The eight installment of Out of the Shadows.

Sally practically skipped into the coffee shop three hours before her usual coffee run. She went straight for Felicity. “What are you doing this Saturday?” Sally asked her.

“I was going to fix my TV.” Felicity answered, eyeing the younger woman. “Now I’m guessing I am doing something with you instead.”

“Bingo!” Sally produced a ticket and scrap of paper with a flourish. “You’re coming to Senator Winston’s fundraiser with me.”

“I really don’t think-” Felicity began.

“It’s black tie, pick me up at four.” Sally pointed at the address on the paper. “Come early if you don’t have anything nice to wear.” Sally beamed at Felicity so brightly that the former assassin was temporarily blinded. “Don’t be late!” Sally turned and hurried from the café. Felicity was temporarily stunned. She looked at Teddy and Sasha who had watched the whole thing with amusement.

“What just happened?” Felicity had undergone interrogations that she felt more in control of than that conversation.

Teddy chuckled. “You, my friend, have just been shanghaied into the dreaded ‘plus one’ work function.”

“How?” Felicity asked, bewildered. When exactly had she lost her edge so completely that she could be ambushed by a college intern?

“She cut you off before you could say no.” Sasha grinned.

“But I didn’t say yes!” Felicity protested.

“True,” Sasha agreed. “But how will she feel if you don’t show up?” Felicity stared at her. Then, to Teddy’s surprise, Felicity swore. She had been well and truly cornered. Felicity grabbed the ticket and the address and stalked into the backroom. She had no idea where she was going to find an appropriate dress before Saturday.
Sasha watched her go. “I ship it.” She stated.

“What?!” Teddy yelped, dropping the mug he’d been drying off. “Sasha, you can’t ship real people!” He hissed with a panicked look where Felicity had disappeared.

“Too bad.” Sasha had the sort of grin on her face that he associated with her fanfiction consumption. “I ship it. Salicity forever.” Teddy suppressed a groan. He knew that she’d been disappointed with their utter failure setting Felicity up on speed dates, but this was ridiculous.

He opened his mouth to dissuade the fangirl, only to close it when Felicity walked back in the café. She was still muddled enough that she didn’t notice the new way that Sasha was looking at her. Teddy’s mind scrambled for ways to keep Sasha away from Felicity (and Sally), while he swept up the mess. How could he protect someone from a shipper? Teddy groaned. They were all doomed.

Two part post because I can't let a title like "Novel thoughts" go to waste without a couple of interesting thoughts but this is relevant!

Part 1 - The Main Point
I've been thinking about writing a novel a lot. You've seen many of my short stories. I've been wanting to work on a novel for a long time now. I have plans for five or six novels. SciFi, Fantasy, SciFantasy. I've got them all. But I'm having trouble picking. Plus, I do have other things I'm working on such as Sword & Scepter Saga.

One idea I was playing with was just making Princess' Path into a novel. Thoughts?

I have so many novel ideas. But I'm worried it will cut back on the blog stories... And picking which one to write is really difficult! I should probably just set time aside for the novel work.

Part 2 - The Title
Random quotes of the day that I have posted... A lot of these are just things I've thought or said.
Quote of the Day: "I know the criminal mind. I should. I've got one myself."
Quote of the Day: "I'm not mad. Eccentric, certainly, but not mad."
Quote of the Day: "The assassin is vegan?"
Quote of the Day: "Deader than a corpse during the zombie apocalypse."
Quote of the Day: "You're not a terrible person, you just have terrible taste sometimes."
Quote of the Day: "Cross my heart... and my fingers."
Quote of the Day: "I feel absurd. I don't like feeling absurd."
Quote of the Day: “That guy’s more paranoid than a schizo on the run from the FBI...”
Quote of the Day: "Oh! Kay... So much hugging... Why is there so much hugging?"
Quote of the Day: "Context changes everything."
Thought of the Day: If you think enemies are better than friends, you have some serious problems.

Follow me on twitter for more thoughts and quotes of the Day!


