The Hemlock Chronicles: Updates and Pic Spam

I was going to write this up into another chapter, but frankly, after writing three intensely emotional chapters in one day, I'm beat. Not to mention, in the game I forgot about Lilah's impending graduation and moved Moriah and the kids out the night before her graduation ceremony so the only person who came was Timo, and I just didn't feel like making Moriah out to be THAT bad of a mother that she would skip her own daughter's graduation ceremony, especially after everything else she's missed during her mourning period. ::sigh:: Poor Moriah. Poor Lilah. Poor Xander. Poor Mattei. I am just a big meanie to my characters... ::evil grin::

Anyway, here are some shots from Lilah's graduation.

Lilah attending her graduation.
She was voted "Most Likely to Offend."
Poor girl just can't catch a break.

Lilah thanking Timo for attending her ceremony.

Can't you tell he's bored and doesn't like you, Lilah?
Geez, just leave the poor kid alone so he can go hit on that cute blond girl.
"Hey baby, that guy's a joke. You wanna see what a real wizard can do?"

Timo came, but more than anything, it was out of a sense of familial obligation. He doesn't like Lilah at all, and doesn't trust her as far as he could throw her. He really only stuck around the house because he likes the old place, and because there'd be more room for his imaginary friend with everyone else gone.

Yeah... he's special...

Did I mention he's also a witch? Well... wizard. Warlock. Whatever. He has the Magic, and he's more talented already than his mom ever was.

Timo casting a conversion ritual on a toadstool.

And voila!
Okay, well, maybe a fish is the most impressive thing ever, but it's a start.

"Bubble, bubble, toil and... tribbles?
Hey! Who swapped out my alchemy book for Star Trek fanfic?" 

Drinking a home-brewed potion.
This may be the best pic I have of Timo.... sadly.

That's all the extra pics I have for now. Don't worry, though. This is not the last you'll see of the others. I'm already working on something special for Mattei, since he's such a good-looking and sweet guy who just didn't get much of a role in The Hemlock Chronicles. Be watching for him in The Buenavista Diairies!

As for who I pick for the legacy heir... I guess you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?

Chapter XVI: Bridges Burnt

(Disclaimer: There is some adult language in this post. Read at your own discretion.)

Everything has changed.

Mom is a different person now, if you can even call her a person. I'd call her a zombie. She doesn't even get out of bed in the morning, not even to take care of the triplets.

The other day I had to skip school because Timo and Mattei had finals and couldn't stay home with them. The school called. I heard Mom's cell phone ring, but she never even picked up. She didn't come out of her room all day.

I hate her. It's bad enough that Dad died. But she's our mother! She has six kids! She can't DO this! It's not fair to Timo and Mattei that they have to get up with the babies in the middle of the night, and it's not fair to me that I'm missing my senior year to stay at home and play mother to my little siblings.

I've tried the gentle route. I've tried talking to her, yelling at her, even dragging the blankets off her. But she just rolls over, doesn't say a word. She's so selfish! It's not like the rest of us didn't lose Dad, too. It's not like we don't miss him! But we still go on because we have to. Because that's what you do! Because the triplets need us!

What the hell does she think she's doing? She's so weak! If she's going to be so useless, I just wish she'd up and die, too.

* * *

Mom finally came out of her room just now, an hour after I'd put the triplets to bed. The boys are doing their homwork in their room, and I'm watching a show on TV while I eat ramen noodles for dinner. She doesn't even look at me, just goes straight to the fridge, gets out a container of yogurt and a spoon, and starts eating it at the sink. She doesn't say a word. I watch her expectantly, but when she finishes, she just goes right back into her room.

I can't help myself. “Bitch...” I mutter under my breath. She stops, halfway through the door and turns to look at me.

“Excuse me?”

I look her straight in the eye and raise an eyebrow. “Well, obviously you heard it the first time. Do you really want me to repeat myself?”

“Lilah Hemlock--” she starts, but I cut her off.

“Don't you even dare speak to me like I'm just a child! While you've been holed up in your own personal two-month pity party, the boys and I have kept this household running. We have had to cook, clean, and take care of ourselves, not to mention the triplets! Mattei even got a job at the funeral home so that we can pay the bills and keep the house. I bought that yogurt you just ate at the grocery store during my lunch period yesterday!” I could feel my voice rising, but I couldn't help myself: the last two months of built up grief and rage were blowing out of me like air from a popped balloon. “So don't you DARE act like any kind of parent right now, because you are NOT my mother! She died when Dad did!”

I feel the slap before I even see it coming. It stings and I feel a spreading heat on my cheek. I blink. Mom is staring at me, wide-eyed, hand still hovering stupidly in the air. I stare back at her for a few seconds, then realize my mouth is hanging open. I shut it abruptly, then turn and walk into my room, slamming the door behind me. She doesn't follow me.

* * *

Mom tried to come and talk to me after my outburst. But I locked my door. She tried the next day too, but I just ignored her. Then today, several weeks later, she comes out of her room while the boys are helping me feed the twins and makes an announcement.

“We're moving,” she says.

Shocked silence fills the room. I look at the boys for a clue to this sudden decision that maybe Mom's been keeping from me, but they look as surprised as I feel. Isabella chimes up, “Mama!” and reaches for Mom, and she absently strokes her hair, then faces the rest of us again.

“Your grandparents' house never sold, and it's bigger than this old place. It has more rooms, and a nice big yard for the triplets to play in, too. Timo and Mattei, you boys could have your own rooms. What do you guys think?” She smiles like she just invented Christmas or something.

I'd like to tell her exactly what I think, but I don't want the triplets picking up that kind of language. Ever since their birthday, they're fond of gaining attention through unsavory methods. I don't need another meeting with their elementary school principal right now.

“No,” I say, and Mom looks at me like I just refused money from the tooth fairy.

“No?” she echoes, confused.

“I'm not moving,” I insist. “This is our home. We grew up here. I'm not leaving.”

“But, Lilah, I really think we all need a fresh start.”

“We? I don't think this has anything to do with the rest of us. This is all about you, Mom, just like things usually are.”

“Lilah, please--”

“You can't deal with the memory of losing Dad, and you think moving somewhere else will just fix it. But that's not gonna work Mom. No matter where you live, Dad will still be gone.”

