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Description
Chapter One

The atmosphere stifling, I wondered how most humans breathed on airplanes as tightly packed as mine was. Having waited until the last minute to purchase my ticket, I found myself at a loss when first class had been booked and any other travel time brought me far too close to chasing the rays of the sun. When I finally consented to the ticket's purchase, I knew I would be in for a less-than-ideal flight across the continental United States. I had no idea, however, that I had consigned myself to six hours of misery.

Indulging in a steadying breath, I glanced at my watch and wondered momentarily if I had made the right decision. The position I had been forced into could have leant itself to a myriad of responses, but rather than fighting my brother Robin, I accepted his assignment without even a terse objection. Perhaps because I felt guilty and perhaps because I knew this was, in part, punishment, even if he claimed nothing of the sort. Truth be told, it was hard to take it any other way while seated in midst of a sold out Economy Class.

I stole a glance around as though to confirm this fact.

While traveling had become old hat to me over the years, I could not recall a time when so many of the stereotypes one associates with airline flights had been present all at once. There were crying children and upset parents. The attendants were brusque, at best, and snide during their more trying moments spent dealing with troublesome travelers. I had been seated beside a portly man who snored, and the elderly woman to my left insisted on engaging in a monologue directed for my ears alone. For a split second, I questioned whether or not I should summon Flynn to take control of our shared body.

He knew better than to make the demand after what had happened.

Sighing, I ignored the elderly woman in favor of staring out the window. A scotch sat neglected on the tray in front of me, and a notebook lay closed beside it, with a pen placed neatly atop when I determined I would not get any writing done under these conditions. Still, words danced in my head, with emotions accompanying them I could feel jabbing me when I stopped to muse on them. The world had changed so much in so short an amount of time.

As tempted as I was to blame the entire debacle on Celine, I realized how much of this had been years in the making. I could yet feel the cool steel of the sword poised in my hand as I watched my wife and lover turn to dust before my eyes fifteen years ago. While the drunken tirade I threw on the bridge in France had been the lowest point which followed, I managed to skirt close to several points just as low in the intervening years.

I drank and whored for seven years in Toronto. While Ophelia sought to train a respectable vampire out of me, I excelled only in polishing my exterior while lost in whatever would dull my senses. Still, I paid attention when I needed to. I bowed when the occasion called for it and sat in on enough conferences that I learned the art of being a coven's second with diplomatic precision. Nothing, however, prepared me for facing the ghosts I thought I left buried in Philadelphia.

The irony was not lost on me; Robin returned from an extended journey eager to talk about what he had discovered. I recalled him pulling me by my coat, leading me into a private room and shutting the door excitedly behind us. I perked an eyebrow and laughed as my older, more regal brother looked more like a boy than a vampire of over a century. "What has you in such a fit, Robin?" I asked as I spun around once to line him in my sights.

The long-haired vampire did not pause in his fevered pursuit. His ponytail bounced from shoulder to shoulder while he spirited to the lamp and switched it on. The room filled with light, giving us more than moonlight and the ambient glow of the corridor sconces to illuminate our impromptu meeting. I folded my arms across my chest and watched, waiting for him set his knapsack down and settle into one of the high back, leather chairs before strolling to one as well. I sat and shook my head. "Dear brother, if I did not know better, I would think you had met a new paramour."

Robin laughed. "Hardly, though I did enjoy some pleasant company on this trip," he said as he crossed one leg over his knee. He steepled his hands, the grin on his face only broadening. "The last few days have been surreal, dear brother. Please, ask me why."

Laughing, I reached into my pocket for my cigarette case. "Regale me; why have the last few days been surreal?"

He chuckled as I produced a cigarette and lit it. "It is true, what Ophelia said. Matthew is alive again."

For as startling as the revelation had been when it was first offered to me, I was ill-prepared to hear the myth proven by another set of eyes. Instinctively, I rested against the back of the chair and let the tobacco burn for several seconds before raising it to my lips. The breath I indulged lingered longer, and when I finally exhaled, the smoke billowing from my mouth clouded my viewpoint for a much-needed moment. I perked an eyebrow and tapped out ash in an adjacent ashtray. "How is this possible?"

Robin smirked. "Do you recall Rome?"

"Which visit to Rome?"

"When you read from the scrolls and fought the dark magician."

