I kept an eye on Vernon in the rearview, the same question running through my mind, over and over. The entire time we'd spent packing up his office he'd been a complete chatterbox, nervously reviewing his packing list out loud. Now he was silent in the back seat, pale hands folded on pleated pants, engulfed in a sweater that seemed to swallow him from the neck down. He'd shaved his head in a hurry. The dark shadow that remained, shaped along the angles of his aggressively receding hairline, gave him an almost villainous cast.
"Cold?" I asked, twisting around to face him.
His fingers traced the sweater's stitching. "Always." He cocked his head, trying to get a better look. "My daughter... she's really here?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"Odd." His tone grew distant, edgy. "Because I could have sworn this was the O'Hare Garage. Which doesn't service anything residential."
Something swirled, just to the side of my vision.
"Mr. Client?" Jackson snapped, eyes darting around the car's roof.
"It's fine. Both of you." I tried to calm him, all the while ready to pull the
"Hence, the security of a parking garage?" Vernon asked doubtfully.
"Like I said. In a manner of speaking."
There was an audible snap as endless parking spaces and dull yellow lights vanished, bathing the car in darkness. Pale white lights of distant stars flickered overhead, blotted out by infrequent street lamps as the car continued down a crunching gravel road.
"Extraordinary," Vernon breathed.
Beside me, Jackson was panning the road, just as taken aback. "Believe it or not, this is bigger than it used to be, like, three days ago. There wasn't a driveway the last time."
I shifted, trying to get a full view of the perimeter. "Pretty sure there wasn't an outside at all. Just the interior."
The copse of trees lining either side of the gravel road gave the typically cozy sanctum an ominous feeling, part private estate, part haunted mansion. The iron gates creaked open on their own, and the dimly lit roundabout driveway did little to ease that tension.
Lights were on inside, but the feel of the place was off enough that I considered scouting out the perimeter.
I felt the explosion in my chest a second before I heard it. Instinctively, I reached back and pushed Vernon down, getting him out of the line of fire as the darkness fled in a wash of crimson.
Instead of gunning it, Jackson eased off the accelerator and came to a stop.
"Relax. It's the welcome party."
Several explosions detonated, one after another, and the sky was filled with multi-colored fireworks.
The double doors at the edge of the long stairwell were thrown open, and a stream of armed mercenaries in dark armor with orange accents poured out, marching down either side, assembling in front of the mansion in two formations.
Vernon watched the display, pressed close to the car window, struggling to comprehend what he was seeing.
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"Should probably go grab a spot." Jackson parked and tossed me the keys, exiting the car and jogging over to the assembled group on the left-hand side.
Vernon grabbed a doorhandle, eyes wide in wonder and anticipation.
"Hold up," I said, scanning the group for Kinsley, who was yet to be seen.
"Is there a problem?"
"Hoping there won't be." I searched the group until I spotted something distant above, slowly descending on the manor square. "But leaving it to hope never works out well, in my experience. You're here. You're free from the Order. Circumstance demanded I come through with my side of the deal early."
"Yes." Vernon sighed. "No promises, but things are still progressing well. Assuming I have free access to my lair, we should know the viability of resurrection within a week, along with the cost."
"And you'll still be here to follow through on all that."
"Of course," Vernon snapped, growing irritable.
"That's great. Because I was a little worried you might get other ideas, after seeing how independent and self-reliant she is. Once you felt out of place and unnecessary."
"Not at all." Vernon rolled his eyes. "And even if I did, my daughter's clearly flourished without me."
A wave of anger swept through me, and barely, I tamped it down. "No. She hasn't. She tore herself open to make this happen. Grew up in months. Put herself at risk, countless times. Her anxiety is at an all-time high, and she's hovered on the verge of a mental break more than once. I say all this to emphasize that everything you see? Every accomplishment? All of it was paid in blood to save you."
"Whatever preconceptions you have—she's clearly shared some of what happened—I have no intention of dying." Vernon chuckled, something dark in his tone.
That was the opposite of what I expected, yet it read truthful. "Why?"
He chewed his nails, troubled reflection in the window whited out by another round of fireworks. "Since the last time we spoke, I... pulled the thread."
I thought back. "Referring to the afterlife?"
Vernon nodded. "Much of my tertiary research has trended in that direction as of late. I used a mono-mind... well. The details will bore you, but suffice it to say, I engineered a method to generate a snapshot of what lays beyond."
"And?"
Vernon covered his mouth and gagged. Fear burned in his eyes, bright and strong. "What I saw was enough to make the idea of taking life a day at a time far less taxing." After a moment, he seemed to relax. "Is she angry with me? For being gone when she needed me most?"
"No." I glanced up through the dashboard window at the still-descending shape, now lit well enough to make out its balloon-like shape. "Though she may change her mind if you miss her grand entrance. Come on."
"What—" Vernon's voice cut off as I shut the door behind me, and he exited passenger side.
Since we'd met in the park the day the meteor struck, I'd noticed Kinsley had a tendency to adopt my habits, good and bad. Practical theatricality was among those traits.
Unfortunately, Kinsley completely lacked the practical part.
An honest-to-god hot-air balloon descended from the sky, as a symphonic fanfare located somewhere within the mansion belted out a march that sounded like royal procession music. As the balloon descended closer to the ground, Vernon's mouth dropped.
Impressive as it all was, I was a little less inspired, given we'd watched the movie she was blatantly ripping off at my place a little more than a month ago.
I cupped my hands over my mouth and shouted upwards. "Hey! Not trying to fuck up the vibe, but can we hurry this up? Gotta trade your father for a laptop."
Kinsley leaned down, her hair arranged in an ornate bun several times more complex than her usual, still packing the usual fire. "Why do people always say that right before they fuck up the..." Her eyes landed on Vernon. She mouthed something inaudible, and lost her balance, bumping against something in the balloon.
A fixture on the side of the balloon lit momentarily, and the balloon suddenly picked up a horizontal crosswind, swinging towards tall tips of forest that surrounded the mansion. Kinsley screeched as around eight of her assembled mercenaries rushed forward, two clinging to each of the four ropes that dangled from the balloon.
Vernon—completely intimidated just moments before—laughed as the tension broke. He jogged towards the still rebelling balloon and seized the closest anchor, adding his efforts to the mercenaries.
Kinsley, having had her fill of waiting, gathered the hem of her dress and leapt down what must have been a four-foot drop, turning her ankle slightly on impact, running towards Vernon just the same. Theatricality utterly discarded, she leapt into his arms, tears running down her cheeks, breaking down.
Vernon struggled to hold it together himself, trembling with barely restrained joy. "I missed you, little princess."
"Welcome home Daddy."
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