“Lilah!” Mom says sharply, and the triplets are staring at me wide-eyed now. Mattei and Timo are silent, but I see something like agreement in the set of Timo's jaw as I continue.

“Besides,” I add. “I'd hardly call the house dad grew up in a 'fresh start'. Just because you threw everything out and had the place gutted after Grampa died doesn't mean there aren't still memories haunting that place.”

“Grampa's house is haunted?” Inigo asks, voice filled with awe and not a little interest.

Mom has gone silent now, and her mouth is set in that firm line that says she's not changing her mind. She glares at me for a moment, then folds her arms.

“Pack up. Moving day is Saturday,” she says, and turns to go back to her room.

“I'm not moving!” I call after her. The only answer is the soft click of her bedroom door shutting behind her. I can feel my siblings eyes on me as I take the bowl of macaroni and cheese back to the counter. I put it down and sigh, gazing out the window at the coastline below. I meant it. I love this house. As many bad memories I have here, I have good ones too, and I won't trade those for the uncertainty of a new place, especially where Grampa might have even more metaphysical energy to waste on interfering in my life.

“I'm staying too,” Timo says, and I turn, surprised. He looks at me from under his shaggy mop of strawberry blonde hair and shrugs. “I like it here.” We both look at Mattei, but he's just pushing food around on his plate, avoiding our eyes. It's obvious he's already chosen. He's a born and bred mama's boy, and he'll follow Mom wherever she goes, even if it means leaving his twin and older sister behind. “You don't HAVE to do everything she says, Mattei,” I try, but he says nothing, and I sigh again. It's settled then.

I cross the living room and knock on Mom's door. She opens it and gives me an annoyed look. “You can go if you want, Mom, but Timo and I are staying,” I tell her.

She shakes her head. “Don't be ridiculous. I'm not going to move away and leave my children behind. We're all moving together.” Rolling my eyes, I sweep past her and close the door behind me. I hear Mattei reminding the triplets to eat their vegetables as I turn to face Mom, and I take a deep breath, preparing for battle. I am determined to do this in an adult fashion.

“First of all, Mom, we're not children. I'm eighteen, and Timo is almost seventeen.”

“No you're not! Your birthday isn't until...” Mom starts, then pauses, shocked.

“Last month,” I finish for her. “You slept through it. I baked a cake and everything.”

When she looks at me again, Mom has tears in her eyes. “Lilah... I missed your birthday?”

I simply nod. She steps close to me, and she looks like she wants a hug, but I just can't bring myself to humor her after everything she's put me through. “Anyway, I'm staying. Timo wants to stay too, and since I'm legally an adult, I can take care of him for one more year until he graduates.”

Mom looks away and seems to be intensely interested in the pattern of the wallpaper, but when she turns back to me, she seems to have softened. “Lilah, are you sure this is what you want?” I nod.

“Well... how would we do this? I mean, what was your plan?”

“You sign over the deed to the house to me,” I say matter-of-factly. I'm actually surprising myself with how well I've thought this through. I guess somewhere along the way I must have grown up.

“And Timo...?” she adds.

“He'll get an after-school job to help with groceries and bills, and when he's eighteen we can talk about it and see what he wants to do.”

Mom studies the wallpaper a bit more, then drops her head, defeated. She sighs. “Well, I guess you guys are practically adults now... You've certainly had to act like adults for awhile. If this is what you really want--” She peeks at me, and I fold my arms. “-- then I guess it's only fair for me to say yes.”

I breathe a mental sigh of relief. She steps toward me to embrace me. “Lilah, I'm so sorry about everything I've put you guys through...” she starts, but I step away.

“I don't want your apologies, Mom,” I answer, putting my hand on the doorknob. “I just want you to leave.” I walk out, closing her door-- and the proverbial door of our tenuous mother-daughter relationship-- behind me.

Timo looks up, and I give him a short nod, then move to the sink to start on dishes. Mattei gets up, brings his and the triplets' dishes to the sink, and heads to his room to start packing.

* * *

It's Sunday night. The moving van has already come and gone. The triplets' room and my room have been stripped bare of furniture, all my stuff having been moved into the master bedroom while we had the manpower readily available. We've already said goodbye to the triplets and Mattei, who are waiting by the door. Now we're down to Mom. She gives Timo and I each a hug, which I do not return, and assures us that there's “always room for us if we change our minds.” I don't bother to reply. She takes one last, sad look at us, then heads out to the car, the triplets walking out after her. Mattei attempts a half-smile, sheks Timo's hand, and mutters a meek goodbye, and then he's gone too.

Good riddance. I feel a short pang of regret at losing Mattei and the triplets, but mostly, I'm just relieved. I've been longing for my freedom from that woman for years, and now I finally have it. I close the door behind her, turn to face Timo, and grin. “Just you and me now, bro! How many teenagers own their own house, huh?”

He gives me a disgusted look, then turns and walks away. “I'll be in my room,” he says. I shrug. Well, at least I'm going to enjoy it! 

"That's the spirit!" Grampa says enthusiastically, and for once, I'm in too good a mood to tell him to buzz off.

Chapter XV: Unexpected Goodbyes

It's weird... how life can be going along great, for the first time in years, and then suddenly just dump on you like a trash truck straight out of Hell.

Dad is dead.

It's not fair! He just retired! He hadn't even gotten a chance yet to go golfing in the goofy plaid shorts I bought him for his retirement, and he just up and died! The doctor said it was an embolism. One minute he was standing there in the kitchen. The next, he was dead on the floor. Just dead! We didn't even get to say goodbye! I was trying so hard to be good, to earn his trust again, and now he's dead... he probably died thinking of me as the same horrible daughter I've always been. And whereas I can't get rid of Grampa, dad is just gone. I'll never get to apologize to him, to tell him I love him. I can't stand it... I... I just wish...

Grampa's here. I've gotten so I can sense him, even before he speaks. “Lilah?” he says tentatively, close to my ear. I roll over. “Hunny, are you okay?”

“What the hell do you think, Grampa?”

“Oh, my dear...” he says, and his voice draws closer.

“Go away!” I growl, throwing a pillow in the direction of his voice. It thumps softly again the wall, and I hear the conversation in the living room pause for a moment before resuming. Everyone out there is probably just thinking I'm having another crazy-episode again. I'm used to it.

“Hunny, I just want to be here for you,” Grampa says, and I laugh coldly.