Bonus!
Exchange of the Day:
Roommate: "So what are you going to be for Halloween?"
Me: "Oh, I have three costumes."
Roommate: "Of course you do."

A new Out of the Shadows...


Felicity had a bad habit of underestimating civilians. It was perfectly reasonable. they didn't have her skills. They didn't know how to kill, cheat, or steal. So, she had assumed they also didn't know how to manipulate, trick, and lie as convincingly as a politician covering his butt. It had never been so humiliating to be proven wrong.

Felicity gaped at the banner hanging over the bar that read "Film-ophile Speed Dating". She spun on Teddy. "You said this was a Cinema Critic activity Sasha couldn't attend!" She snarled accusingly.

"It is... sorta." Teddy smirked. "She organized it, so she can't participate." Similar mischievous grins were on the faces of the rest of the Critics.

"You're all in on this, aren't you?" Felicity demanded, grabbing the ends of her hair and pulling it taunt. Joan letting us go early. Me missing lunch so I'll accept a free dinner. Even Sally canceling the movies with me because of work!"

"No, actually Sally made plans with you to keep us from doing this." Teddy frowned. "We had to ask General Morris to get Senator Winston to keep her late." Felicity made a mental note to buy Sally a fruit basket, or a card, or whatever you got friends who protected you from speed dating.

"I'm leaving." Felicity turned on her heel to stomp out. She found herself immediately glomped by five Cinema Critics while she valiantly suppressed her instincts to kill them all.

"Don't go!" Valerie cried, clinging to her arm.

"It's for your own good!" Taylor added, his arms awkwardly around Valerie to get a hold on her.
 
"We aren't letting you leave." Teddy's grip tightened around her neck, in a strange combination of a chokehold and a backwards hug. Felicity considered her options. She could escape. She could probably even do it without hurting anyone... But Teddy would find her at work. They all could find her at work, and it seemed that Joan was involved too, which meant that she could send her straight into a trap disguised as an errand (which was a horrible abuse of power, but she was the owner so who was going to stop her?). Her best course of action was probably to just go alone with it and hope they lost interest once they'd been appeased.

"You are all terrible people." Felicity stated in as dry a voice as possible. The Critics collectively released a half cheer, half sigh of relief. They pulled away, but remained close enough to be able to grab her if she made a break for it.

"We might be terrible people, but we're awesome friends." Teddy informed her with brotherly sadism as he dragged her to a table by the neck using one arm. Felicity was sure it looked like a friend guiding a reluctant buddy instead of the calculated kidnapping it was.

"No, you're terrible." Felicity reiterated flatly. Her words had no affect on the Critics, who beamed at her between their own conversations. Felicity was beginning to feel like the club's unofficial mascot. Sasha's eyes positively lit up when she saw Felicity.

"You got her!" She squealed. She seized both of Felicity's hands and practically bounced in place before she pulled the resistant Felicity to the center of the room.

"You're going to be right here." Sasha declared, sitting her down at a two person table. Lori and Cat sat at the tables on either side of her, presumable to box her in. How cute, they were trying to trap her. She'd never thought people she wanted to kill were adorable before. Sasha was beaming at her widely. Felicity shifted slightly.

The tables around them began to fill. Felicity order a bourbon, neat. Sasha began her role as a bubbly hostess. "Welcome everyone! You've all filled out the personality flyers!" Across the room Teddy waved a piece of paper he must have filled out for her. She glowered at him. "So while we rate those, begin! Remember, opening questions must be related to movies!"

And so the torture commenced.
 

Date 1: Awful
Felicity thought this man was a few years too old to be at college speed dating. And what kind of guy said their favorite genre was RomCom? A guy trying to get laid. Pass!
 
Date 2: Awkward
Felicity was pretty sure he was intimidated by her. They pretty much sat in silence until Sasha came by and tried to encourage conversation between them by asking questions. All she got was one word answers from either side.
 
Date 3: Pretentious
He said his favorite movie was Citizen Kane.
 
