Evie
Evie Sage had always known her parenting skills left much to be desired. It was an eternal weakness that she could never overcome. She’d taken on the caregiver role too young, at an age when her biggest problem should’ve been a difficult topic in school or worrying which of her friends was whispering about her behind her back. An age when she should have been climbing trees and making wishes, pretending the world was bright and open and fun.
She grew nostalgic at times for the childhood she’d lost too soon.
But regardless, she’d done her best to keep believing that the world held goodness, and hope, and joy, so that Lyssa might believe it, too. She perhaps leaned a bit too far into her optimism—as a means of survival. Perhaps this wasn’t the parental presence her sister needed? Considering she was now committing arson?
Lyssa’s small, dark-haired head appeared from behind a gap in one of the back walls. “How did you know I was out here?” she asked as she rounded the wall and approached them cautiously. Her brown eyes were wide, her button nose and round cheeks covered in black soot that coated not just her face but her hands as well as the hem of her knee-length dress.
Evie lifted a finger, displaying a purple ribbon that she’d found on the ground. “Lose something?”
Lyssa’s hand shot for the end of her braid as she realized the strip of silk was missing. “Rats! The first rule of villainy: never leave evidence behind.” Evie’s boss smothered a laugh beside her. She gave him an incredulous look, and the laughter died. He was serious when he said, “She’s correct.
Though it is on occasion permitted to leave a calling card.”
Lyssa looked at Trystan with stars in her eyes, nodding like she was cataloging everything he said for later. Good grief.
She pushed at her boss’s shoulder. “Stop giving her tips!”
A bone-aching exhaustion wrapped around her limbs, the expectations and responsibilities draining life from her body. She pleaded with Lyssa. “What the deadlands were you thinking? How did you even do this?” Evie tried to keep her relationship with Lyssa light; she lived in a balance of being her big sister, her friend, and her parent only when needed.
This was a parenting moment.
Lyssa rubbed at the soot on her face, softening Evie’s heart, but before she could move, her boss edged forward, handing Lyssa a black handkerchief from his pocket. Her sister rubbed the sides of her face but missed the soot completely. “Did I get it?”
Evie watched him visibly fight his lips pulling up in a grin, keeping his expression serious, his tone professional.
“You look like a chimney sweep, little villain.” He took the handkerchief from Lyssa’s small hands and lifted it in front of her. “May I?”
Lyssa looked at him shyly, but she warmly nodded. It was a startling thing, watching her boss, whom she’d seen in different states of violence— from torture to arson himself, to breaking bones, breaking hands, hanging heads… She could go on.
But this man was different—or perhaps he was the same, just softer, safer. He rubbed lightly at the soot spots on Lyssa’s cheeks until the black had transferred to the handkerchief and he was standing, tucking it back into his pocket. “There you are,” he said with a heartbreaking grin.
Or rather, heart-mending. Like with that one small act, he’d taken a needle and thread to the two broken pieces of Evie, slowly pulling her back together, slowly making her whole.
She considered the absolute atrocity of kindness he’d just committed in front of her. How was she supposed to stay detached when he did things like that? She wanted him to reassert himself as the big bad in her life, but it was too late. He had already become too dear in her heart—so dear that losing him would eviscerate her. She’d never recover. Her feelings were threatening to swallow her.
Shove them down. That feels healthy.
She shouldered her way past him to stand in front of her sister. “All right, I’ll be the bad guy, then, while you play him like a fiddle.”
Lyssa chuckled into her hand.
The Villain blinked. “What do you mean?”
Evie nodded sympathetically. “You were conned by a ten-year-old.”
He blinked in disbelief before saying in a low, graveled timbre, “No one can know of this.”
Leaving him to his existential crisis, Evie turned her attention back to her sister, crossing her arms. “Lyssa. The fire. How?”
Lyssa looked down, wiggling her toes in her shoes. “I was helping the dragon.”
The Villain cocked his head. “Fluffy?”
Lyssa nodded. “It’s so funny that we call him Fluffy. We had a dog with the same name!”
“I know,” The Villain said darkly.
Evie frowned. “Continue— Ah!” she shouted, gripping her chest when Fluffy himself appeared over Lyssa’s shoulder, his green and purple scales bright. “For such a large animal, he has abnormally quiet footsteps.”
Fluffy’s head angled down and nudged Lyssa’s shoulder. She patted his nose, and he hummed into her hand like a cat.
“Lyssa…” Evie started. “Did you get the dragon to breathe fire?”