“Right, because you're so selfless and caring like that.” He doesn't say anything, and I pull the covers over my head. Dad is dead. Daddy...

I want to die too. Just drop dead, like my dad did, and not have to deal with any of this anymore: Grampa and his insane scheme to get me pregnant with his new body. Mom and her awkward attempts at parenting. The kids at school who torment me... I just want it all to end. Before I know it, I'm sobbing. “Lilah,” Grampa tries again, but I don't answer, and I feel him fade. Darkness mercifully steals over me, and when I open my eyes again, it's dark out.

Something woke me up, a noise... like a grunt. I roll over, groggy. My eyes feel swollen and I'm stiff. But all that fades into the background when I see her standing there, shadows and light from the lighthouse outside playing over her face, which is paler than I remember.

“Sandi?”

“Hey, sweetie,” she says, and her voice seems to have changed too. It's lower, richer... I sit up, confused, and slide out of bed. “Sandi? I... what are you doing here?”

She shrugs. “I was in town on break, and I heard about your dad. Thought I'd come see you and make sure you were okay.”

“Oh... okay...” I say. I'm feeling a little fuzzy-minded, like I've had too much to drink. I can still hear people out there in the living room. The funeral party hasn't ended yet, then. I look at my cell phone, and it's not as late as it feels.

“So... um...” I stammer, feeling a little embarrassed. I've had dreams where I wake up and she's there, but I've never actually expected it to happen, and now I have no idea what to say. “Uh... what... what are you doing in my room?”

“Well, checking out your painting for one,” she replies, and I blush. “Is that supposed to be me?” she asks, and I nod, dropping my gaze. I can't believe she actually recognized the figure in the painting... this one is still in the early stages, but I have whole stacks of paintings in my closet of her. I've never showed them to anyone of course. I don't want people to think I'm obsessed, but the truth is... maybe I am. Even after she left for school, I couldn't stop thinking about her. Ever.

“Sandi... um... you seem different,” I say, trying to change the subject. “What happened?”

All of a sudden, it's like someone flipped a switch. Her normally beautiful face tranforms into a vicious scowl, and she glares at me in a hostile, almost murderous way.

“Different? What? You don't like it?” she says, and I flinch at her tone.

“Um... no, I was just noticing. I mean--”

“What's wrong, Lilah? Can't deal with a little change? Am I too much woman for you now? Or too much of something else?”

Suddenly she bares her teeth and hisses at me, and I swear, in the darkness, I see fangs glinting on her lips.

“S-Sandi?” I say, backing away, but my knees hit the bed, and I fall gracelessly on my butt. She seems to relax immediately, and holds her arms open to me. I stand back up, hesitant to go to her, and she sighs.

“Oh, Lilah, I'm sorry,” she says gently. “I'm just a little on edge,” she explains. “I haven't had much to eat lately.”

Not knowing what else to say, and-- more importantly-- what won't set her off, I just shrug.

“Come here, beautiful,” she says, her voice barely a whisper. I raise my eyes to meet hers, and notice her eyes are different now too... maybe she's wearing tinted contacts? They look weird in the dim light... unnatural.

“I've missed you,” she says, staring at me intently, with a need in her eyes that is unmistakeable. I feel my heart beat faster, and as if reading my mind, she holds her arms out to me again. I don't hesitate this time, but rush into them, and she enfolds me, her grasp almost squeezing the air out of me. I feel the tears start to come again.

“Sandi!” I manage, and them the sobs make any other words impossible. She merely holds me tightly, stroking my hair and murmuring comfortingly.

We stay like that for a long time, neither of us speaking, until finally I hear people moving around in the living room. People are starting to leave. Sandi releases me, and like a huge stone, I feel the weight of everything settle back onto my heart. “I should go,” Sandi whispers, and I shake my head, desperate for her to stay. She smiles sadly at me, then raises a hand to stroke my cheek. “You're getting more beautiful everyday, Lilah,” she whispers, then turns and leaves. Everything in me wants to run after her, grab her, and hold on until my last breath. I don't want to let her go. Ever. But I merely step back, and fall onto the bed, overwhelmed. Grandpa doesn't come back, and as the house grows quiet, I fall back asleep.

Bonus:

I couldn't figure out how to fit this one into the story, but the picture was too bizarre not to share.

Moriah greets the reaper.

Chapter XIV: Teens will be Teens

For the first time since Buster's insidious revelation and subsequent death, things have been peaceful in our home. Xander got another promotion and was able to cut back on his hours, so he's home a lot more often, which is wonderful. Not only do the kids get to see more of him, but they also seem to behave better with their father around, and I have more help around the house.

The twins have been a big help too. Timo especially seems to have formed a strong bond with little Isabella, and I often catch him playing with her or tickling her when he thinks nobody is watching. He loves the boys too, but I'm certain Isabella is his favorite.

Mattei, as always, is my angel child, constantly helping change diapers, clean up around the house and even cooking dinner occasionally when the triplets have had a rough day and I'm exhausted.

But the most surprising change is Lilah. Oh, she still gets into trouble often enough. The other night I caught her sneaking inside after curfew on a school night, and we had words.

But instead of her typically snide or hostile reaction, she genuinely apologized. “I lost track of time, Mom, it won't happen again,” she assured me. I hid my smile so she wouldn't get the wrong idea, of course, and I did chastise her and send her to bed, but I was so pleased afterward that I actually cried tears of joy. She's not as open with me emotionally as Timo, or even as helpful around the house as Mattei, but I really feel like our relationship is starting to mend, and I couldn't have asked for anything more precious.

But despite things going well, six children in one house comes with the usual chaos and misadventures.

Last Thursday night, Xander and I were invited to a party for him and his teammates because they made the state championships, and Timo and Mattei happily volunteered to look after the triplets, so we left without a care in the world. The party was supposed to run pretty late. I suppose I would have been a little more anxious if I had left Lilah in charge, but she had gone out to a movie with some friends from school, and I wanted to encourage her to take some time to have fun now that she was back on track with her grades and behavior. My mind was at ease that I had nothing to worry about with the twins taking care of the house. Well... I suppose even good kids make bad decisions sometimes...