Date 4: Actually kinda fun... in a purely platonic, little brother, way
They talked about scifi and thrillers, and moved on to why they were there. He'd been dragged by his friends because they thought he needed to get over his recent break up. Felicity reminded him of his older sister. She eagerly suggested they use each other to escape the dating by pretending they were going to go out... Unfortunately Lori had a particularly boring date and was evesdropping. She signaled Shasha and the bell rang forty-five seconds early. The little brother figure was dragged away and immediately replaced with...

Date 5: Annoying.
Felicity was sulking about losing her new little brother figure, and this new guy kept trying to talk to her.
 
Date 6: Weird
Opened with "Heaven must be missing an angel." Ended with "It seems you've lost your number, don't worry, you can have mine."
 
Date 7: The Worst
He kept getting her her personal space. He grabbed her hand, she pulled it away. He nudged her foot, she tucked her feet behind the legs of her chair. She started mentally counting all of the ways she could kill him. She was at fourteen, and ready to execute number four if the hand inching towards her thigh made contact, when Sasha "accidentally" whacked him in the head with her clipboard while she was walking by.
 
Date 8: Teddy
Felicity glared at him. Teddy shifted uncomfortably. After a full minute of strained silence Teddy broke.
"Say something." He begged.
"I hate you." Felicity said flatly. Teddy laughed, there was only the slightest note of unease, so Felicity continued. "I want to kill you, but I keep reminding myself I'll regret it if I actually do." She paused. "I'm not sure why I'll regret it, but I'm sure I will."
"You'd miss my homemade chili?" Teddy suggested lightly, clearly unaware of the danger he was actually in. Felicity's glare sharpened.
"Teddy, I have had more enjoyable dates in a detainment facility." Felicity said in a rare moment of honesty. Teddy finally met her eyes and actually flinched, suddenly he was a lot less confident than he had been. "If chili is the only thing saving you. You are in serious danger." Teddy swallowed. Felicity's stare didn't waver.
"I'll track down that Korean film you've been dying to see." He offered. Felicity didn't move. It was unnerving. "I'll give you a new fedora." Teddy had no idea why he was so terrified. This was Felicity. Sure, she was secretive, tough, and vaguely intimidating, but she wouldn't actually hurt anyone. Felicity's hand twitched and Teddy flinched. "I'll get you into that movie shoot Sally was talking about!" Teddy suggested desperately.
Felicity blinked. "Really?" Teddy seized on the interest in her voice.
"Yes!" It would take some doing, and he'd end up owing a few favors, but if he put Felicity in a better mood, maybe this irrational fear would go away. That would be more than worth it.
"Sally too?" Felicity asked suspiciously.
"Yes!" Teddy nodded fervently. Felicity considered it.
"Fine." Teddy sighed as the bell rang. "And Teddy," Felicity added before he got up. "I'll still be taking that movie and hat." Teddy groaned.
The rest of the (awful) dates passed rather quickly. At least one good thing came out of this. Sally was going to be overjoyed.

A new installment of inFINite... Fin was introduced in The Accidental Immortal...

One of the most annoying questions that Fin got asked as an immortal was "How old are you?" The moment that someone found out what he was, that was the question they asked. Putting aside for the moment that planets measured time differently (making the conversion a huge headache), Fin started to lose count during the fifth or sixth century. Sometimes he made up an exact year. Sometimes he gave the best estimation that he could. Mostly he just said, with a tired face and exhausted voice "Too old..." 

Even if they were trying to guess at what historical events he might have seen, chances were he was on a different planet when they occured, so it didn't matter how old he was. There was no purpose to the question. He wished they would stop asking him. But he knew that they never would. They would always ask him. They always wanted to know, even though he himself didn't remember. Fin couldn't answer them. The question only served to remind him that there was no end in sight. 

And now, his secret was out once more. It didn't matter how they found out, it had also happened more times than the immortal could count in his endless life. He sighed, and closed his eyes, waiting for them to ask. The youngest man opened his mouth and Fin tried not to feel his age. But before he could say the words, the old woman, Miria, cut him off. 

