safe, always. And no price is too high to pay for your wellbeing. Okay?”

“Okay,” they chorused, though she could see the twin hints of concern in their matching dark eyes.

After that, the conversation turned to their parents; the newfound ability to guess why they’d left, and all the terrible speculation on why they hadn’t come back. The tantalizing possibility of finally being able to search for them. A reunion — or, at the very least, answers — was finally within reach. Could they live with themselves if they allowed the possibility to slip out of reach? 

The siblings talked long into the night, until Rafe returned for a third and final time, this time with a stack of extra blankets. “We have fireplaces and wards to keep out the wind chill,” he explained, “but it can still get cold, especially at this time of year.”

“Understood,” said Emma, flatly.

“I’ll grab the dishes and leave you be. We can talk more in the morning.”

“Okay,” Michael replied, voice quiet. 

Rafe offered the trio a smile. Once again, his emerald stare was fixed upon Kate’s face. “Good night,” he said.

“Good night,” she echoed. And then he was gone.

The siblings blew out the candles and gathered up the blankets, piling them high on the middle bed. It was just big enough to fit all of them, though it would be a tight squeeze. That was alright; after everything they’d been through these past two days, the closeness was not just comforting, it was necessary. It kept them sane and grounded as the world around them shifted on its access.

Kate lay in the center, her brother and sister curled on either side. If need be, she could wrap her arms protectively around them, and that made her smile. (Though her smile quickly fell, lips pursing in frustration as Michael and Emma whisper-fought about blanket hogging and cold feet.)

“Could we maybe not fight right before bed?” She asked.

“Sorry Kate.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just try and rest.”

“We will,” said Emma, who kissed her sister upon the cheek and then nestled deep into their blanket cocoon. 

“Uh-huh.” Michael yawned. “Love you guys.”

“Love you too,” Emma muttered.

“I love you,” Kate said. More than anything, she added silently. 

Soon the two were asleep, leaving her to stare at the stone ceiling, listening to the rhythmic sounds of their breathing. One hand snaked up to touch her locket, thumb rubbing over the rose engraving as she told herself it would all be okay. She would figure out what to do next. She would protect them, just as she’d promised to so long ago. 

As she lay there, her thoughts turned to Rafe. Could he be trusted? He’d certainly seemed caring when they spoke in dreams, but would that remain true in the stark light of day? She didn’t know. She tried to reconcile the impossibly powerful sorcerer who had beasts and brutes instantly obeying his command with the sympathetic boy who had listened to her admit the ugliest bits of herself — all her rage and exhaustion — without flinching, who offered her help when no one else would. It was not an easy task.

Eventually, Kate drifted off to sleep, her mind still turning all the while. Her dreams were not lucid this time; instead they were vague and fitful, full of burning cities and ticking clocks, and the manic sound of a violin like nothing she’d ever heard before. When morning came, she woke with a pounding, anxious heart, but had no memory of what inspired the fear.

***

They were in the fortress’s courtyard, an oblong shaped space surrounded on all sides by enormous stone walls, complete with battlements. The sight was so impressive it robbed the three siblings of words for several moments. The yard itself was less grand; the few trees scattered about were barren and skeletal in the winter. The air was far colder than it had been in Baltimore, though the surrounding walls provided them with relief from the bite of the wind. It had snowed overnight, covering the earth in a thick layer of white. 

It was just after lunch, and the trio had eagerly accepted the chance to go outside, enjoy the fresh air, and stretch their legs. Now Kate and her brother and sister were decked out in heavy coats that Rafe had somehow procured for them, as well as hats and scarves and, in the case of Michael and Emma, gloves. (Kate had elected to simply keep her hands in her pockets.) The two younger children were eagerly exploring the area; Michael was inspecting one of the trees, while Emma was testing how easily the snow packed. Kate and Rafe stood off to the side, their breath pluming and mingling in the air before them. They were keeping a close eye on Kate’s siblings, ready to step in if Emma decided it would be funny to shove her brother’s head into a snowbank.

“What are the odds,” Rafe asked, even as he eyed Emma and her handfuls of snow, “that we get through today without snowballs being hurled?”

“One in a billion,” Kate said decisively, earning a dry chuckle from the boy beside her.