Veles. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth at recalling what had become simpler times. "Yes, I could hardly forget." For as tempted as I was to add, 'when my wife was still alive,' Robin's reference finally impacted the way it was intended. I succumbed to a laugh despite myself. "I brought Matthew back from the grave?"

He laughed and nodded emphatically. "Yes, you did. He said he woke within the crowd and thought better of lingering. He escaped before he could witness your battle with the dark magician and, as such, didn't know it was you who summoned the dead to life again." His grin finally faded. "You'll have to forgive him if he wasn't eager to thank you for the favor, though."

I sighed, my own smile faltering, but not disappearing altogether. "No, I do not blame him. It is hard to be grateful to the person who sent you to the grave in the first place." My eyes turned distant, a brief image flickering past my mind of the dark-haired coven master I had killed when my name was yet Flynn. The thought springing forth was just as damning. What would Matthew Pritchard say if he knew Flynn was still alive?

"These things are to be expected," Robin said, drawing my attention away from the recesses it had descended. My gaze shifted back to his in time to see the smile return. "He told me something fascinating, though. This is the news I wanted to share."

"The dead coming back to life is not momentous enough?" I asked with a chuckle.

"Momentous, yes, but while some things were restored, others never left in the first place."

Bringing the cigarette to my mouth, I drew deeply from it and waited for Robin to continue. He lowered his leg, foot resting on the ground again, and leaned forward in his seat. "They're alive, dear brother. Our immortal siblings are still in Philadelphia."

My eyes widened, the hand holding my cigarette lowering to rest on the arm of the chair. "Heavens," I murmured. "I admit, I have not spared a thought toward them in so many years."

"I know." He laughed, running his hand across his scalp as though a few strands of hair had come loose from his ponytail which needed to be smoothed back into place. "But there they were. Louis and Charles have been looking after them. Rebecka, Joan, Vincent, and the others; all of them have not scattered in all these years, save but for a soul or two."

"And they were living with Matthew?"

"Heavens, no." He laughed. "Can you imagine the children of Sabrina under the same roof as the children of Matthew? No, Matthew relocated to Trenton a few years ago. The area covens have finally mended enough for them to establish a regional presence again, so they determined Matthew should assume the mantle as their leader once more."

I nodded, then perked an eyebrow. "Where are the others living then, if not with Matthew?"

Robin drew a deep breath inward. Holding it only to exhale it slowly, I watched his mirth surrender to a solemn sobriety. He looked away and remained lost in his thoughts until finally glancing back at me. "They were living in the same building we had occupied. Hiding in the dark, with no electricity and none of the comforts the coven had boasted of before. Sabrina and I were the only ones listed as able to touch the coven's assets, so they managed along as best as they could. Fortunately, Louis was never removed from the building's title, or they wouldn't have even had that left."

My expression sank to match my brother's. "Had we known…"

"… We could have turned the assets over to Louis at the very least, yes, but I don't think that'll be good enough." Robin rose to his feet. He paced behind the chair and touched the back with both hands, his gaze turning more deliberate. "They need better leadership. Louis is not even half a century, and he's the eldest amongst the ones remaining."

I nodded in agreement. "Yes, I believe you are correct. Will they submit to anyone's oversight, however?"

"Yes and no. I asked Louis and Charles the same question and while Charles has no grievance against Matthew, Louis still remains skeptical despite everything that happened. I got the sense it's been his determination not to seek outside help with the coven."

"If not Matthew or one of his children, then who?"

A smile blossomed on Robin's face again, taking on a conspiratorial tone. A hint of wonder danced in his eyes, and suddenly I understood why he had dragged me into the room with such a spirit of whimsy. "Matthew asked if I would take control of the coven. And I have asked if you could be my second."

I swallowed past a lump forming in my throat, at once feeling a swarm of butterflies take flight inside my stomach. While Robin refused to look away, I found myself nearly shaken, jumping when the ash which had accumulated on my cigarette fell onto my fingers. I snuffed out the cigarette and brushed the remnant from my linen jacket, but even these motions were meant merely to stall. Robin continued to wait while I cleared my throat. "And how did Matthew feel about that?" I managed.

Robin did not respond right away. I looked up at him when the silence became conspicuous and saw him hesitate. "He… might not have shared my enthusiasm."

My eyebrow arched. "And this surprises you?"

He shrugged. "I suppose I am so used to not seeing you as Flynn any longer. Matthew hasn't had that luxury." He smiled softly at me. "You have come a long way. Please don't let his doubt dissuade you. Ophelia tells me you've come along very nicely and that she'd give her seal of approval should you require a recommendation."