"Ha! I knew it!" She declared with an air of vindication. "You talk about 'the good old days' more often than I do!" Miria laughed. Fin smiled at her weakly, still waiting for the question. The middle aged woman, Leta, tried to speak, but Miria spoke over her again. She was intent on engaging the (much) older man in conversation about 'young hooligans' who need to 'respect their elders'. Miria was so vigorous, so intense, that no one got a chance to ask him. When Fin excused himself (it had been a long day and he was exhausted), he heard one of them try to ask, only to yelp. Fin glanced down to see Miria's cane planted firmly on the offender's foot. He distinctly heard her mutter "Disrespectful young hooligans..." before she informed them that the elders needed their sleep, and asked Fin to help her to her room. Fin hid a small smile as he escorted the old woman. 

"Thank you." He said quietly. 

​"What for?" Miria snorted, but there was a twinkle in her eye. Even though Fin was eons older he felt that Miria was just as wise as him. Moments like these were humbling. He treasured them. Fin smiled at her. Moments like these made the endless years seem worth living after all. 

Author's Notes: Yes... I know I've been very inactive of late... But in my defense this is only my third day off in four and a half weeks between work and volunteering. I'm very tired... I hope this is decent!

See you again soon!

You see the date? It's leap year! I knew I'd have to do something special for it! But in all honesty, it kind of snuck up on me and So I just read you all Danger of Drowning! It's pretty good, and the start of me reading many more of my stories for listening in the car! Look forward to those!

I've really got to get to work on the podcast element of LynZine. A friend of mine told me that he'd love to hear a podcast where I just critique Greek tragedies (you should hear me go off on Electra! If my dad killed my sister I'd have helped my mom kill him!) but I prefer a more story oriented approach, like the ever fabulous Decoder Ring Theatre (If you haven't heard of it, stop reading and start listening to their podcast!). Still, I might do a few entries on Greek Tragedies and where Clytemnestra and Medea got it wrong. Maybe rant about Jason and Agamemnon a little bit.



In other news, I am trying to read through the legal jargon surrounding the copyright of Raffles the Gentleman thief, because I have an updated audio show version of them I would love to do. Alas, copyright and public domain is confusing to say the least.

I got the music for the intro of this reading from MusOpen.

It's not a bad resource, and makes it pretty clear what it wants from it's users.


Alright everyone! Enjoy your leap year!

There was once an old man who was born with a serious deformity, it made him look like he was always twisted ‘round. The man was viewed as a bad omen by the town and lived just outside of it; far enough for privacy, and too close for the townspeople’s comfort. Fortunately, he had three strong daughters who thought the world of him. These sisters each ad something the village needed. The eldest knew more medicines and poultices than anyone in the known land. With the right ingredients, she could cure practically any malady. The middle sister could find anything she set her mind to, whether it was water during the driest drought or the rarest herbs that grew in the forest. The youngest sister could make anything grow, even in the worst soil. The town knew that if they ever mistreated the twisted man, they would lose favor with the sisters.

Then a terrible series of years struck. First, there was an early frost that killed most of the crops before they could grow. The youngest sister kindly divided her own crops among the townspeople, though no one was full, no one went hungry either. It wasn’t long after that when the town well water was tainted. The middle sister found a new well, it was far from town and hard to reach, but the water was clean and the town could survive. Then the weakened town was struck with plague. The eldest sister worked tirelessly, but because of the sheer number of the stricken she had to dilute the cure. There were very few deaths, but most of the town was left weak as they did not receive enough of the cure.

The town survived because of the sisters, but there were those who believed that the hardships were because of the father in the first place. Three of these men decided that it was best to do away with him before he brought something to the town his daughters could not combat.

