Houston resembled a winter wonderland as snow blanketed the dark city. CMC squads ramped up forces and attempted to maintain control over the throngs of club-goers congesting the sidewalks and streets. The atmosphere took a turn for the worse after the city went black. Low levels of panic surfaced when word spread like a schoolhouse sneeze that no one’s cell phone worked. The remaining patrons of The Blue Star, clinging to high hopes that the show would somehow go on, were forced to leave and escorted out of the club. With Crisis Management in full effect, a mandatory curfew issued for both minors and adults prohibited civilians from leaving their houses, day or night, without a permission permit. Disappointed Limbo Diver fans found themselves in sudden violation of the curfew, but CMC officers followed protocol, their instructions simple–round up, force out, and maintain order by any means possible. Decked out in riot gear and packing an arsenal of tear gas, automatic weapons, tasers and batons, the Civilian Military Officers raided every public building and establishment. Parading around the streets invoking fear in an already fearful people, CMC’s enjoyed a privileged existence, exempt from most laws, including food and water restrictions. An ever-growing outfit created by the Council of Six, the CMC provided a lucrative job opportunity for anyone caught in the unemployment line with officers in abundance throughout the six regions.

In north Houston at the Holland’s residence, Allison and Justin huddled by the fireplace and tried to find perspective into the ordeal. They broke out their survival supplies and switched on the short wave radio, but every frequency they tried (AM and FM) produced nothing but static. Justin, of course, was a prepared man, and after brewing up some cowboy coffee on the fire, he and Allison prepped the house for an emergency situation. They filled the bathtub with water, started up the solar generator, loaded their shotgun and took careful stock of their canned and non-perishable goods. Although hoarding food, water and ammunition could cost thousands in fines and even prison time, Justin never grew accustomed to the new law of the land.

“We need to bring the rest of the wood up to the porch,” he said, adding a new log to the fire. “It’s getting wet out there in the snow. Man, that was one hell of a lightshow! You remember what Paige said this morning about the strange lights she saw? Guess it was an aurora borealis. You know, honey, a major solar flare like this could knock out satellites, power grid too, looks like. Back in the 1800s, a solar flare produced auroras as far south as Hawaii. Damn thing set telegraphs on fire.” Allison pretended to listen to her husband’s chatter, but she was frantic to talk to her daughter and furious at him for letting Paige leave. Justin put his full faith in his old friend, Professor Faraday, believing 100% that Paige would arrive home safely.

Backstage at The Blue Star, the professor cleaned off the coffee table and tossed the kamikaze bat into a trashcan by the wall. Abbey and Paige stood in place watching him bustle around the room blowing out candles, picking up glass and ridding ashtrays of marijuana butts. He opened the sliding glass door to fetch an abandoned flashlight, and a blare of emergency sirens filtered through the room. A collective murmur buzzed from the streets below as a symphony of broken words, honking horns and random screams invaded the air. Confusion settled in like sea fog and Paige couldn’t tell whether the shrieks and screams were inspired by panic and fear or if alcohol motivated the outbursts. She felt like screaming herself.

“Professor Faraday, won’t the bat start to smell after a while, I mean, what did you mean by, it was never alive?”

“It’s spy technology,” the professor replied. “It won’t decompose, it’ll only rust.”

“Who’s spying on us?”

“Council of Six, they spy on everyone.” The professor pulled the blinds closed and explained that the mechanical minions of mayhem were everywhere, but suffered a short lifespan. “A small victory in a greater war,” he commented. Paige reached into the trash can and poked the robotic bat, disturbed by its rubbery texture, she quickly yanked her finger away.

“Professor, what did you mean by, we’ve been down this road before?”

Turning his back, the professor held up his hand and advised Paige to put her questions on hold. He scanned the room and glanced at the ceiling, mumbling to himself about what they were going to do. Blowing out the last candle, he clicked on his flashlight and handed the one from the balcony to Abbey.

“We should go ahead and move camp into the other room,” he said, “before we get dive-bombed again.”

Paige stood beside Abbey and smiled as he fumbled with the flashlight, flipping it upside down and hitting it with the palm of his hand before swearing under his breath and chunking it onto the couch. Attempting to tame his out of control hair, he turned to Paige and told her he’d slipped a green ski hat into her purse while they were in the attic. She fished it out and handed it to him, recognizing the old faded hat from the trunk. Fearful that the page she’d torn from the spiral had fallen out, she dug through her purse until her fingers brushed against the frayed ends of the paper putting her fear to rest. Abbey pulled the hat over his head, and as Paige watched him, she realized that the young man she’d found so attractive was actually her brother. She wondered if Ashley was her father, or at least one of them.

