Chapter Text
Lia's POV
Cassie is busy questioning Ree about Lorelai and her old life in this lovely town of Gaither, when I spot a group of roughly a dozen people walking in lines of four through the window. They are all of various ages and ethnicities, but there’s one thing they all share.
Completely. White. Robes.
I instantly straighten in the worn diner booth as Shane, Ree’s grandson, slams out of the diner and charges out into the street. He attempts to approach a girl standing behind the others, but a man with thick ink-black hair shot through with gray steps in front of him.
‘Those people’. The man playing chess over there said Mason Kyle’s family was killed by ‘those people’.
“Going to go out on a limb,” I say, my eyes locking on the oncoming confrontation between the man in the robes and Shane, “and guess that those people are emissaries from the friendly neighborhood cult.”
After Michael paid for our meals, we stride out the door and watch the circus unfold outside.
“Mel.” Shane tries to sidestep the man with the gray streaks in his hair. “Melody.”
“It’s alright, Echo,” the man — clearly the cult leader — tells the girl Shane addressed as Melody. “Speak your truth.”
A young college-age girl steps forward, her eyes fixed on the ground. Her voice is light and wispy, but I can hear the slight tremble in it as she glances at the leader, “I’m not Melody anymore.”
I’m not Sadie anymore.
“I don’t want to be Melody.”
I don’t want to be Sadie.
“My second name — my true name — is Echo.”
My name is Lia. It has been and always will be Lia.
The girl lifts her eyes to her brother’s. “I’m happy now. Can’t you be happy for me?”
“Happy for you?” Shane repeats, his voice sounding incredulous and catching in his throat. “Mel, you can’t even talk to me without glancing at him to make sure what you’re saying is okay. You gave up college — college, Melody — to join the soul-sucking cult that stole our mother away from us when we were kids.”
‘We’ll have a better life here, Sadie,’ my mother’s voice is soft and soothing as she places a hand on my head. ‘He promised us a better life. A life with purpose.’
Shane’s fingers curl into fists. “So, no, I can’t be happy for you.”
“Your mother was lost.” The leader gently addresses those words to Shane, but they pierce through my armor like a knife.
‘Your mother brought you both here because you are both lost, Sadie,’ the man whispers as he brushes his fingers against my cheek. ‘Do take care to remember that.’
“We attempted to provide solace, offered her a simpler way of life. I was as grieved as you were when she chose a different path,” the man goes on to say, his words sounding kind and gentle to anyone else who is foolish enough to get wrapped up in them.
But Shane wasn’t going to take this lying down. “You’re the reason she left town!” Shane screamed, but his words seemingly fall on deaf ears.
The cult leader barely bristled. “Serenity Ranch is not for everyone,” he says, raising his hands up in a prayer motion. “We cannot help everyone, but those we can help, we do.” He glances at Melody extremely subtly, but I catch his look instantly.
It was the same look he used to give me.
“I’ve found my Serenity,” Melody recites, her voice expressionless, her eyes glassy. “In Serenity, I’ve found balance. In Serenity, I’ve found peace.”
‘In this place, everything is peaceful. Everything has order. Everyone has their reason for being.’
The memories taste like ash in my mouth as Shane explodes once more. “Are you on something?” he demands before whipping back around to the man he’d confronted. “What did you give her? What have you been giving her?”
The leader stares at and into Shane for a couple of moments before bowing his head. “We must be going.”
“We’re about three seconds away from Draco Malfoy over there throwing a punch,” Michael says, his voice low in warning. “Three…two…”
Shane punches the man. As the cult leader wipes blood off his lip with the back of his hand, he looks at Shane and smiles.
‘You should always smile, Sadie. Smiles cure all evils.’
It doesn’t take long for Agent Sterling to dig up information on Serenity Ranch. The man in charge — the cult leader — is named Holland Darby. Naturally, he had been investigated by local authorities dozens of times before over a period of several decades, but no proof of wrongdoing had ever been established.
They never find anything. The leaders are never that stupid.
Apparently, Holland Darby collected drifters and strays, but he managed to woo many young, impressionable locals to join his friendly neighborhood cult too.
Never any minors. No, collecting minors would cause trouble with the law.
You don’t want trouble with the law, but you certainly don’t mind tormenting Shane.
“He brought Melody to town as a test,” I state flatly, keeping all traces of emotion out of my voice and my face. “Darby wanted Shane to see his sister. He wanted Melody to make it clear that they are her family now.”