The men were making their was to the tree that the twisted man tended to sit beside. On the road they met the eldest daughter. She called out to them. “Gentlemen, I’m on my way to the well to get water for some of my patients. It would be a great help if you could come and carry some.” The men agreed because she’d tended to them while they were ill during the recent plague. Along the way the asked her where she had learned about medicines. “My father.” The woman answered. “He taught me.” The men finished helping her deliver the water and she sent them on their way with a handful of tealeaves that eased pain as thanks. They continued their trek to the tree but the youngest man was having second thoughts. His daughter had very nearly died in the plague. The eldest sister’s medical knowledge was what saved his daughter in the end.

As they walked down the road they saw the second sister stumble out of the brush. She looked up. “Hello there! Do you tree have a moment to help me with something?” They agreed to help because she found the herbs that her sister used to make medicines. She led them to a grove and set them to work harvesting on of the trees, explaining that her sisters needed the components. While they worked she left and returned with an assortment of wild roots and rare herbs that could be used as seasonings for each of them.

“How did you learn how to find these?” They asked her.

“My father showed me.” She answered. “He has sharp eyes, he taught me what to look for.” When they reached the road and parted ways the bundles of food felt heavy in their arms. The man in the middle actually began to lag behind. His daughter had become sick from the town well water and he could not help thinking of what might have happened if the new well had not been found.

As they passed the home that belonged to the twisted man and his daughters they saw the youngest working in the field. They stopped and offered to help. She happily accepted. “Did you learn this from your father?” the oldest man asked.

“I did!” She cheerfully answered. “He could only keep a small garden, but he taught me everything about growing plants.” She sent them away sometime later, each with a small basket of vegetables. Now the oldest was having doubts also. His family had lost their entire stock of food to the frost. Without the youngest sister’s skill with farming his children would have starved.

Finally the men reached the tree. The twisted man was sitting on a stone in the fading twilight while the branches swayed above him. He watched them approach. The three men looked at each other.

“You raised your daughters well.” The oldest man said.

“You taught your daughters everything.” The middle said.

“I taught them what they needed to know.” The twisted man answered softly. “They continued learning from there.”

“Thank you.” The youngest said.

“You’re welcome.” The twisted man replied.

The men took their baskets and went back the way the came. Leaving the twisted man to watch as the first stars appeared and wait for his daughters to come and walk him home.

Seventh installment of Out of the Shadows...

John Howle read the update on the case that had consumed most of his career. He wasn’t supposed to have it. Not since he’d been forced off the taskforce dedicated to dismantling the Pantheon. It wasn’t going to stop him from keeping tabs on their struggle against the powerful organization.

Howle’s intense reading was interrupted by an unpleasant buzz on his office phone. Right, the job he’d been given by people trying to pressure him to retire. He hit the speaker button while stowing the file in the safe on the bottom of his drawer. “Go for Howle.”

“Sir, we have a situation.” McDaniels tensely informed him.

“I’ll be right there.” Howle was out of the room in an instant, ignoring the twinge in his side as he moved. McDaniels was a capable young man, the worry in his voice was concerning.

When Howle arrived less than ten seconds later the large base of security was buzzing with controlled chaos. Hands flew over keyboard, choices spoke in hushed but urgent tones into phones, and the cause of it all was framed on the large screen mounted on the other side of the room. It displayed a large black car and the mug shot of an unpleasant looking white man.

“The car was red flagged. It’s been idling there for ten minutes.” McDaniels began to brief his boss without prompting. He fell into step with Howle who was looking at the screen. “Stolen plates, and facial recognition ID-ed the driver as Erik Koenig, former drag racer, current gun for hire. We’ve notified the police, and-”

“Have them fall back.” Howle ordered. The man on the phone with the police instantly relayed his message. Howle set his jaw. Koenig was the wheelman, not the gunman. The gunman must be behind the tinted windows of the backseat. This was sloppy and Koenig was a local hire. That suggested either limited resources or a local matter. “Inform our men that there is likely an armed gunman, probably more skilled than Koenig.” Howle said, causing someone to begin speaking into a radio. “Is there anyone local who might be considered a target arriving today? Politicians, judges, hell even pastors, is there anyone who stands out?”