“Professor Faraday,” she said, “I know you said no more questions, but do you think I could have a beer?”

Abbey cheered and clapped his hands. “Yes! Beer would be awesome!”

Professor Faraday turned and looked them over while stroking his beard. Picking up his empty bottle, he tossed it into the trash and shuffled them out of the room.

They crept down the long candlelit hallway that led to the room with the red barricaded doors—the place where Paige met the cane-wielding stranger. Her stomach convulsed when she thought about the incident, and although she’d refrained from telling Michael about her encounter, she suspected he was well-acquainted with the southern-fried stranger. She suspected she was related to the devil with the gold pocket watch. The professor scanned the area and Paige followed the flashlight’s beam searching for shadow dwellers, but without even a bartender left to mix a drink, they ventured deeper into the bar. An antique oil-lamp illuminated two figures seated in the back. One sat sideways with their feet stretched out across the other one’s lap, and as Paige drew closer, she noticed the one sitting sideways fashioned a pair of green army boots. She and Abbey plopped down on a red leather loveseat and Professor Faraday made a beeline for the bar, returning with three beers in hand. She thanked him for the beverage and knocked bottles together with Abbey before chugging it down. The professor pulled up a barstool, shook his head smiling and chugged his own drink.

“Thirsty?” Michael asked.

“We are,” the professor answered, setting his drink down. “Who knew Pandora’s Box could leave you so parched. Thank you, Michael.”

“Lay off him,” Ashley said. “He did what none of us wanted to do.”

Michael looked to Ashley with a warm smile and then turned to the professor, pouting his lips and folding his arms, he embodied the final words of a child’s argument—so there. The two friends enjoyed a toast while Professor Faraday frowned and stroked his beard.

“The only thing you did was scare her,” he said.

Michael dropped his jaw and widened his eyes before relaxing his face again to speak. “Look, this is stupid, let’s all be friends again, okay?”

The professor rolled his eyes, flashed a reluctant grin and drank his beer.

“You did scare me,” Paige remarked. Abbey laughed and knocked drinks with her again but Ashley glared at his son and slammed his glass down on the table.

“Where’d you get that hat?” he asked.

Abbey muted his smile. “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean. I told you to stay out of that trunk!”

Paige dropped her head while Michael stepped in and attempted to calm his friend’s sudden rage. Abbey nudged her shoulder and she heard his voice speak inside her head, don’t feel bad, I broke the lock off that trunk two months ago. He hasn’t been the same since. She gawked at him and slowly shook her head, horrified when he tore off the hat and chunked it at his dad. Bad idea, she thought. I know, he answered.

Yanking the hat off the floor, Ashley squeezed it in his hand and held it up to Abbey’s face, “If you refuse to show respect, you don’t get to wear his clothes. Understand?”

Abbey nodded.

“Good.” Sitting back down, Ashley clenched his hands under his chin and stared at his half empty drink on the table. Michael sighed and glared at Abbey through scornful eyes.

“It’s just a damn hat,” Abbey said under his breath.

Ashley winced at the sound of his son’s voice, and again, after downing his drink. Wiping his mouth, he slid the glass onto the table and pulled out a cigarette. “When are we leaving?” he asked.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” Michael answered.

“You guys can’t be serious,” the professor said, “with the snow and the blackout, we’ll have to postpone.”

“No way,” Michael said, “I can’t wait any longer.”

Paige relaxed into the couch and used her sleeves to grip the cold bottle she held in her lap. She listened while they argued back and forth, twirling her hair around her finger and sipping her beer, she observed the familiar strangers—their mannerisms, their reactions, their expressions, she soaked them up and penciled in her lines. The dots appeared like clusters of stars through patches of clouds, but Paige struggled to make the connections. She thought about running, but didn’t. She thought about demanding answers, but couldn’t. I’m being deceived, she thought, just like Michael said, but it was like the thief telling the victim they’re being robbed, she didn’t understand, or maybe she didn’t want to. She feared the truth. She feared the deceivers and the thieves, and who they’d turn out to be.

“Billy, they’re bleeding,” Michael said, holding up his wrists. “I’m out of time, man. I’m going with or without you.”