Her sister stopped petting Fluffy, who gave a little growl in protest. “Yes, I did! I’m sorry that he burned down the back wall, but since I’ve been here, it’s become very clear to me that everyone in the office needs my help. So I’m afraid it was just collateral.”
Evie stared at her with skepticism. “Do you even know what collateral means?”
“Something you sacrifice so you can do something even greater.” Lyssa, as she always did, put seemingly complicated things in the most simple terms.
The Villain nudged her arm with his own. “That was fairly well put, actually.”
Evie hissed at him. “Whose side are you on!”
Just then, Tatianna and Clare burst into the courtyard, looking bedraggled and furious. “Lyssa Sage! You are in big trouble!” Ah, at last—allies.
Lyssa dove toward Fluffy, who hovered his head over her, prepared to safeguard her from all harm. Evie got a peek at Kingsley atop the dragon’s head—he was holding up a sign that read, INNOCENT.
Not likely. “What did you do to them?” Evie asked her sister.
Tatianna seethed, her normal composure frayed, clothes wrinkled, hair tousled. “She locked us in a cupboard!”
“Lyssa!” Evie turned to her.
“I was trying to help them fall back in love! I’m sorry!” Lyssa winced. “I wanted to do it with Ms. Erring and Blade, too, but sometimes it’s hard to tell if she actually likes him, so I wasn’t sure if I should.”
Clare glared. “Oh, and with us it’s so obvious?”
The Villain arched a brow. “Clare, do you have pink lipstick on?”
Clare coughed, rubbing the fuchsia color from her mouth—the same one Tatianna was wearing. “No.”
Oh, when this was over, Evie was definitely looking into that further.
Lyssa had taken the distraction as an opportunity to slowly creep away, but Evie tugged her back by the collar of her dress. “Oh, no you don’t. Who else did you ‘help’?”
Her sister’s face got red; she looked like she’d swallowed something that burned her throat. “I may have…helped you a bit, too.”
Then it clicked. Her missing journal appearing on her boss’s desk. She’d thought it a prank by one of the interns, but no, it was her little sister on a matchmaking spree. “Of all the ridiculous things! Lyssa, I understand that your intentions were good, but it is not nice to meddle in other people’s lives.”
Lyssa’s mouth turned down. “But this group does it all the time.”
This struck everyone silent. Until Rebecka Erring stumbled into the courtyard next. “There was a fire? Did they find Lyssa? I can’t—” The HR manager stopped in her tracks when she saw them huddled, shoulders dropping when she found Lyssa in the middle, safe and sound. Instead of appearing relieved, Becky somehow knew to look suspicious instead. “You started the fire, didn’t you, Lyssa?”
Lyssa approached Becky with a sheepish grin. “Technically speaking, it was Fluffy.”
Blade bolted out next; this was beginning to feel like a poorly done skit. “Yes it was!” Blade picked up Lyssa and spun her around. She giggled, small hands around Blade’s neck in a sweet hug. “Lyssa Sage, you little genius. How did you do it?”
Lyssa shrugged, replying gleefully, “We just worked on his confidence.
Kingsley helped, too!”
Kingsley hopped toward Lyssa, hiding behind her when the boss began to glare.
Becky seemed put off by the whole thing. “Wonderful. And where were
you two”—her accusatory gaze landed on Evie and The Villain—“when she was helping ‘build the dragon’s confidence’ and setting fire to the architecture?”
Evie answered first, knowing they had to keep their friends and coworkers in the know. “We were discussing Renna Fortis.”
Becky stiffened, color draining from her face. “What? Why?”
This was an odd reaction from her. Evie stepped closer, feeling concerned, as she said carefully, “Renna Fortis was the woman in the painting with my mother. They were best friends. We believe she’s with her now at the Fortis Family Fortress, but we have no means of finding it.”
Becky swallowed, but the boss cut in to say quietly, “You do not have to if you do not wish, Ms. Erring.”
Oh, what am I missing now?
Blade’s eyes sharpened on Becky. “What’s going on?”
Becky smoothed back her bun and pushed her glasses up her nose before addressing them all. “I can get us to the fortress.”
Tatianna didn’t look surprised, but Clare’s jaw slackened. “How? It’s inaccessible to the public.”
Becky’s eyes found Evie’s, and what she observed there was so reminiscent of what Evie saw in the mirror every day that she almost took Becky’s hand: Fear. Reluctance. Worry. But also…strength. Conviction.
All warred in Becky’s expression as she said, “It’s not inaccessible to me…because Renna Fortis is my mother.”