From what the boys confessed, I gather that Timo had the bright idea to throw a party while we were out. They called a bunch of friends from school and put the triplets down to bed. Mattei told me Timo was likely just looking for an excuse to get to know a girl from school he has a crush on, but the party apparently got out of hand. The few guests they had invited apparently invited others and before they knew it, the house was full of teens, dancing, making out and passing out on the living room floor. Mattei says Lilah had no idea about the party, and when her friends dropped her off and saw what was going on, they all decided to come join in. Apparently someone brought a keg, and someone brought a sound system, and, well, one thing led to another and the cops came. I came home to Timo getting a lecture from a very irate police officer.

He and Mattei are both grounded of course, and they sheepishly submitted to the punishment, so I'm pretty sure they've learned their lesson. Lilah, on the other hand, I only talked to. I want to be fair, and even though I feel she should have called us and reported what was going on, I know it wasn't her idea, and she's been punished enough lately. She did seem a little overly smug about the boys getting in trouble, though...

* * *

Today was the big day! Xander just retired from his job. He's getting older, and even though I still see the same dashing young brigand I fell in love with every time I look at him, his age is starting to show. Several months ago, he started complaining of pain in his joints, and when a doctor's appointment revealed he was developing some pretty bad arthritis, we talked about it and decide3d it was probably time for him to give up the career in sports. He discussed it with his coach, and the coach agreed to a decent pension.

Even though he insisted he didn't want a party or any big celebration, the kids and I threw him a mini party anyway. I waited until he got in the shower and then we all gathered outside the bathroom door with homemade signs, streamers, and confetti, and after he'd gotten dressed we burst in and surprised him with hugs and gifts. Even Lilah was smiling proudly. Xander was so overwhelmed he teared up, and it was one of the best memories I think I'll ever make with my children...

Day 20: Confrontation

I am just fuming right now! I just don't even know what to do, I'm so mad! I just... UGH!

Okay, I need to start at the beginning:

So on Wednesday this week Joanie pulled me into her office again to let me know I was getting another promotion, this time to a freelance writer. At first I was leery, but then she explained that this will give me more freedom to determine my own hours and sniff out the good stories, since I will be only indirectly affiliated with the town's newspaper. In other words, she wants me to find the nitty-gritty stuff that people might not want to tell someone they knew was a reporter for the local paper the stuff that makes the really big headlines. And... well, when she told me the new salary, I was on board.

Well, that evening I decided to go try out another local haunt to celebrate my promotion. But when I arrived, I discovered that Joanie and her family were all there as well, apparently celebrating one of her son's birthdays. I met both of her sons, good-looking young men named Joe and Jules, as well as her husband, Flint. Joanie and I enjoyed a drink together at the bar and chatted about work for a little while, and then they all headed home while I had another and went home, too.

Well, then on Friday night I decided to head over to the Red Velvet Lounge and check out what sort of people (or non-people, as the case may be) frequent a lounge that advertises itself as a “premier vampire hangout.” Joanie had asked me to start doing more interviews, so when I arrived I quickly introduced myself and struck up a conversation with a friendly-seeming Goth fellow named Malcolm Harris.

I was in the middle of asking him about his fascination with vampires when I saw Flint MacDuff walk in. I smiled at him, but he apparently didn't recognize me in my more formal attire and with my hair down, because he moved past me to the bar and got himself a drink. I made a mental note to catch him after I finished my interview and reintroduce myself, but before I had finished, I snuck a peek only to find him chatting up another woman, very evidently flirting with her.

Well, I couldn't help myself. I hate two-timers, and not only is Joanie a great boss, but I consider myself her friend. I grabbed my own drink and headed over to confront Flint. The other woman was just wandering off as I stepped up.

“Hello,” Flint greeted me, with a smarmy grin on his face.

“Hi, Flint. You don't remember me do you?”

“Should I?” he asked, sipping his drink.

“I would think so, considering we only met two days ago. Sofia Buenavista.”

“It's a pleasure,” he said, extending his hand.

“I work for your wife.”

The color drained from his face. Apparently it wasn't such a pleasure after all.

“I noticed your friend,” I said, jutting my chin in the woman's direction. “Not exactly your type, if she? I mean, based on the fact that you're... I dunno... married?”

That got him. He narrowed his eyes at me. “What are you implying, Miss...”

“Buenavista. And I'm not implying anything. I'm coming right out and saying it! You're a two-timing jackass!”

Well... it pretty much degraded from there, but we basically got into a brief shouting match during which I threatened to tell his wife and he threatened to get me fired and insisted I had no proof that he had done anything wrong. I threw my drink in his face and stormed out. In the cab on my way home, I realized that he was right. I don't have any proof. But I did have a handle on public opinion, courtesy of my job. I didn't have to tell Joanie he was a two-faced liar to get him to stop cheating on her. All I really had to do was smudge his reputation a little, and get all the single women in town to back off. So as soon as I got home, I sat down at my computer and wrote two stories: one positive one on Malcolm Harris (I was feeling charitable, and even though he's kinda weird, I know he could use the good publicity since he's looking for work) and one bad one on Flint.

I kept the piece on Flint pretty low-key. I don't want to get on Joanie's bad side, after all. But I did make sure to prominently declare that he's married with four kids and a hefty mortgage. Hopefully that'll deter any gold-diggers after him.

I just don't get it though. Joanie is a great woman. They seemed to have it all, a beautiful house, great jobs and reputations, awesome kids... why would he gamble all that on a pretty face? I mean... I know it's none of my business and all, but I just don't understand it.

Ugh! Listen to me! I really need to get a life of my own and quit prying into others'. Uncle Saul's always asking me if I have a boyfriend yet.

Oh no! I just received Doreen's email with the obituaries she wrote (she still sends me her stuff for proofreading occasionally , and Flora Goodfellow just died! Of natural causes, it reads. Well... I suppose that's likely. But still... how will I find out about that “fairy dust” she gave me? And it says the funeral is closed to friends and family only. Great... I knew I should have pursued that lead sooner. Damn my lousy timing!

This day is just sucking more the longer it goes on. I'm going to bed.

Day 14: A Promotion and a Decision

Geez, I've been working so much, this is the first chance I've had to get back to my diary for awhile. I've been keeping so busy with work that the only thing I've really had to do in my sparse free-time is exercise and sleep.

Things are going really well at work. In fact, yesterday afternoon, Joanie called me into her office where she told me she's officially promoted me to Automated Spell-Checker Checker. “Since you already do a better job of catching our mistakes than the computer software, anyway!” she explained. I rolled my eyes at that, but thanked her, and when I announced it to my coworkers, one of them, Doreen, cheerfully suggested a girls' night out.