Paige stared at Michael’s newly bandaged wrists and considered the story of Frankenstein, a reanimated corpse sewn up, covered in scars and angry with his maker, she thought she understood what Michael had tried to tell her. She needed to know for sure.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“No way,” the professor said, “there’s absolutely no reason for you to–”

“We’re going to New Orleans,” Michael said. “Would you like to come along?”

“I would,” she said, “but I don’t know if I trust you. You really did scare me.”

“I apologize for that,” he said. “It wasn’t my intention to scare you, more of a side-effect really.”

 “A side-effect of what?” she asked. “Telepathy? The fact that none of you age? The pink elephant that I still can’t see?”

Michael flinched back into the couch and scanned the room. “Where?” he asked.

Paige brushed hair out of her face and leaned in closer. “I want to know what’s going on, Michael. How am I being deceived?” Professor Faraday finished off his beer and held up his hand to say something, but Michael answered first.

“It’s okay, Billy, I’ve got this. I hereby elect myself spokesdude, you obviously suck at it. Look here, Paige,” he said, placing a cigarette in his mouth. He searched the coffee table, patted down his pants and finally nudged Ashley while pointing at his mouth. “Look here, Paige,” he said again as Ashley lit his cigarette, “you’re related to everyone in this room, and that’s all you need to know. Forget about birthparents, it doesn’t matter, you know who your parents are, they raised you, and it just so happens, they’re also the one’s deceiving you.”

Paige shivered and set her drink down. “How are they deceiving me?” she asked, her breath dissolving into the air.

“Besides lying about your adoption?” he asked. “They’re holding you hostage. You’re a prisoner and you don’t even know it.” His words rang like confirmation bells. Michael was wrong, she did know it.

Paige had been sick during the holidays. The end of October left her bed-ridden for the next four weeks, but even after she recovered, the great outdoors remained off limits, her parents fearing she might relapse. Attending her first day of college had been a small miracle. She resented them for being the typically overbearing and controlling parents, but they sent mixed signals, for if they weren’t forcing her to stay, they were forcing her to leave. Home-schooled until she turned thirteen, Paige was then sent off to an out-of-state, all-girl boarding school. After graduation, she returned home to care for her ailing father. She loved and resented them, they wanted her to stay, they wanted her to go, but they lied, and that’s the nagging feeling she couldn’t shake, they lied about her adoption.

“I know my parents can be overly protective,” she said, “but how do you know about them?”

Michael laughed and waved smoke out of his eyes. “How do I know about them?” he asked. “I know them quite well, Paige, we all do. In fact, we tried to come see you during the holidays but Allison wouldn’t let us through the door. And no offense, but Justin’s lack of a backbone makes him a walking miracle.”

Paige narrowed her eyes, “Maybe they have good reason for keeping me from you,” she said.

“Oh, they do, but you deserve to know the truth.”

“Is my life in danger?” she asked.

“Everyone’s is,” he answered. “You coming to New Orleans or not?”

She scrutinized Michael’s face through the dim glow of the oil lamp. A faint yellow light illuminated his body and she heard a voice tell her, say no.

“Stay out of this, Abbey,” Michael said.

“What happens in New Orleans,” she asked, “because it sounds like you want me to go.”

“I want you to do what feels right,” he answered. “We’re going to Nawlins to settle unfinished business. A family reunion of sorts. You’re invited.”

“Is this a test?” she asked. “You said earlier I was being tested, what am I being tested for?”

“You already passed the test,” he said, glancing at the professor, “and I was testing to see if you really are who you appear to be.”

“Who do I appear to be?” she asked, glancing at the professor.

“Well, you appear to be Paige, but we had to make sure,” he answered.

The professor stood from his stool and warned them to be mindful of what they said, specifically targeting Michael with his disapproving glare.

“I still don’t understand,” she said. “I just, I don’t understand.”

Professor Faraday returned from the bar and patted her on the back, assuring her not to worry, that everything would be okay but she didn’t need to go to New Orleans. Paige smiled and nodded. She watched him take a long drink from his fresh beer, his blonde hair falling across his shoulders before he brushed it behind his ears. Professor Faraday, much like her parents, seemed to shield her from dangerous unknowns that Michael was willing to expose. The Pied-Piper had his bait, if that’s what she was, and though part of her feared for her life, it wasn’t enough to send her running. She decided to bring up the man with the gold pocket watch, describing his appearance as a dark-skinned man dressed like a fifties gangster. The black goatee, the walking cane, the gold watch, she eyed Michael after likening his dialect to that of a southern-fried swap dweller.