"Very kind of her." The smoke lingering in the room settled on me like a shroud, feeling like it could choke the life out of a creature that no longer needed to breathe. I sensed the walls closing in and might have slumped in my chair if it would not have given me away. As it was, I needed to hyperventilate, but could not; needed to run, but had no place to go. This is what I had been training to do for seven years, yet the Fates appeared to be playing the cruelest of tricks on me. Forcing me back to the place where I had been the most infamous.

"Why are you so nervous?"

I huffed and reached for my cigarette case again. "Should that not be obvious?"

Robin frowned when I looked at him again. "Calm yourself, Peter. It isn't as though Flynn is still an issue. All he needs is time to see how much you've changed."

I winced inwardly. 'It isn't as though Flynn is still an issue.' The statement itself felt like it had the ability to summon him; Flynn's consciousness turned itself like the Eye of Sauron focused on the ring of power. My gaze remained fixed on Robin, and I struggled to say the words, but could not will them to come. He needed to know my alter ego had not slipped into the shadows after Monica's death.

Truth be told, he had haunted me ever since.

But Flynn snatched the confession before it could be made manifest. In my hesitation, Robin smiled and walked over, crouching before me and placing a hand on my shoulder. "You're the one I trust, dear brother," he said. His expression turned calm; reassuring. He squeezed my shoulder once in an affectionate manner. "We've seen hell together and walked to the other side of perdition. Could you stand beside me once again?"

"You once asked something similar of me," I said, speaking on automatic. My speech felt coerced, as though another entity held my vocal cords hostage. I furrowed my brow. "Do you truly want to take another chance on me?"

His smile faltered, but quickly recovered. "It isn't taking a chance. What's past is past and left far behind the both of us." The wrinkle in his demeanor smoothed itself as though it had never occurred. "I know you'll stand up to whatever questions they might have for you; you're Peter the seer. Peter the vampire. Flynn the assassin died back in Philadelphia."

Whatever hold Flynn has established relented, freeing me to use my own voice again. The damage had been done, however. I nodded, smiling in an agreeable fashion. "Then I agree to speak with Matthew and assuage any doubts he might have."

Robin patted me once before standing straight again. My grin fought to depart, but I held onto it as though it was the last piece of floating wreckage from a sunken ship. "I will inform Matthew and Ophelia," he said, and I failed to stop him as he walked to the doors. I failed to react at all until my brother had disappeared around another corner.

That was when my hands started to shake. I lit another cigarette and poured a glass near to the brim with Irish whiskey. By the time I settled in to rest, I had the company of another vampiress and the comfort of her body curled around mine. Blowing smoke rings in the dark, I stared up at the ceiling and wondered if I could keep my alter ego in check where he had been the most notorious. Granted, I had kept him on a tight leash to that point and would continue to for seven years following.

That all changed when Celine came along.

"Sir?"

The female voice snapped me from the clutches of memory, bringing me back to the airplane and the bed I had made for myself in the present. A flight attendant leaned as close as she could without suffocating the elderly woman and painted a plastic smile on her face for my benefit. "We're going to be landing soon," she said. "Would you please finish your drink and move your tray table to an upright position?"

'Mmm… I do enjoy when they mention positions.'

'Be quiet, Flynn.'

"Very well, Miss." Taking the drink in hand, I tipped the remainder of the contents down my throat and passed the emptied glass to the flight attendant. The phony grin held firm until she turned away, then melted into the tired expression of someone who had been tried past their threshold. I felt immediate sympathy for the woman, musing on how many lengths of rope had encompassed my fuse since Flynn and I started switching. He might have reserved his casual takeovers to slips of the tongue, but when I started dating again, the blackouts gained in frequency. What had been a manageable inconvenience escalated into an ever-present fear.

I never knew where I would find myself each time I regained consciousness.

Sighing, I glanced toward the porthole window again. The lights of San Francisco shone like a thousand florescent diamonds in a sea of inky black. The snoring man startled awake as the pilot announced our descent, and as I slipped my book and pen into my briefcase, I indulged in a steadying breath, reminding myself I had a façade I needed to maintain. Despite the reasons why I had been assigned this task, I had a mission to accomplish.

For the first time, the thought was a welcomed comfort. Heaven knew I needed a distraction.