“You’re probably right. I mean no disrespect to your siblings, but they’re two of the most mischievous kids I’ve ever met, and that’s saying a lot.”

Kate glanced over at him. “Do you have siblings?” She asked. 

Rafe shook his head. “Not blood siblings. But there were a bunch a’ kids I grew up with that were kinda like family.”

She didn’t say anything in response; she wasn’t sure what would be right. But the boy was already continuing; it was like a reverse of the dreams he had featured in. Now she was the listener. 

“When I was a kid, I lived in a… a magical group home, of sorts. I ended up taking a lot of responsibility for all the younger children there. And sure, the people who ran it were kind and did all they could to care for us, but there was so much to do I kinda had to step up. Be there for them emotionally. It was hard. But I still had help. I can’t imagine doing it all on my own like you’ve had to.”

“…What happened to your home?” 

The boy closed his eyes. “There was a fire. We lost both our directors, and the kids were split up in the aftermath. I found my way to my predecessor and, well, now I’m here.”

“I’m sorry,” Kate murmured. “The first orphanage my siblings and I lived in burned down. It was terrifying.”

“Yeah. Exactly.” He raked a hand through his hair. “That’s why I kept going into your dreams, you know. I originally just wanted to check and make sure I had the right siblings, like I told you the other day. But when I realized what you all had been through I just… It reminded me of my own past and how rough it was, and I wanted to help you out, to let you know I understood. And, well… I also wanted to talk to someone who understands. Not a lot of people get that part of my life and I just wanted to talk to someone who did for once. Y’know?”

She did. She knew that desire intimately, had felt it in every weary breath she drew. A yearning for recognition, for someone to see her burden and tell her they understood the weight of it. 

Kate took the boy’s hand, like she had done mere days ago, in what she’d thought was only a dream. It was as solid and warm as ever. “I know,” she said. 

Together they looked out at the snow-covered land and the great stone walls encasing it, and the way Michael and Emma’s shadows stretched long as they stood in the middle of the yard and bickered. They looked at the whitened sky stretching endlessly above. 

“I’ll have to bring you all out here at night,” Rafe said. “You can see so many stars here, it’s incredible. I grew up in the city and until I came here I never knew the sky could look so gorgeous.”

“I look forward to seeing it, then.”

When she tore her eyes away from the sky, she found the boy was looking at her once more. 

“What is it?” 

“I spent so much time searching for the Keepers, but I never anticipated you would be so impressive.”

Kate snorted and bumped his shoulder with her own. “That’s nice of you to say, but it takes more than a little flattery to sway me.”

“It’s not flattery, it’s the truth,” he retorted in a way that was so sincere it was almost painful. “You — all three of you — have gone through so much and managed to survive it, and to stand by each other. And you in particular managed to protect and care for them during that whole time. I told you, I know that ain’t easy. Lot’s a people would’ve broken, but you never did. That’s incredibly impressive.”

He paused a beat, then added with a smirk, “and the way you and Michael and Emma gave Rourke the runaround in Baltimore was impressive too. That bruise your sister gave him has turned a very unflattering purple, and he’s still fuming that it took him so long to get past that barricade you set up.”

Kate couldn’t help but chuckle at that. (Was it insane to be laughing about the events leading up to her abduction with one of the abductors? Quite possibly, but then, everything about this situation was insane.)

“Where is Rourke, anyway? He’s been pleasantly absent the past couple days.”

“I sent him to go make himself useful elsewhere, so he can’t bother you — or me — for a bit. Honestly, he’s probably grateful I made him leave; I doubt he wants to face Emma’s wrath for a second time.”

“Well, I hate to break it to him, but she can hold a grudge forever. He’s doomed.”

They shared a laugh at that, before lapsing into comfortable silence once more. A minute or two passed that way, simply existing side by side, watching as Michael drew something – probably having to do with dwarves – in the snow, and Emma laid out on her back, limbs thrown out like a starfish. Kate smiled at the sight of them in this moment of simple joy. 

Then, Rafe spoke once more:

“I hope you already know this, but I meant what I said when we spoke in your dream. You don’t have to do this – fulfilling your destiny, looking for your parents, caring for your siblings, any of it – alone. I want to help you, if you’ll let me.”