“He knew about my dizzy spells,” she said, “told me I was lost in the woods. He also talked about auras, I think, said I was all over the map.”

Michael confirmed her suspicions. “Sounds like you met dear ole daddy. You let me worry about him, Paige, unlike me, he really is trying to scare you. If you do come to New Orleans, I give you my word I’ll keep you safe.”

The professor scoffed and shook his head, “No way. Not going to happen.”

“Why don’t we let Paige decide?” Michael said and then smiled, “There’s something you need to see to believe.”

Paige nodded and clutched her purse. She saw them as a tight-knit circle of family and friends, her family, but she stood outside of that bond. Although naturalized by birthrights, she knew she wasn’t one of them, and what they were, she didn’t know. Not normal, that much she gathered. They were beautiful and ageless and outside of her realm of understanding. They were the beautiful people scheming to do something dangerous in New Orleans, something that Michael wanted her to see, but beyond that, she lacked insight, unable to connect all the dots. Her father always told her to follow the money when trying to solve a mystery, and that money trail led straight to Michael’s father, Vincent. She’d rather listen to her dad rattle on about trilobites than face him again, but then, her dream about Gabriel, the dying celebrity, and the disturbing images Michael showcased spoke louder than the cane-wielding devil.

“I’ll go,” she said.

The professor pleaded his case, igniting into a full-blown protest and assuring Paige that New Orleans was the last place she wanted to be. He insisted that Vincent had nothing to do with her, and although she suspected otherwise, Paige listened as he laid out the plan. He proposed they wait until morning to head out, at which time Paige could drive home to her parents (who were probably worried sick). He begged her not to drop his course and then held up his hands, bravely inviting feedback.

“What do you think?” he asked.

Michael rolled his eyes, “Fine, we’ll wait, but if Paige wants to come, she’s coming.”

Abbey nudged her shoulder and his voice penetrated her mind, bad idea, don’t come. Growing weary of hearing voices in her head, she nudged him back and answered, I’m going. The professor’s pale blue eyes watched her with the familiar concern her father’s eyes often displayed—a look that inspired defiance on her part.

“I won’t drop your course, Professor,” she said, “but I expect all A’s this semester.” Professor Faraday smiled and slumped his shoulders, successful on one front and a failure on the other. Paige knew she should listen to him. All signs of logic raised the red flag, but like the overly-confident swimmer, she ignored the warning bells and shrugged off the broken surfboards lining the shore. She was going, she no longer had a choice, something about that green army coat, and Michael’s wrists, and that strange fiddle player standing under a tree ornamented with dead bodies. She asked what would happen at the upcoming family reunion.

“Not real sure,” Michael said, stretching out his legs across Ashley’s lap, “but I won’t lie, it won’t be pretty.”

“Will my life be in danger?” she asked, posing the question for a second time.

“Yes.”

Sirens howled through the dark city and faded off into background noise leaving behind unnatural silence in their wake. Paige wasn’t surprised by Michael’s answer but found herself more concerned about her parents. She imagined them sitting in the dark house arguing with each other, worried to death about her safety. She knew her father would risk his life driving through the snow if she wasn’t home soon. With the power grid down and the satellites disabled, she wondered if a telepathic message could put their minds at ease. Michael grinned when she asked the question aloud and reminded her that anything they could do, she could do. Paige had serious doubts.

“I’m the best of course,” Michael said, elbowing Ashley for a lighter, “but we’re all capable of telepathy, yourself included.” Ashley handed over his flame and asked about the one he’d just bought a couple of hours ago. Michael shrugged and said he lost it. Ashley called him flighty. Michael snorted and called him a stick-in-the-mud. Paige waited, observing the two friends as they shuffled back and forth and slipped between realms. They occupied a shared plateau where intruders were likely to be shot on-site. She envied their close relationship.

“I’ll let your parents know you’re staying here tonight,” Michael said, “and as far as your life being in danger, I expect everyone in this room to return home safely, but if we don’t confront the inevitable, we’ll lose the upper-hand.”

“What’s the inevitable?” she asked.

“The devil wants to make a deal, Paige, and we have to deceive the Great Deceiver.”