Description
Chapter One

The atmosphere stifling, I wondered how most humans breathed on airplanes as tightly packed as mine was. Having waited until the last minute to purchase my ticket, I found myself at a loss when first class had been booked and any other travel time brought me far too close to chasing the rays of the sun. When I finally consented to the ticket's purchase, I knew I would be in for a less-than-ideal flight across the continental United States. I had no idea, however, that I had consigned myself to six hours of misery.

Indulging in a steadying breath, I glanced at my watch and wondered momentarily if I had made the right decision. The position I had been forced into could have leant itself to a myriad of responses, but rather than fighting my brother Robin, I accepted his assignment without even a terse objection. Perhaps because I felt guilty and perhaps because I knew this was, in part, punishment, even if he claimed nothing of the sort. Truth be told, it was hard to take it any other way while seated in midst of a sold out Economy Class.

I stole a glance around as though to confirm this fact.

While traveling had become old hat to me over the years, I could not recall a time when so many of the stereotypes one associates with airline flights had been present all at once. There were crying children and upset parents. The attendants were brusque, at best, and snide during their more trying moments spent dealing with troublesome travelers. I had been seated beside a portly man who snored, and the elderly woman to my left insisted on engaging in a monologue directed for my ears alone. For a split second, I questioned whether or not I should summon Flynn to take control of our shared body.

He knew better than to make the demand after what had happened.

Sighing, I ignored the elderly woman in favor of staring out the window. A scotch sat neglected on the tray in front of me, and a notebook lay closed beside it, with a pen placed neatly atop when I determined I would not get any writing done under these conditions. Still, words danced in my head, with emotions accompanying them I could feel jabbing me when I stopped to muse on them. The world had changed so much in so short an amount of time.

As tempted as I was to blame the entire debacle on Celine, I realized how much of this had been years in the making. I could yet feel the cool steel of the sword poised in my hand as I watched my wife and lover turn to dust before my eyes fifteen years ago. While the drunken tirade I threw on the bridge in France had been the lowest point which followed, I managed to skirt close to several points just as low in the intervening years.

I drank and whored for seven years in Toronto. While Ophelia sought to train a respectable vampire out of me, I excelled only in polishing my exterior while lost in whatever would dull my senses. Still, I paid attention when I needed to. I bowed when the occasion called for it and sat in on enough conferences that I learned the art of being a coven's second with diplomatic precision. Nothing, however, prepared me for facing the ghosts I thought I left buried in Philadelphia.

The irony was not lost on me; Robin returned from an extended journey eager to talk about what he had discovered. I recalled him pulling me by my coat, leading me into a private room and shutting the door excitedly behind us. I perked an eyebrow and laughed as my older, more regal brother looked more like a boy than a vampire of over a century. "What has you in such a fit, Robin?" I asked as I spun around once to line him in my sights.

The long-haired vampire did not pause in his fevered pursuit. His ponytail bounced from shoulder to shoulder while he spirited to the lamp and switched it on. The room filled with light, giving us more than moonlight and the ambient glow of the corridor sconces to illuminate our impromptu meeting. I folded my arms across my chest and watched, waiting for him set his knapsack down and settle into one of the high back, leather chairs before strolling to one as well. I sat and shook my head. "Dear brother, if I did not know better, I would think you had met a new paramour."

Robin laughed. "Hardly, though I did enjoy some pleasant company on this trip," he said as he crossed one leg over his knee. He steepled his hands, the grin on his face only broadening. "The last few days have been surreal, dear brother. Please, ask me why."

Laughing, I reached into my pocket for my cigarette case. "Regale me; why have the last few days been surreal?"

He chuckled as I produced a cigarette and lit it. "It is true, what Ophelia said. Matthew is alive again."

For as startling as the revelation had been when it was first offered to me, I was ill-prepared to hear the myth proven by another set of eyes. Instinctively, I rested against the back of the chair and let the tobacco burn for several seconds before raising it to my lips. The breath I indulged lingered longer, and when I finally exhaled, the smoke billowing from my mouth clouded my viewpoint for a much-needed moment. I perked an eyebrow and tapped out ash in an adjacent ashtray. "How is this possible?"

Robin smirked. "Do you recall Rome?"

"Which visit to Rome?"

"When you read from the scrolls and fought the dark magician."