“The DA is supposed to be giving an introduction for a visiting dignitary.” Jessica Jane reported, her hands moving across the keyboard faster than Howle could unlock his phone.

“Check to see if the DA has any open cases against Koenig’s previous employers.” McDaniels ordered. Howle frowned. He recognized the street this was on. They were directly across the street from Joan’s Joe, which was frankly the best coffee shop in town.

“This might be a long shot, but someone get on the phone to Joan’s.” Howle commanded. “If the DA is like every other layer I’ve met he’ll like his coffee as black as his soul.” Howle got a few strained laughs out of that. One of the newer members called the coffee shop.

“Sir, the DA is starting proceedings against some drug runners that Koenig has had previous dealings with.” Jessica Jane reported. “And his twitter is following Joan’s Joe.”

“Sir, Joan’s isn’t answering.” The man on the phone reported.

“Not surprising, it’s the morning rush.” Howle muttered, then nodded at McDaniels. “Put our people on standby, they need to be ready to move fast.” His order caused a new flurry of activity. They would stop and listen to him if he gave another order, but for now Howle was able to contemplate his next move. He narrowed his eyes at the screen. There didn’t seem to be a way to end this without shots fired. Not unless they could prevent the target from walking down the street. Howle hesitated, then he took out his cell phone. He had one wildcard in his hand.

“How did you get this number?” The voice on the other end could have been joking, but there was an edge of steel underneath it that Howle felt sure that only he and others like him could hear.

“Sally gave it to me. She’s under the impression we are friends.” Howle stated. “There’s a black car across the street from Joan’s. It’s been idling for a while. There is reason to believe that it is individuals who are targeting the DA.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Felicity, someone who Howle was certain was more than a barista, asked.
“I need you to keep him from leaving.” Howle said, half answering her question and half ignoring it. In all honesty, Howle didn’t know how much he could trust her. She wasn’t looking for information, but she was without a doubt tainted with the shadows that he had spent so much of his life weaving in and out of. Felicity was an enigma, but he thought that if she could help him, she would... or she’d at least consider it.

“I’m not at work yet.” Felicity said. “I’m driving. I shouldn’t even be on the phone right no-” There were various cries of shock around the room as a dilapidated green car sped around the corner and swerved right into the waiting hitmen’s vehicle.  “Oh, you are kidding me!” Felicity snapped through the phone. “Howle, I’ve got to go, I just got in an accident.” Howle could almost hear her tear her seatbelt off. “You are so paying for the repairs.” Felicity hung up on him before he could say another word.

On the screen, the woman stumbled out of the car, all apologies and concern. Koenig tried to brush her off, but Felicity was most insistent. She went back into the car to get her insurance information, motioning for them to wait. The black car drove off. No doubt waiting another day to make their attempt on the DA. Laughter and clapping began to spread through out the room.

“We aren’t done yet.” Howle barked. “Someone tell the police what just happened. See if they can pick them up for fleeing the scene of an accident. Gives them probable cause to search the car.” A now grinning agent began to speak into the phone. “McDaniels, send a team over to Joan’s to escort the DA safely into the building. I’m sure he can make his own security arrangements from here.” McDaniels nodded, stepped away to use his radio. “Jess,” Jessica Jane looked up. “Whatever you hacked to get information on the DA, make sure there’s no trace.” Jessica Jane reddened slightly.

“You say that like I’m not careful.” She muttered. She didn’t like how he called attention to how she got information. Though she had to admit that it was nice that he made it clear just how much she contributed. At least the other agents stopped trying to send her on the coffee run.

Howle glanced up at the screen. Felicity had pulled her car to the side of the road and was inspecting the damage with an air of resignation. He might not know what Felicity had been or what she  was doing now, but he was glad to have the wildcard in his hand. It could be explained away, but it more or less confirm his suspicions about her. She knew that it would and she’d done it anyway. As reluctant as he was to admit it. Sally might be right. He and Felicity were probably friends after all.

