“What message?” Lana asks.
Darrel carries on in the same dull tone as before, “It explained where you should be looking for the stolen talisman…” His voice trails off.
“Where?” Lana and Bertrand ask.
Silence.
Mom folds her arms over her chest and looks away, her expression defeated.
Dad rolls his eyes. “So, then? Where?”
It’s obvious that he doesn’t expect a helpful answer.
There’s a long silence, before Darrel replies, “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
Dad turns to Mom. “This is a waste of time now. Pull him out of it.”
“Pay attention, Darrel!” Mom commands, her voice sharper than before. “You will slowly count to one hundred and then awaken from the trance. When you return to your conscious self, you won’t remember the past hour.”
As Darrel counts, my parents and the Bauds put out the candles, pack everything up, and leave the room.
I pause the recording. Darrel and I stare at each other.
“Will you help me?” he asks again.
I should, shouldn’t I?
Biting my nails, I try to think.“If what you’re saying is true, if they’re really holding you here against your will… then…”
“They won’t go to prison for it, I promise.”
But what if you’re lying? Or what if your buddy Adam decides otherwise?
It’s my parents! I love them. Theyadore me. They took huge personal risks to cover up my crime. They treat me like I’m a perfectly normal young woman, merely introverted and shy. Lana and Bertrand have been equally kind to me. Their son wants to marry me, knowing what I’m capable of, and they’re OK with that.
How can I repay such kindness with ingratitude?How can I live with myself if by helping Darrel I put my family in harm’s way?
“No one will report your parents and their friends to the police,” Darrel says again. “I give you my word.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because I’m the most trustworthy person you’ll ever meet.”
I curl my lips with derision. “Says the man with no digital footprint, no mention, no proof of his existence. A man no one reported missing after a month.”
“Stella—”
I spring to my feet. “You arenotwho you say you are. You arenota UK national. I doubt your real name is Darrel Vlovsky. Who are you?”
There is a brief hesitation in his eyes before he speaks. “I swear to you that my name is Darrel Vlovsky and that I hold an authentic British passport, which I, unfortunately, lost during my fall.”
“Liar!”
I stalk out, mad at him for refusing to tell me the truth. Even more than him, I’m mad at myself for being so confused and uncertain about how to handle this situation. As for my parents, I could strangle them right now.
What the hell are they playing at? The robes, the rituals, the hypnosis? The Ever Mage?For Pete’s sake!
I’ve shared a house with them all my life. How is it possible that I was clueless about this circus?