Veles. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth at recalling what had become simpler times. "Yes, I could hardly forget." For as tempted as I was to add, 'when my wife was still alive,' Robin's reference finally impacted the way it was intended. I succumbed to a laugh despite myself. "I brought Matthew back from the grave?"

He laughed and nodded emphatically. "Yes, you did. He said he woke within the crowd and thought better of lingering. He escaped before he could witness your battle with the dark magician and, as such, didn't know it was you who summoned the dead to life again." His grin finally faded. "You'll have to forgive him if he wasn't eager to thank you for the favor, though."

I sighed, my own smile faltering, but not disappearing altogether. "No, I do not blame him. It is hard to be grateful to the person who sent you to the grave in the first place." My eyes turned distant, a brief image flickering past my mind of the dark-haired coven master I had killed when my name was yet Flynn. The thought springing forth was just as damning. What would Matthew Pritchard say if he knew Flynn was still alive?

"These things are to be expected," Robin said, drawing my attention away from the recesses it had descended. My gaze shifted back to his in time to see the smile return. "He told me something fascinating, though. This is the news I wanted to share."

"The dead coming back to life is not momentous enough?" I asked with a chuckle.

"Momentous, yes, but while some things were restored, others never left in the first place."

Bringing the cigarette to my mouth, I drew deeply from it and waited for Robin to continue. He lowered his leg, foot resting on the ground again, and leaned forward in his seat. "They're alive, dear brother. Our immortal siblings are still in Philadelphia."

My eyes widened, the hand holding my cigarette lowering to rest on the arm of the chair. "Heavens," I murmured. "I admit, I have not spared a thought toward them in so many years."

"I know." He laughed, running his hand across his scalp as though a few strands of hair had come loose from his ponytail which needed to be smoothed back into place. "But there they were. Louis and Charles have been looking after them. Rebecka, Joan, Vincent, and the others; all of them have not scattered in all these years, save but for a soul or two."

"And they were living with Matthew?"

"Heavens, no." He laughed. "Can you imagine the children of Sabrina under the same roof as the children of Matthew? No, Matthew relocated to Trenton a few years ago. The area covens have finally mended enough for them to establish a regional presence again, so they determined Matthew should assume the mantle as their leader once more."

I nodded, then perked an eyebrow. "Where are the others living then, if not with Matthew?"

Robin drew a deep breath inward. Holding it only to exhale it slowly, I watched his mirth surrender to a solemn sobriety. He looked away and remained lost in his thoughts until finally glancing back at me. "They were living in the same building we had occupied. Hiding in the dark, with no electricity and none of the comforts the coven had boasted of before. Sabrina and I were the only ones listed as able to touch the coven's assets, so they managed along as best as they could. Fortunately, Louis was never removed from the building's title, or they wouldn't have even had that left."

My expression sank to match my brother's. "Had we known…"

"… We could have turned the assets over to Louis at the very least, yes, but I don't think that'll be good enough." Robin rose to his feet. He paced behind the chair and touched the back with both hands, his gaze turning more deliberate. "They need better leadership. Louis is not even half a century, and he's the eldest amongst the ones remaining."

I nodded in agreement. "Yes, I believe you are correct. Will they submit to anyone's oversight, however?"

"Yes and no. I asked Louis and Charles the same question and while Charles has no grievance against Matthew, Louis still remains skeptical despite everything that happened. I got the sense it's been his determination not to seek outside help with the coven."

"If not Matthew or one of his children, then who?"

A smile blossomed on Robin's face again, taking on a conspiratorial tone. A hint of wonder danced in his eyes, and suddenly I understood why he had dragged me into the room with such a spirit of whimsy. "Matthew asked if I would take control of the coven. And I have asked if you could be my second."

I swallowed past a lump forming in my throat, at once feeling a swarm of butterflies take flight inside my stomach. While Robin refused to look away, I found myself nearly shaken, jumping when the ash which had accumulated on my cigarette fell onto my fingers. I snuffed out the cigarette and brushed the remnant from my linen jacket, but even these motions were meant merely to stall. Robin continued to wait while I cleared my throat. "And how did Matthew feel about that?" I managed.

Robin did not respond right away. I looked up at him when the silence became conspicuous and saw him hesitate. "He… might not have shared my enthusiasm."

My eyebrow arched. "And this surprises you?"

He shrugged. "I suppose I am so used to not seeing you as Flynn any longer. Matthew hasn't had that luxury." He smiled softly at me. "You have come a long way. Please don't let his doubt dissuade you. Ophelia tells me you've come along very nicely and that she'd give her seal of approval should you require a recommendation."