They took me to a local tavern, Varg's, where we danced and had drinks. Doreen invited her daughter, Serena. They look nothing alike, and I didn't make the relative connection at first because Serena is apparently married and has her husband, Rick's, last name.

Anyway, we had our fun last night, and I came home and passed out pretty early. I guess I must just be feeling optimistic from my promotion and the new friends and everything, because I've made a decision: I'm going to write my book. I've been waffling back and forth about it for several years now, and I've finally decided to just do it. In fact, I sat down and wrote the introductory chapter today, and I already know what I'm going to call it: Unnaturals Among Us: A Study of Contemporary Unsolved Cases and their Paranormal Possibilities. I have a lot of research saved up from when I was working at the Revealer on several different cases, but I think for this one I'm going to focus mainly on the vampiric deaths, since that's the majority of the evidence I collected while living in Bridgeport. Anyway, I'm getting excited about writing it, now, so I'll wrap this up and get to it.

Day 3: Questions

My first day at the Daily was mind-numbingly simple, but it was good to be back to being productive again. 

I distributed the orders to various addresses in the morning, then spell-checked a few things in the afternoon. I caught where one of the other girls had misspelled the mayor's name in a story about a recent community festival, and when I brought it to Joanie, she seemed impressed that I had caught it after only having learned his name this morning on my route. I sense a promotion on the horizon!

After work, I felt the urge to exercise again, but the sky looked like it might rain, so I decided to try out the local gym, Bell's Barbell House.

It wasn't exactly state-of-the-art, but my old apartment building back in Bridgeport had a really nice workout center, so I'm sure I was spoiled. Anyway, it had treadmills, which was really all I needed. I warmed up on low for a few minutes then turned it up and ran for awhile, watching the close-captioned news. I didn't notice anyone else until I heard a woman's voice exclaim behind me. An elderly woman had tripped on the treadmill. I hit pause and immediately jumped off to go help her, casting a glare at the inattentive desk clerk who was bobbing his head to the beat of the music on his iPod and paying no attention to anything beside his magazine.

Having ascertained that the woman was alright and didn't need further assistance, I introduced myself. She smiled and shook my hand. “Flora Goodfellow,” she told me. Apparently she lives with her son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter here in town. I told her I had just moved to Dorsey from Bridgeport, and she welcomed me warmly. “You'll like it here, it's beautiful.”

That's when I noticed her wings. I guess I just hadn't been standing at the right angle, because they were pretty thin and diaphonous, easy to miss. Anyone else would've just thought they were seeing things. I leaned in and whispered, “Um, excuse me, but... what are you?”

“What do you mean?” she asked me, wide-eyed.

“You have wings,” I pointed out.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

I frowned. “What do you mean you don't know? They're right there behind you!” Flora got very tense suddenly and she almost looked frightened, so I attempted to reassure her. “Don't worry, I'm not trying to hurt you or anything, I was just curious.”

She looked around the mostly empty gym, then stepped closer. “You... you can see them?” I nodded, and she frowned. “Well, that's odd.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Well, most mortals can't see them,” she said.

“Mortals?” I echoed, getting excited. “What are you?”

She studied me for a moment, then sighed. “Well, you did me a good turn, young lady, so I'll trust you. But beware the wrath of me and my kin if you betray that trust!” She gave me a glare so ferocious that I thought for a moment I might spontaneously combust from the effort of meeting it. But then a brilliant smile lit up her wrinkled old face, and she leaned over to whisper in my ear. “I'm a fairy.”

I gave her a skeptical look, and she sighed again, shaking her white head. “I knew you wouldn't believe me. Here,” she said, and took something out of her pocket. Holding it out to me, she instructed me to cup my hands, and she released a stream of fine yellow dust into my hands.

“What is it?” I asked, poking a finger into the tiny pile in my palm. My finger left an indent and came away coated with the shimmery powder.

“Fairy dust,” Flora said, in an isn't-it-obvious tone. “Be careful with it, though, a little goes a long way. And that's precious stuff! Don't waste it!” Then a car horn honked outside, and the guy at the desk took one earbud out and looked toward us. “Your ride's here, Miss Flora,” he called, replacing his earbud. Flora started. “That'll be my daughter-in-law. I have to go, dear. It was nice meeting you, Sofia. And remember,”-- there was that icy glare again-- “this is our little secret!” With that, she was out the door, and gone before I could collect my things and come looking for her.

When I got home, I put the dust Flora had given me in a little glass jar I found in one of the cabinets, and inspected it. I knew it wasn't cocaine or anything like that. I had run into that enough times covering stories back in Bridgeport to be able to identify it easily: crackheads see some pretty loony things when they're high. This stuff was different, more like gold powder used by artists. It didn't look like anything particularly special. Finally, I put it away, laughing at myself. Here I am, in a new town, and the first person I meet who isn't a coworker is a crazy old lady who thinks she's a fairy. But then I thought about those wings again. They had looked real... they even moved. Was it possible? Could she actually be a fairy? Or were those just some really impressive high tech fakes, maybe her son's way of playing into his mother's aging delusions. But then what kind of son would do that to his elderly mother?

I don't know. I have more questions than answers at this point. I'll have to figure out where the Goodfellows live and see if I can pay Miss Flora a visit. Perhaps her daughter-in-law can clear things up for me. We'll see.

Day 2: Acclimating

I had an interview this morning for a job as a paper girl at the local newspaper, the Dorsey Daily. I'm a little annoyed that I have to start over at the bottom of the totem pole when I was second only to the editor-in-chief back in Bridgeport, but at least I got the job. My boss is a woman named Joanie MacDuff, and most of my coworkers are women too, so work promises to be a fun little estrogen-fest.

After my interview, I went for a walk around the north end of town. I found an interesting old barn in a misty field.

The place felt rife with mystery. I could practically feel eyes watching me from the boarded up windows. There was even a water well up on the roof. I'll have to remember to ask Joanie if she knows anything about that. It's kind of an odd design decision. I wonder if it links back to any of the town's origins? Maybe the early settlers here had superstitions regarding the storage of their water, or they didn't want it to be contaminated by ground-dwelling creatures. Hmm...