‘We’re your family now, Sadie. I’m sure you’ll see that in due time.’
“Clearly,” I say, standing up, “the Gaither Hotel is only passingly familiar with proper air-conditioning.” I pull my hair back and off my neck, effortlessly shedding my persona — and the memories — before flashing the team a gleaming smile. “I’m going to change into something cooler.”
I shoot each of them a look before walking into the bedroom. I feel Michael’s eyes on me as he leans against the wall.
He knows what I’m feeling. No matter how hard I try to hide my emotions from him, he always knows what I’m feeling.
And I hate it.
I just step over the bedroom’s threshold when I hear the familiar sound of Michael’s footsteps tapping against the old carpet floor. He closes the wooden door with his foot and advances towards me until I can feel his breath on my neck.
“Someone in this room,” he drawls, “is more scared than they are letting on.”
“And someone else in this room,” I reply, “is an absolute bastard.”
Michael grazes his fingers against my shoulder, but I pull away like his hands are made of fire. “You don’t get that. You’ll never deserve that,” I snap and move towards the closet where our suitcases lay.
“Because of what happened in New York?” Michael replies, his expression carefree but I can hear the darkness in his tone.
‘Longer and better than I loved you.’
“Maybe it would be better if you went back to New York,” I spit out as I attempt to pull out the large suitcase I brought from the small closet, “given that your darling Cece whom you love so much is back there.”
“Don’t talk about her like that,” he snaps at me, and I whirl back on him.
“Oh? Why shouldn’t I?” I don’t bother hiding the bitterness laced in my tone. “Given that you loved her longer than better than you ever loved me.”
I know the words are a mistake the moment they leave my lips.
I’ve shown my hand too much.
Michael’s expression shifts instantly, seemingly remembering the callous words he threw at me back in New York, and his hands curl into fists.
He knows how deep the words cut me.
I turn away from him, instead fixing my focus on opening the suitcase in front of me.
Shedding emotions is as simple as changing appearance.
I pull out several articles of clothing before feeling Michael’s breath against my neck. He wraps his arms around my waist and tugs me backwards, pulling my body taut against his.
I shouldn’t forgive him.
“Lia,” he whispers, his voice rough in his throat, before pressing a gentle kiss against my neck. It’s softer than any kiss he’s ever given me before — the sole form of apology he’s capable of giving me in this moment.
I can’t forgive him.
“Lia,” he whispers again before pressing a series of soft kisses against my neck and up my jawline.
I—
“I’m sorry.” The words are barely a whisper but they echo through the room like thunder.
I turn to look at Michael Townsend — the boy who normally guards his emotions like his life is on the line — who has a look of…gentleness on his face.
It’s nothing.
It can’t be any genuine emotion.
Because the Michael Townsend I know is incapable of feeling guilt.
But in that fleeting moment, I find that I don’t care as I press my lips to his.
Once I’m ready, I prepare to head out of the bedroom. I can hear Dean’s voice through the wooden door, “We need to know what the police didn’t put in the official file. Gossip. Theories.”
“Luckily for you,” I comment, strolling back into the room with a smirk firmly plastered on my face, “gossip is one of my specialties.”
I watch the others take in my outfit — a long black skirt paired with a multilayered top that hangs off my shoulders. Thick dark liner rims my eyes and two-inch-wide copper bangles jingle on my wrists. “On a scale from one to ten,” I say, my smirk changing into an innocent grin, “how psychic do I look?”
“Six-point-four,” Sloane replies without any hesitation.
“Psychic?” Cassie questions, her expression immediately shifting to one of caution.
“Lia and I were talking about our little chat with Ree at the Not-A-Diner,” Michael says, coming up behind me.
We were certainly doing more than just talking, weren’t we?
“And we both seemed to recall Ree saying something about a widow with a big mouth and a penchant for psychics,” Michael continues, his eyes shifting towards my face, towards my lips which were pressed against his a short while before.
I arch an eyebrow at Cassie, and her expression shifts to one of abject alarm.
“No way,” she says forcibly. “I spent most of my childhood helping my mom con people into thinking she was psychic. I’m not going to help you do the same.”
Sloane glances between Cassie and me before fixing her firm gaze on Cassie. “There is a very high probability,” she whispers, “that Lia’s about to tell you that you’re lying.”