"Very kind of her." The smoke lingering in the room settled on me like a shroud, feeling like it could choke the life out of a creature that no longer needed to breathe. I sensed the walls closing in and might have slumped in my chair if it would not have given me away. As it was, I needed to hyperventilate, but could not; needed to run, but had no place to go. This is what I had been training to do for seven years, yet the Fates appeared to be playing the cruelest of tricks on me. Forcing me back to the place where I had been the most infamous.

"Why are you so nervous?"

I huffed and reached for my cigarette case again. "Should that not be obvious?"

Robin frowned when I looked at him again. "Calm yourself, Peter. It isn't as though Flynn is still an issue. All he needs is time to see how much you've changed."

I winced inwardly. 'It isn't as though Flynn is still an issue.' The statement itself felt like it had the ability to summon him; Flynn's consciousness turned itself like the Eye of Sauron focused on the ring of power. My gaze remained fixed on Robin, and I struggled to say the words, but could not will them to come. He needed to know my alter ego had not slipped into the shadows after Monica's death.

Truth be told, he had haunted me ever since.

But Flynn snatched the confession before it could be made manifest. In my hesitation, Robin smiled and walked over, crouching before me and placing a hand on my shoulder. "You're the one I trust, dear brother," he said. His expression turned calm; reassuring. He squeezed my shoulder once in an affectionate manner. "We've seen hell together and walked to the other side of perdition. Could you stand beside me once again?"

"You once asked something similar of me," I said, speaking on automatic. My speech felt coerced, as though another entity held my vocal cords hostage. I furrowed my brow. "Do you truly want to take another chance on me?"

His smile faltered, but quickly recovered. "It isn't taking a chance. What's past is past and left far behind the both of us." The wrinkle in his demeanor smoothed itself as though it had never occurred. "I know you'll stand up to whatever questions they might have for you; you're Peter the seer. Peter the vampire. Flynn the assassin died back in Philadelphia."

Whatever hold Flynn has established relented, freeing me to use my own voice again. The damage had been done, however. I nodded, smiling in an agreeable fashion. "Then I agree to speak with Matthew and assuage any doubts he might have."

Robin patted me once before standing straight again. My grin fought to depart, but I held onto it as though it was the last piece of floating wreckage from a sunken ship. "I will inform Matthew and Ophelia," he said, and I failed to stop him as he walked to the doors. I failed to react at all until my brother had disappeared around another corner.

That was when my hands started to shake. I lit another cigarette and poured a glass near to the brim with Irish whiskey. By the time I settled in to rest, I had the company of another vampiress and the comfort of her body curled around mine. Blowing smoke rings in the dark, I stared up at the ceiling and wondered if I could keep my alter ego in check where he had been the most notorious. Granted, I had kept him on a tight leash to that point and would continue to for seven years following.

That all changed when Celine came along.

"Sir?"

The female voice snapped me from the clutches of memory, bringing me back to the airplane and the bed I had made for myself in the present. A flight attendant leaned as close as she could without suffocating the elderly woman and painted a plastic smile on her face for my benefit. "We're going to be landing soon," she said. "Would you please finish your drink and move your tray table to an upright position?"

'Mmm… I do enjoy when they mention positions.'

'Be quiet, Flynn.'

"Very well, Miss." Taking the drink in hand, I tipped the remainder of the contents down my throat and passed the emptied glass to the flight attendant. The phony grin held firm until she turned away, then melted into the tired expression of someone who had been tried past their threshold. I felt immediate sympathy for the woman, musing on how many lengths of rope had encompassed my fuse since Flynn and I started switching. He might have reserved his casual takeovers to slips of the tongue, but when I started dating again, the blackouts gained in frequency. What had been a manageable inconvenience escalated into an ever-present fear.

I never knew where I would find myself each time I regained consciousness.

Sighing, I glanced toward the porthole window again. The lights of San Francisco shone like a thousand florescent diamonds in a sea of inky black. The snoring man startled awake as the pilot announced our descent, and as I slipped my book and pen into my briefcase, I indulged in a steadying breath, reminding myself I had a façade I needed to maintain. Despite the reasons why I had been assigned this task, I had a mission to accomplish.

For the first time, the thought was a welcomed comfort. Heaven knew I needed a distraction.