Anyway, while I was exploring I happened into Gypsy's Landing Park along the river, and discovered the fortune-teller's caravan. I was excited: psychics may not always be genuinely talented in and of themselves, but they do tend to have an “in” on the supernatural and otherworldly occurrences in the vicinity, and often make great sources for leads. So I figured I'd go give this one a try.

Total waste of money! After spending over 100 simoleans, I walked away with nothing more useful than advice “not to ask a ghost for healthy living tips.” The man who read my palm was a total charlatan, and probably not even a real gypsy. He looked more homegrown Anglo-German descent than Romani, despite his costume, which even under dim lighting was obviously bought at a store during Halloween. So much for that lead! I guess if this town is hiding supernaturals, I'll have to find them on my own.

After my laughable fortune-telling, I decided to jog home, since my funds are getting tight and I really can't afford any more cabs. What with packing and the move, I haven't had time to fit in a good jog for almost a week, so it was nice to stretch my legs and get some fresh air moving through my lungs.

That is one definite advantage to this little town: less pollution. The mountain air is refreshing and clean, and even a little crisp for May. Must be the altitude.

On my way back to my little redneck paradise, my cell rang, but I was enjoying the exercise so much I didn't bother answering it. I checked it when I got home, though. It was my Aunt Maria. She and Uncle Saul were just wondering how I was settling in. I called her back, of course, and entertained her with descriptions of the tiny little backwoods town I had discovered. She didn't say as much, but I could tell she was worried about me. She and Uncle Saul are always so anxious when it comes to me. I swear, it's like every time they look at me they still see the quiet, shy, traumatized ten year old I was when I first came to live with them. I'm not that girl anymore. I mean, sure, I still think about mom and dad. I even cry for them sometimes, late at night when I've had the dream again, and I wake up with that awful face in my mind and the smell of phantom smoke lingering in my nostrils. But I'm hardly the breakable china doll Aunt Maria takes me to be. I'm a grown woman, almost thirty years old, with a career (or the shredded remains of one, anyway) and goals of my own.

Of course, my goals are probably part of the reason she worries about me. She and Uncle Saul are staunch Catholics, and resolutely refuse to admit the possibility of the existence of anything supernatural. That used to be a real point of contention between us when I was a teen, especially that time when I got in an argument with Father David after mass. My cousins used to tease me incessantly: Spooky Sofi, they called me. That only bothered me until I saw my first episode of X-Files. Then I considered it a compliment. Like Fox Mulder, “I want to believe”.

And further, I'm determined to find proof and share it with the world. I know there are others out there, other like me, frightened children and jaded adults who have seen the creatures that go bump in the night and who are teased mercilessly by others until they doubt what they know to be true: that supernaturals exist, and that there are some things science cannot explain, or hasn't explained yet, and that those things prey on us, on our blind ignorance and innocence. I know they're out there. I've seen them, at least once, and I won't rest until I've proved it to all the well-meaning but ignorant people like my aunt and uncle out there who refuse to believe in anything they can't see and touch.

Day One: Arrival in Dorsey

Well, here I am. The cab driver made pretty good time from the airport, so it was still late morning when he dropped me off.

I'm a little drowsy from my overnight flight, but happy to be here. Well, I was, anyway, until I saw the house. Geez, what a crappy rental! This place is basically a trailer. Gotta love the green astroturf. The inside looks like it was decorated in the eighties and then flash-frozen to preserve everything. The bedroom is complete with faux wood paneling, and everything smells like patchouli, so I can only imagine that the lady who rented this place to me has a deadbeat grandson who likes to hang out here with his friends and hasn't caught gotten the memo that certain scents are commonly associated with potheads.

This place is so retro, it even has little pink plastic flamingos out front. I couldn't help myself. I was so annoyed when I arrived that I kicked one over.

I decided to leave it like that-- it adds a touch of pained irony to the place. And of course, no sooner did I put my clothes away than I looked out the window and saw this:

So on top of bad decorating and the odor, it comes with it's own pest problem too. If I see a roach, I am calling that woman and demanding my money back. First priority after I get a job: find a new place! I have a little saved up, but not much. The move ate up most of it.

Damn, I'm still seething from that. That self-righteous dirtbag, Carter! How dare he fire me? I was his best writer on that paper, hands down! He's told me as much himself, several times! I uncovered the story about that string of dead prostitutes killed in Bridgeport with bite-marks on their necks. I even revealed Matthew Hamming's secret donations toward immortality research! And after all that, when I refuse to make up news on a slow newsweek, he up and fires me? Me?! I don't care if it the Revealer IS a supermarket tabloid, I still have standards. I don't mind digging up a story, but I refuse to make one up! Bastard! Guess this is what a reporter gets for having standards. But there are enough weird things going on out there in the world without making up lies to put on the headlines! Things like my parents' death...

Take this town for instance: of all the sleepy little hamlets in the country, this one keeps popping up every time I investigate strange or unusual cases involving supernatural phenomena. Plus, Dorsey has the highest rate of mortality due to “natural” causes of any town with a similar population in the country. Add in the fact that there have been multiple UFO, ghost, and Bigfoot sightings in the area, and there's even a “vampire” hangout, and you've got a hotspot of supernatural mysteries just waiting to be revealed. And I swear, when I write the expose that proves the existence of supernaturals to the world, I am going to relish the opportunity to rub Carter's smug face in it.

Well, I guess I should get some sleep. This town is hiding secrets like nobody's business, and starting tomorrow, I'm going to figure them out. Ugh! If I can get any sleep with all this racket. Damn raccoons!

Chapter XIII: Crime and Punishment

(Note: Sorry, pics are acting up again. I could only use some of the ones I uploaded, so they don't start until late in the chapter, and some of them are clearly with the twins from a younger age than they were in the wedding pics. Please bear with me, hopefully this will be the last of the technical difficulties.)

“Suspended! Lilah Hemlock, what is the matter with you?!”

Mom's obviously furious, and I don't say anything. It doesn't matter what I say anyway. Even if I told her the truth, that that idiot Bobby McGee started the whole thing and I only got in a fight with him because he kept calling me a “Psycho-dyko” and shoving me into lockers, she would only call me a liar. Besides she doesn't even know I'm gay, and I don't need to give her one more reason to freak out right now.

Psycho-dyko... I snort. It's not even a creative insult. At least I have the satisfaction of knowing my left hook knocked the smug grin off that troglodyte jock's face.

