My apartment is not too far from the family offices, below which the brig is located, but Rhea’s uncharacteristic kindness seems to be holding and rather than march me through the city she calls a cab to transport me to jail which I am immeasurably grateful for given the circumstances.
The cab drops us outside the tour offices and Rhea quickly hops out, dragging my case with her, as I follow her at a much more sedate pace being in no hurry to go to jail and even less of a hurry to put weight on my feet again. To my surprise, Rhea heads for the tour office and not the brig which is a little bit further down the hill.
“We’re going through the office?” I ask, as she unlocks the door and gestures for me to enter.
She rolls her eyes at me. “Delays the scandal this way.”
I snort, for of course it does.
I had barely hobbled two steps into the dimly lit space when a furious screech echoes throughout the room. “COLM WALKER! Really Millie? Have you lost your goddamn mind!”
“Hello to you too mum.”
“Don’t take that tone with me! What were you thinking? Colm Walker! How could you do this? How could you get involved with that – that man!”
Fury simmers through me at her words. I knew when I went home with Colm that it would not be well received by the family – and that was before The Widow’s Ruby was stolen – but her lack of priorities is shocking. Not to mention that I am a grown woman! My family have no right to try and dictate who I date, fuck, or spend time with!
“Calm down mum,” Rhea interjects, before I can open my mouth and rile my mother up even more. Unfortunately, listening has never been my mother’s strong suit, so she continues ranting.
“Calm down? Calm down! You cannot be serious?” My mother points a furious finger at me. “She’s involved with a felon! A Walker no less, and you expect me to calm down?”
I’m curious when Rhea rubs her forehead looking utterly exasperated, with our mother, and not me, for a change. She looks like she’s praying for patience when she chides, “We don’t know that mum.”
Yep, something is definitely wrong with Rhea. She is never nice to me. She is typically the chairman of the ‘let us beat up on Millie’ committee, and she is an epic parental kiss ass, yet this is the second time in twenty-four hours she’s stood somewhat with me. It is unnatural. I suppose if us supernaturals exist, then it is perfectly logical that aliens do too and, in that case, I fear my sister has been swapped out for a pod person. At the very least she has had something knocked loose by thorough probing; there’s really no other explanation for her sudden humanity.
Emery Nicolson is a wife, mother and mad cat-lady living in the South West of England. When she’s not writing, she’s probably reading, baking or out walking through a forest.
Emmy (or Nics, as she’s more often referred to) loves hearing from readers and you can find her online via Twitter (@EmmyNicolson), Facebook (@EmeryNicolsonAuthor) or her website (emerynicolson.co.uk).