He had no idea that she was in a semi-retirement of her own.

The woman who was not Edith Chesterfield sat numbly in the drawing room. She shouldn't be feeling this way. She shouldn’t have cried anything but crocodile tears when they put the old woman in the ground. Muriel Chesterfield should not have meant anything to her. Her death, after the second change of the will, should have made the imposter feel victorious, not made her eyes painfully red and raw from tears of grief.

“Well, well, well, the prodigal niece.” A sneering voice spoke. ‘Edith’ slowly opened still watery eyes to her ‘cousin’ Julia. Julia was older, and only spoke to their great-aunt Muriel when she needed something, usually money. The imposter felt her eyes prickle again. Not in front of Julia! She chided herself, attempting to school her features.

“Julia,” The imposter was ashamed to hear her voice crack. “Here for one last handout?” Julia’s face twisted, then it reset itself in a nasty grin.

“No, I’m here for a bit of a show.” She inclined her head. “The handsome gentlemen will be dragging you away.” The woman looked across the room of relatives in far less mourning than she was to see two police officers step into the room. She suppressed her gasp, returning her gaze to Julia, who was grinning triumphantly. “Did you think I couldn’t tell that you weren’t Edith? I haven’t seen her since we were children but I know that brat wouldn’t have moved in with Muriel because she was ‘lonely’.” The false Edith felt a surge of anger as Julia’s voice went up in a mocking falsetto, an inaccurate mimic of the kind Muriel. She glared at the smug woman.

“It would have been harder for me to get in her good graces if you- people would have just spent some time with her.” She spat, turning her gaze at the photo of the sweet old woman. “She deserved better.”

Julia scoffed. “Says the con artist.” They had drawn the attention of the other relatives who had taken a keen interest in the fact that the favored niece wasn’t a niece at all. They could see their portions of the Chesterfield inheritance growing before their eyes. It made the imposter sick. “It just about broke her heart when she found out that Edith died on some silly excursion on Everest and the girl she’s been living with for the past two years was only after her money.” The false niece tore her swollen eyes from the photograph.

“You told her?” She gaped in horror. Her stomach twisted painfully.

Julia laughed. “Why do you think she changed her will again?” The smirk was firm on Julia’s face. Not-Edith had thought it was to decrease Julia’s portion. She looked back at the photograph. If only she’d had a chance to explain.

“If the police would mind waiting,” The lawyer’s voice cut sharply through the tension. “The will does stipulate that the individual known as ‘Edith Chesterfield’ be present during the reading.”

Julia stepped back, her still triumphant grin stretched from ear to ear. “Alright with me, it will be amusing to see her face.”

So this was it. Police officers waiting to cart her away, while grubby relatives waited to tear apart a sweet old woman’s fortune. The imposter’s lips tightened. She didn’t want to cry. She just wanted Muriel alive.

She could almost smell the Earl Grey tea the old woman drank. No, she could smell it. She became aware of something at her elbow. She looked to her right to find the butler extending a cup towards her. Earl Grey… Why was he giving her that? Surely he had heard Julia’s declaration. She took the teacup and he gave her a comforting smile; reminding her why Muriel was so fond of the man.

The lawyer cleared his throat. The room fell silent. He took a sip from his teacup (he was the only other person in the room to receive tea) and began to read. “I, Muriel Chesterfield, being of sound mind and body, do hereby leave the bulk of my estate, with the exception of the sums and items set aside for the staff… and family, to,” He paused for affect. “Nora Miles.” The imposter, Nora, dropped her teacup. Julia froze and confusion broke out around the room. “As I clearly know who she is,” The lawyer continued reading. “She is not guilty of fraud.” Nora’s trembling hands lifted to her mouth. “Nora, dear,” The lawyer swallowed. “I love you.” Nora began to cry again.

I loved you too…

I just couldn't get the idea of a wealthy spinster leaving all her money to a con artist masquerading as family out of my head. And I had to wonder, how would she have ensured that the will wasn't thrown out or keep the con artist from being arrested? By leaving it to her true identity.