Kate turned to him. She was suddenly aware of how close they were standing, and how their hands were still clasped. His words rolled over her, the meaning sinking in. After over a decade of doing everything alone, here was someone willing to help. Here was someone ready to give her everything she’d ever wanted; a better future for her siblings, a chance to find her parents, the companionship of someone who understood her struggles. He might as well have been offering the whole world up on a silver platter. 

For a moment, she wanted to accept. For a moment, she wanted to lean closer to him.

Then she heard Michael and Emma’s bickering voices floating through the air, and her resolve stiffened. She couldn’t deprive them of a say in this. Nothing, even – especially – her own desperation, took precedence over them. 

Kate pulled away. She stuffed her hands back in her pockets, internally scolding herself for her carelessness. This was not a dream where consequences were nonexistent. She couldn’t allow herself to forget that. She couldn’t allow herself to be swept away by the feelings of camaraderie and ease Rafe inspired. 

“You’re very kind to offer,” she said, not meeting the boy’s eye. “I’m grateful, truly. But my siblings and I still have to discuss what we’re going to do next.”

Rafe looked disappointed, but he didn’t push the subject anymore. They remained in the courtyard for a few minutes longer, until Emma lobbed a snowball and hit Michael square in the back of his head. Exchanging mildly amused glances, Kate and Rafe took that as their cue to herd the squabbling children inside.

The day wore on. And after they peeled off their winter gear and drank warm cups of tea Rafe provided them with, after Michael finally got over his indignation about taking a snowball to the head, after dinner and debating in fits and spurts, the siblings found themselves laying their cards on the table at last. They gathered, once again, on one bed, forming a little circle with their bodies. 

“I know we’ve been going back and forth, but I really think we should consider taking Rafe’s deal,” Michael said. “I know he kidnapped us, and I know this is all crazy, but… If he truly has the power to help us find our parents, we can’t turn that down. I can’t turn that down. I don’t know if I could forgive myself if I gave up the chance to find them.”

“We understand,” Kate assured him. 

“I’ve been thinkin’ about that too,” Emma said. “And about other stuff. I still don’t trust ‘im fully. I’m still mad about the whole kidnapping thing, and I’m suspicious of anyone who associates with a fucker like Rourke, even if ‘e didn’t pick ‘im. But I also think he’s right that there are other people hunting for us, and that those people wanna hurt us. I mean, there are lotsa shitty people in the normal world – we’ve met plenty – and so it’s no surprise there are also some real pricks in the magic world. And if staying here can keep us safe from people who wanna kill us, I think we should stay.”

She hesitated, then added, “I don’t know what sorta magic or creatures we’d be dealing with if we left. I don’t know if I could fight it.”

Her siblings stared in surprise. It was incredibly rare for Emma to admit she didn’t think she could win a fight. She flushed pink as she sensed their eyes on her, as her sister took her hand and squeezed it tightly. “Can we move on,” she muttered. “Kate, what do you think we should do?”

Michael nodded. “Yeah, what do you think Kate?”

They looked at her then, as they so often did in times of strife. She swallowed. It was time to be the one with the plans and answers, the steady pillar they could lean against and the comforting presence to soothe their fears. It was time to be a parent.

“I won’t do anything you two aren’t comfortable with,” she said. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; your safety and happiness are my priorities. That being said… I’ve also been leaning towards staying and working with him. I’ve been thinking about the same things you have, and how, since he needs us to find those books, he’s incentivized to provide things we need. Not just housing us and feeding us and keeping us safe, but also helping us deal with things like school records and whatnot. Whatever makes it easier for us to work with him.”

“He did say he’d take care of anything we needed,” Michael mused. “And aside from the kidnapping itself, he’s been nothing but nice and sincere. But how can we be sure he’ll stick to his word?”

“I don’t know if we can,” Kate admitted.

“Well,” Emma said, “maybe we make a contingency plan. If he fails to uphold his end of the bargain, we ain’t gonna stay and help him anymore.”

Michael raised an eyebrow skeptically. “He’s a sorcerer who already stole us away once. What’s to stop him from finding us and doing it again?”