“Suspended!” she shouts again, and one of the triplets, strapped into their car seats in the back of the car, starts to cry.

“Shhhh, it's okay Izzy,” Mom soothes her, shooting me an accusatory look.

“What? You're the one shouting!” I say defensively, and that just earns me another aggravated sigh.

“Lilah, what am I supposed to do with you? Your grades are in the toilet, you're moody and rude every chance you get, you pick mercilessly on your little brothers, and now you've just been suspended from school for getting in fights!”

“A fight,” I mutter.

“Excuse me?”

“A fight, Mom. It was only one.”

“Whatever! I don't care if it was a million. Your behavior is unacceptable! And on top of it I had to come all the way down to your school and pick you up with all three babies. I am calling your father as soon as we get home, and we are going to sit down and have a serious talk. Something needs to change, Lilah. I have had enough of this.”

I roll my eyes and say nothing, staring out the window as we drive toward home. I can only imagine my punishment will be more of the same: extra chores, helping around the house, grounding, etc. Nothing new there. I sigh. My life sucks.

* * *

My hands were still shaking as I dialed Xander's cell number. As soon as we got home, I made Lilah help me put the triplets down for their nap, and then I sent her to her room. Now, as I listened to my phone ringing, I could hear her in there muttering to herself as she so often did. Normally that behavior worried me, but right now all I could feel was anger. How could she do this?! What had happened to my good little girl in her onesie that had transformed her into this teenaged monster?

“Hey, babe.” Xander sounded out of breath, probably just having come in off the playing field at practice.

“Xander, I need you come home early.”

“Okay. What's wrong?”

“Lilah was suspended from school.”

“Suspended? What did she do?”

“I guess she she got in a fight with one of the boys in her class. Anyway, I had to pack the triplets and drive down and pick her up and bring her home. She's not allowed back at school for a full week, and I just don't know what to do with her.”

“I hope she knows she's grounded,” he said imperiously.

“You know, Xander, I don't think grounding is gonna do it in this situation. That's why I need you to come home. We need to talk about some more serious consequences this time.”

“What did you have in mind?” he asked.

I sighed. “I don't know. But something. She needs to learn that she can't just get away with whatever she wants. She needs to grow up!”

Xander was silent for a moment, and I thought I heard one of the triplets cry out. But then everything was quiet.

“Okay, babe, I think I have an idea. But I gotta go right now. Coach wants us to have a meeting and then I'm gonna come home and we'll talk. Okay?”

“Okay,” I replied, sullenly.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He hung up, and I went to knock on Lilah's door. Her murmuring voice went silent as I approached. “Lilah?” I asked, opening the door.

“What?” she groaned irritably, paintbrush in hand as she stood at her easel. She was painting another picture of a woman, and the thought briefly struck me that she never seemed to paint men. Odd. “You're father's on his way home. We're going to have a family meeting when he gets here.”

“Okay,” she said, rolling her eyes and turning back to her easel. I sighed and closed the door, willing my husband to get home as soon as possible.

* * *

Mom was serious about the talk. As soon as Dad got home, he sent the twins-- whom he had picked up from school on his way-- to their room and he and mom and I sat down in the living room. Now they're both looking at me with that condescending you're-in-big-trouble-young-lady look I know so well.

“Here's the deal, Lilah,” Dad says. “You need to grow up and learn a little responsibility. Your mom and I both agree that you get away with far too much, and you've never really had to deal with the consequences of your actions. So I have an idea, and I'm going to give you a choice.” I raise an eyebrow, only mildly interested.

“Moriah, this was going to be a surprise, but I won a free cruise in a raffle at work. I was going to take you for our anniversary, but I think this is better timing. I know you've been completely frazzled around here, juggling all the kids and now with this, so I want to take you away for a week and let you relax.”

Mom gives Dad a doubtful look, and stammers, “But, what about the kids--?”

Dad smiles. “That's where Lilah comes in.”

I don't follow, and I echo Mom's doubtful look. “Excuse me?”

“One of your biggest issues, young lady, is disrespecting your mother. She works hard to take care of you guys and make sure you have a good life, and yet you are rude and disrespectful to her every chance you get. I think its time you learned a little of what it's like to be her.”

“Xander, I don't--”

“Trust me, Moriah, I have this all planned out.” He turns back to me, all businesslike. “Here is your choice: you will spend the entire week that we are gone and while you are suspended taking care of the house and your siblings. You will cook, clean, change diapers, and make sure the twins get on and off the schoolbus on time. You will not leave the house unless there is an emergency, and you will call us every night to check in.”

“But, Dad--”

“I will have Dorie Hart come check on you a couple times during the week, and if the house is dirty or your siblings are not well-taken care of, she will let us know immediately, and you will be punished when we get home.”

“Punished how?” I ask, crossing my arms. I can't imagine a punishment worse than the one he's already giving me. A week playing Susie Homemaker? Ugh!

“Military school.”

Both mom and I do a double-take, staring at him wide-eyed. “Military school?” I echo in complete disbelief. Dad nods, confidently.

“This is your last chance, Lilah. If you can't be whipped into shape by a week in your mother's shoes, then your only choice is to spend your last year and a half of high school in military school. It's up to you.”

“Xander, can I speak with you, please?” Mom hisses, and they stand up and walk into the kitchen, where mom begins whispering frantically to him. I just sit, stunned.

Military school...

On the one hand, I think maybe it would be nice to get away from the school full of morons I'm currently imprisoned at, and especially to be free of Bobby McGee and his goons. But... I'm no fool. I've heard about the military and their less-than-friendly stance toward homosexuals. And I'm sure they start 'em young at places like that. I can hold my own against a single jock, but I wouldn't stand a chance at a place like that, where probably all the kids were trained in hand-to-hand combat since they were three or whatever. I'd be dead meat before I even hit first period. I shudder.

Dad's calmed mom down somewhat, and they both come back and sit. She keeps looking at him uncertainly, but I guess he must have convinced her, because looks pointedly at me. “So, Lilah, what's it gonna be?”

* * *

I watched my daughter's face anxiously, halfway hoping she'd just choose military school. But as if sensing my thoughts, she only considered a moment before slumping her shoulders and agreeing to Xander's terms. “Fine, I'll watch the brats,” she said in a monotone voice, and I felt my blood pressure spike.