If you're interested, while Nora was crying the butler was holding Julia back and calling the police officers over to help him keep her away from Nora. Then Nora ordered all of the family members out of her house, unless they were specifically mentioned in the will, and they were left some things, but Muriel's staff was left significantly more.

Both the butler and the lawyer really cared about Muriel and were aware that Edith was a fake. They also knew that Muriel was leaving everything to Nora (Muriel only found out Nora's name because of Julia, ironically enough).

16 years ago…
 
The Femme Fatale considered her student. The girl was 10 or 11 years old. Her dark hair and eyes could let her pass for three different ethnicities easily and many more with a little make up. It was something the Femme Fatale envied, as she herself was very clearly of Asian descent. (Not that that had hindered her career too much. It just meant she had to work a little harder in certain situations.) The girl was petite but strong. She had been working for the Femme Fatale for the past 8 months. Together they planted bombs, rescued hostages, and carried out assassinations. Yet, the student had never killed someone in front of her. Yes, she poisoned and bombed, but those deaths happened after the girl had left. The Femme Fatale was slightly concerned. Was this girl even capable of true murder? The Femme Fatale frowned. She wasn’t sure. Given who her student’s mother was and how the girl had been raised, she would think so. But she had yet to see the girl kill, and it was worrying.

“Fille,” The Femme Fatale said, her French clipped and professional. It didn’t matter that they were far from France; the Femme Fatale always spoke in French when she was alone with her student. It was a matter of tradition. “Êtes-vous prêt?” Are you ready?

“Oui, ma’am.” Yes, ma’am. The student answered faithfully. Her French wasn’t as good, but she was improving rapidly under the Femme Fatale’s tutelage. She removed the fancy clip from her hair while her teacher discarded the canvas tube she’d been carrying as a blind. People still thought of blueprints as bulky pages rather than a microchip that could easily be hidden in a girl’s barrette.

They had already scouted out the abandoned apartment building and knew their buyer, but it was better safe than sorry. The Femme Fatale taped a gun under the table. She noticed her student sticking a knife to the wall behind the closet door and wanted to smile. The girl was already picking up on the Femme Fatale’s habits: habits that would keep her alive.

The Femme Fatale glanced around the sparse room. The table was the only piece of furniture, it was heavy wood and as dilapidated as the rest of the apartment building. They both wore heavy gloves in case they needed to use the gutter outside to make a fast exit through the window. “Il est ici.” He’s here. The girl said. She had sharp ears. The Femme Fatale stood at the table facing the door, both of her hands resting on the table’s surface. The second the buyer walked in she went for the gun in her holster. She wasn’t fast enough. A shot rang out. The Femme Fatale hissed as the bullet grazed her shoulder.

“Don’t.” The buyer commanded. The Femme Fatale gave him an unamused look. “Raise your ands, Fatale. You’ve always been an excellent acquisitions specialist and I hope that we can continue to do business after this, but I will shoot you if I have to.”

“You’re trying to rip me off.” The Femme Fatale asked flatly. “You?”

“Step away from the table and raise your hands.” The buyer insisted. The Femme Fatale rolled her eyes, but complied with the request. “You, girl.” The buyer looked at her student. The Femme Fatale felt her hackles rise slightly as he addressed the girl. “Slide me the hairpiece.” The buyer ordered. The girl hesitated, then walked to the table. She reached for the hairclip. The crack that broke the tension of the room nearly made the Femme Fatale duck for cover. Instead, it was the buyer who fell to the ground. His face hadn’t changed except for the red circle above his left eye. The Femme Fatale looked at her student. The gun she had hidden beneath the table was raised at her waist. The Femme Fatale watched as the girl walked around the table and looked down at the man she had just killed. The girl seemed perplexed, if anything. Then she looked up at her mentor. She smiled. The Femme Fatale smiled back.

It seemed her student could handle it after all.