for.
She was going to try to rescue Sophia.
No. No! She knew her “Star Wars.” She could
quote Yoda.
There is no try. Do … or do not .
So …
she would going to rescue
Sophia. She would .
Martha brought out the second course, lemony
lentil soup and mixed greens covered in goat cheese and citrus
vinaigrette.
“At all times there are no less than three
Others outside the house, and Amanda is constantly trailed by two
when she leaves on Sundays.” Liam ate as he filled in the Chosen
Ones on the location and number of Others currently assigned to
Amanda and to the mansion itself.
“We’ve seen them,” John said laconically.
“Should we be worried about the constant surveillance? What are
their intentions?”
Amanda watched as Liam ladled more soup into
his bowl, sprinkling toasted pepitas generously on top. “I don’t
believe they care about you individually, per se. The idea, from
what I understand, is simply to keep track of your movements
outside the house.” He glanced up with a smirk. “They’ve had a hell
of a time figuring out what you all do when you’re inside the
mansion.”
“We drink,” Aaron said.
“We laugh,” Samuel said.
“We debauch,” Caleb said.
“We do research, too!” Rosamund looked
indignant.
Everyone stared at her.
“Oh. I see. It’s a joke.” She smiled feebly …
Rosamund had trouble comprehending humor.
“Velvet curtains have their advantages.”
Irving remarked drily.
“Grabbing you one at a time lacks the glory
most of the Others are searching for,” Liam said.
Amanda stiffened in her seat, fork poised
over her salad. Grabbing her and Sophia had seemed pretty glorious
for Eric and his Other cohorts.
Liam continued, “If you were to come out of
the house in a big group, I think you’d have a bigger issue.”
“Which is why I won’t have any of you helping
me with this rescue mission,” Amanda said.
John looked ready to jump in and contradict
her, but Irving held up his hand. “Amanda is right. We cannot let
our affection for her and our sympathy for her sister’s plight get
in the way of our higher calling. We must choose our battles.”
When the muttering had died down around the
table before he offered, Liam said, “Actually, I’ve heard a few of
the Others comment that they’re not sure how you all manage to show
up at locations across town without alerting the spies.”
“I guess we’re doing something right then,”
Samuel mused, thinking about the tunnels Martha had shown them that
they often used to get around the city to escape detection.
Martha emerged from the kitchen and loaded up
the Lazy Susan for the third course: paella. As the smell of
saffron and shellfish filled the room, Charisma made nummy
noises.
McKenna switched everyone’s wine glass to a
fresh, open-bowled Riedel filled with Sangiovese.
Amanda took a sip of the wine and let it
linger on her tongue, savoring a relatively stress-free moment. The
room seemed filled with camaraderie. She felt as if she were part
of the Chosen Ones, and as if Liam was a part, also. But one
thought brought her back to reality. “If there are so many Others
watching us, how will we get around them and into the Sculptor’s
house?”
Liam paused with a scallop halfway to his
mouth. “The short answer is — we don’t.”
Isabelle delicately wiped her mouth on her
napkin and cleared her throat. “I hate to cast aspersions on your
plan here, but doesn’t this portion of it contain a high
possibility of death?”
“Well put.” Genny turned to Amanda. “Won’t
the Others outside just kill you and” — she made the sign for air
quotes — “Irving … when you go outside?”
Amanda could feel her plan falling to pieces
and her composure with it. If they couldn’t work out the kinks in
her admittedly bare bones strategy, Sophia could be left at the
Sculptor’s house until she was killed — or was forced to become
like Liam, a heartless, money-grubbing Other.
Calm down,
She was going to try to rescue Sophia.
No. No! She knew her “Star Wars.” She could
quote Yoda.
There is no try. Do … or do not .
So …
she would going to rescue
Sophia. She would .
Martha brought out the second course, lemony
lentil soup and mixed greens covered in goat cheese and citrus
vinaigrette.
“At all times there are no less than three
Others outside the house, and Amanda is constantly trailed by two
when she leaves on Sundays.” Liam ate as he filled in the Chosen
Ones on the location and number of Others currently assigned to
Amanda and to the mansion itself.
“We’ve seen them,” John said laconically.
“Should we be worried about the constant surveillance? What are
their intentions?”
Amanda watched as Liam ladled more soup into
his bowl, sprinkling toasted pepitas generously on top. “I don’t
believe they care about you individually, per se. The idea, from
what I understand, is simply to keep track of your movements
outside the house.” He glanced up with a smirk. “They’ve had a hell
of a time figuring out what you all do when you’re inside the
mansion.”
“We drink,” Aaron said.
“We laugh,” Samuel said.
“We debauch,” Caleb said.
“We do research, too!” Rosamund looked
indignant.
Everyone stared at her.
“Oh. I see. It’s a joke.” She smiled feebly …
Rosamund had trouble comprehending humor.
“Velvet curtains have their advantages.”
Irving remarked drily.
“Grabbing you one at a time lacks the glory
most of the Others are searching for,” Liam said.
Amanda stiffened in her seat, fork poised
over her salad. Grabbing her and Sophia had seemed pretty glorious
for Eric and his Other cohorts.
Liam continued, “If you were to come out of
the house in a big group, I think you’d have a bigger issue.”
“Which is why I won’t have any of you helping
me with this rescue mission,” Amanda said.
John looked ready to jump in and contradict
her, but Irving held up his hand. “Amanda is right. We cannot let
our affection for her and our sympathy for her sister’s plight get
in the way of our higher calling. We must choose our battles.”
When the muttering had died down around the
table before he offered, Liam said, “Actually, I’ve heard a few of
the Others comment that they’re not sure how you all manage to show
up at locations across town without alerting the spies.”
“I guess we’re doing something right then,”
Samuel mused, thinking about the tunnels Martha had shown them that
they often used to get around the city to escape detection.
Martha emerged from the kitchen and loaded up
the Lazy Susan for the third course: paella. As the smell of
saffron and shellfish filled the room, Charisma made nummy
noises.
McKenna switched everyone’s wine glass to a
fresh, open-bowled Riedel filled with Sangiovese.
Amanda took a sip of the wine and let it
linger on her tongue, savoring a relatively stress-free moment. The
room seemed filled with camaraderie. She felt as if she were part
of the Chosen Ones, and as if Liam was a part, also. But one
thought brought her back to reality. “If there are so many Others
watching us, how will we get around them and into the Sculptor’s
house?”
Liam paused with a scallop halfway to his
mouth. “The short answer is — we don’t.”
Isabelle delicately wiped her mouth on her
napkin and cleared her throat. “I hate to cast aspersions on your
plan here, but doesn’t this portion of it contain a high
possibility of death?”
“Well put.” Genny turned to Amanda. “Won’t
the Others outside just kill you and” — she made the sign for air
quotes — “Irving … when you go outside?”
Amanda could feel her plan falling to pieces
and her composure with it. If they couldn’t work out the kinks in
her admittedly bare bones strategy, Sophia could be left at the
Sculptor’s house until she was killed — or was forced to become
like Liam, a heartless, money-grubbing Other.
Calm down,
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