His sister tilted her chin up in defiance. “We get smarter. We learn all we can about magic while we’re stayin’ here, and, if it comes down to it, we use it. We nearly gave Rourke the slip once. We get more tools and do it again if we gotta.”

Kate nodded. “I agree with you, Emma.”

“Then I guess we’re all on the same page,” said Michael.

Emma cracked a knuckle and said, “when are we gonna tell Rafe?”

“I’ll tell him tomorrow morning,” Kate decided. “Unless one of you changes your mind before then; if that happens, just let me know and we’ll call this whole thing off.” 

Neither of them were going to change their minds. She could tell when her siblings were set on something, and they were set on this path. But it was important to her that they knew they had options, and that she would support them no matter what. 

She might have wanted to stay, to build a better life for her family and search for her missing parents, even to hold on to the burgeoning connection and understanding she had with Rafe, but all of that paled in comparison to Michael and Emma.

When they fell asleep that night, curled up together like kittens, Kate held them close. Her brother and sister were often exhausting, and they could be troublesome, but they were also her reason for living. They were necessary as the lungs encased in her chest. 

***

“We’ve made a decision.”

“Go on,” said Rafe, a hint of urgency in his tone. He sat across from Kate in a small room at a simple wooden table, which was apparently used for studying maps, if that sort of thing was needed. Steaming cups of oolong tea sat before them, untouched so far. The last vestiges of sunrise seeped through the tall, narrow window opposite the door, giving the space a golden sheen. 

“We want to stay,” Kate said, and she watched as Rafe’s face lit up like the sun outside. “And we’ll help you find the Books of Beginning, but you’ll have to help us out in turn.”

“Of course,” he replied immediately. “Whatever you need.”

“Food, shelter, all the basics, but also help with documentation. My siblings’ school transcripts, any legal paperwork if we got reported missing, everything that keeps our lives from collapsing. Help us navigate that process.”

“I will.”

“And we want your assistance searching for our parents, and, when they and the books have been found, for you to help us set up our lives. I’m not sure what those lives will look like yet… college, maybe, but it’s too early to say…”

“Whatever you want,” he repeated. “I can make it happen. Is there anything else you know you’d like in return?”

“One more thing,” she said. “You said you’d help me, that I didn’t have to do this alone… Make good on that offer. Help me protect Michael and Emma. Whatever happens with the books, whoever wants to do us harm, you and I will ensure they fail.”

“Believe me, I was already planning on doing that,” Rafe said. “But you have my word. I’ll keep your siblings – and you – alive.”

Some of the tension slipped from Kate’s shoulders. She took a long drink of her tea. “Thank you.”

“Of course. And if there’s anything you think of later, just say the word. I want you to be happy, as well as safe.”

He smiled, and, to Kate’s eyes, he appeared genuine. She hoped he was. She hoped that he kept his word, that he bettered Michael and Emma’s futures and defended them from harm and made good on all the tantalizing offers of assistance he’d made. 

If he didn’t, well… She and her siblings had survived everything thus far, and they would survive him too. If he betrayed them, they would flee, and if he tried to stop them from doing so, they would fight. And for all his power, for all she felt seen and appreciated by him, Kate knew at that moment she wouldn’t hesitate to plunge a blade into his chest if that was what it took to protect her siblings. 

I hope you keep your promises, Rafe, she thought, because I always keep mine. 

Aloud, she said, “I suppose we have a deal then,” and she held out a hand. 

“I suppose we do.” Rafe took her hand, clasping her calloused fingers as if they were something precious. “I’ll do everything I can to make it worth your while.”

Their eyes met. She stared into the all-encompassing emerald, and got the strangest sense she was looking right at her fate. (She hoped desperately it was a bright one. A dream rather than a nightmare. She hoped the boy before her would prove to be some sort of guardian angel, as opposed to a devil she’d just sold her soul to.)

“Thank you, Kate,” Rafe said, so soft and gentle she could have imagined it. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”

She offered him a friendly smile and told him she’d see him later. Then she left the room, and headed back towards Michael and Emma. Just as she’d done every day for months, walking from work back to their apartment, propelled forward through exhaustion or fear by sheer love for her siblings. 

They deserved everything good. They were worth any price. The whole world might have changed, but those facts never did. 

Kate’s smile grew sharper as she readied herself for whatever came next.