By the next morning, Xander had booked our cruise and our bags were packed. I had called Dorie to explain the situation and she assured me she would be happy to be our eyes and ears while we were gone. “Don't worry about a thing, Moriah,” she said. “I think Xander has the right idea here. Hopefully this will really open Lilah's eyes and teach her to appreciate everything you do. And I'll make sure and mix it up so she doesn't know when I'm coming, and you get a really good idea of how things are going.”

I thanked Dorie and hung up, feeling only a little better about leaving Lilah in charge. Sunday came, and the taxi pulled up to the curb and honked. “Come on, Moriah, sparkling white beaches and crystal clear waters are calling!” Xander called, taking our bags out to the cab.

I kissed each of my children goodbye and bade them be good for their sister. Timo bristled a little. He was a teenager himself and felt it unjust that Lilah should be left in charge of him, but Mattei hugged me and assured me that he and his brother would make sure everything was fine until I got home. Then I came to Lilah.

“Mom,” she said in a businesslike manner.

“Lilah, honey,” I said, nervous. “Please, just make this work, okay? I know you can do this. I'm trusting you. And don't be afraid to ask for help if you get overwhelmed. Dorie's number is on the fridge.”

“Mom, I'll be fine,” she growled. “Just go.”

I hugged her, and she stood stiffly, waiting for me to let go. Finally, I walked out to join Xander in the cab. He waved to the kids and shouted his goodbye, then got in beside me. As we pulled away from the house, I tried not to worry so much. Xander took my hand. “It's gonna be okay,” he assured me. “Lilah's gonna step up, I know it. And Dorie will make sure she does. Come on, beautiful, just think: in a few hours we'll be on our way to the tropics with a drink in our hands and nothing to worry about but a week of relaxing.” I smiled at him and tried to stop worrying. Maybe he was right, maybe it would all be okay.

* * *

I watch my parents leave for their cruise with a sinking feeling in my stomach, but I swallow my fear, and as their cab disappears around the corner, I turn to the others. “Okay, guys, it's naptime for the triplets. Timo, Mattei, help me get them all upstairs.”

Timo crosses his arms and lifts an eyebrow, and Mattei peeks at me over his twin's shoulder and mouths the word “please”.

“Uh, please?” I add, and Timo rolls his eyes, crouching to lift Isabella.

“Thanks,” I say, and pick up Illian. Mattei gets Inigo, and we head upstairs. Here we go, I think.

Surprisingly, the week went more smoothly than expected. The cooking was a breeze. I stuck mostly to making autumn salad for the boys and myself, and the triplets were still on milk and cereal, so that wasn't too hard.

Juggling the triplets was pretty difficult at first, and it never got easy, but as I sent more time with them, I started to learn their individual patterns, which made it easier to anticipate their needs.

The housecleaning was a pain, especially since the boys didn't really help much. I definitely started to realize just how busy mom was during the day while we were all at school. I'd always thought she just sat around watching TV, but between caring for the triplets and cleaning up after the boys and myself, I barely had an hour to sti down before the twins were back from school and it was time to make dinner and start on homework. Mattei did help in the evenings occassionally, and I even managed to get some of my own backlogged homework done with Timo one night.

Toward the end of the week, I was starting to settle into a routine. Surprisingly, even Grandpa left me alone most of the time, and I was finding it rather pleasant to spend the day busy with repetitive chores that allowed me time to think, about my life, about the future, and about my own dreams. I even started to enjoy pruning Mom's garden.

Of course, not all of the day was calm and busy. Sometimes the triplets would keep me practically frantic all day, but we had some sweet moments too. Holding them, I started thinking about what Grandpa wanted me to do, and I've even started to look forward to it. It might be nice to have my own little baby to take care of.

But Grandpa hasn't really said anything about it lately, and I got the feeling he'd decided to let me off the hook until I was a little older. With Mom and Dad breathing down my neck like they always are, it's not exactly like I can go find some guy to impregnate me. Besides, I'm sure the last thing he wants is to become the child of a teen mom whose parents kicked her out because her getting pregnant was the last straw.

Anyway, Mom and Dad are due back today. They just called to say they're in port, and I've had my hands full trying to keep the triplets clean and happy long enough for them to come home and see the good job I've done. Mattei's been a huge help, and I'm starting to understand why he's Mom's favorite.

* * *

The cruise had been seven days of absolute paradise, basking in the hot tropical sun, getting massages at the on-deck spa, and sipping beverages with Xander as the sun dipped below the horizon. With voicemails awaiting us from Dorie at every port assuring us that Lilah was doing a competent job keeping the house in order and the babies happy, I'd actually even managed to relax and enjoy myself.

But now that we were on our way home, I was nervous again. I believed Dorie that Lilah had stepped it up impressively, but I still wasn't sure of what Xander seemed so confidant about, that a week in “my shoes” would result in a better relationship between her and I. Still, I couldn't really imagine things being any worse between my daughter and I, so as we drew up to the house, I took a deep breath and prepared for the aftermath.

I got out of the car and headed toward the house while Xander tipped the cabbie. I couldn't believe how much I'd missed my babies, and as I opened the door, their cherubic faces brought tears of joy to my eyes. I rushed to Lilah, who was holding Isabella, and gave them both an awkward, heartfelt hug. “Oh, I missed you guys!” I said, kissing Izzy on the head. I hugged and kissed all the boys too, then took Izzy from Lilah, and finally looked around. The house looked... good! The counters had been wiped and the floor vacuumed, and even the kids toys were put away. The triplets were all dressed in matching clean jumpers and looked healthy and happy. Even the twins looked fine. I turned to Lilah, beaming. “I'm so porud of you, sweetheart,” I said. She rolled her eyes, but I caught a smile before she saw her father walk in.

We both watched Xander anxiously for his reaction. After setting down our bags and walking around the house, he came back to stand in front of Lilah and pulled her in for a hug. “Good job, honey. You've passed the test.” You could practically feel the breeze as everyone in the room let out a collective sigh of relief.

“Now, this doesn't mean you don't still have some work to do, though,” Xander admonished Lilah. “I still expect you to get to work raising those lousy grades next week. And until they're up, you're under lock-down, no going out. Understood?” Lilah nodded mutely, and I smiled. Maybe... just maybe, there was hope for my little girl after all.