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[Lord of the Mysteries] For the Ones We Left Behind 2/15 (3564 words)
Title: For the Ones We Left Behind 2/15
Fandom: Lord of the Mysteries
Character/Pairing(s): Audrey Hall, Leonard Mitchell, Melissa Moretti, Benson Moretti, Klein Moretti, Xio Derecha, Fors Wall
Rating: PG-13
Warning: none?
Summary: MI9 catches Benson Moretti, and end up with more than they expect.
Benson Moretti wasn’t sure when his day started to go wrong.
Perhaps it started around noon when a stern looking group started patrolling the hallways where he worked, dressed in stiff suits that looked more starched than even the expensive suits that those who worked in the higher levels of government wore.
There was a way that office workers held themselves, a way that Benson knew he followed along with; a little slumped and tired from the paperwork and regulations. These men, however, did not have a slump to them, and reminded Benson more of the freshly minted soldiers he would sometimes see out on the streets before they were sent off to the war proper.
He tried to stay out of their way through the day, just like the rest of his unnerved coworkers, yet two hours before he would have clocked out for the weekend, he was cornered in his tiny office.
Benson didn’t quite remember what exactly happened over the shock, except his shame as he was marched out of his workplace between the stern strangers, with their hands tight on his shoulders to prevent him from escaping. Thinking about it, perhaps he should just be grateful that they hadn’t handcuffed him in front of everyone.
The problem was, Benson Moretti had no idea why he had been taken.
In fact, he didn’t know where he had been taken to, once he was pushed into a darkened carriage and squeezed in with others in the same dark suits, and he didn’t know why he was there in the first place.
“I don’t know,” Benson repeated as question after incomprehensible question was thrown his way. “I think you have the wrong person!”
It had been nearly two hours since they confined him into this empty room, furnished with only a long table and two chairs, with a gas lamp in the middle and a large mirror on the wall. Despite asking him numerous questions, no one would answer any of his questions in return.
They also took his hat, cane, and coat, along with small peripherals he normally carried on his person.
He felt fear and shame, yet as time went on, there was also a burgeoning anger at the injustice of what was happening. Melissa should be home by now and wondering where he was. Benson promised to do some shopping before he got home today, and he knew how anxious his sister grew when he disappeared without telling her for a period of time.
Soon enough, there were men who entered the room to start another round of questioning, and Benson demanded uncharacteristically from where he was sitting, “On what grounds are you keeping me here? Surely I at least have the right now to know that much!”
The man leading the questioning, a stern looking middle-aged gentleman with slick dark hair and striking blue eyes, merely gave him a blank stare as he sat at the other side of the table, the second man standing at his shoulder.
“Seeing as you’ve not answered a single question of ours, Mr. Moretti,” the blue-eyed gentleman said in a low and gravelly voice, “You’re making quite the demand for us to answer first.”
“How can I answer when I don’t understand the questions? Just who do you think I am!”
At that question, the gentleman raised a hand, and the man at his shoulder handed him a sheath of papers, which he placed on the table before tapping it heavily with a finger.
“Perhaps we should start with simpler questions,” the gentleman mused. “Are you, Mr. Benson Moretti, of the Evernight Church?”
Benson startled out from his indignation, not expecting a question like that.
“I—” his anger faded at a question that he could actually answer, his voice going tame. “Well, yes. My family has followed the Evernight Goddess since before I was born, and we haven’t converted elsewhere.”
“Are you, Mr. Moretti,” the man fired off the moment he got his answer, “formerly a resident of Tingen, up until…” he raised a paper as if examining the information on it. “A bit over a year ago, was it?”
Benson’s jaw tightened, and this time he merely nodded.
“Then you would have worshipped at St. Selena’s Church.” The man concluded.
“Excuse me,” Benson attempted to be civil once more, although his tone was short with impatience, “But just who are you?”
The man quirked a dark smile, a hand under his chin as he stared down at Benson. “Do you think you’re in a position to demand answers?”
The creeping fear and anxiety was once again overwhelming Benson. He was fairly sure that this group had something to do with the government, but he didn’t know what. He didn’t know why they wanted him, and why they were asking him these questions.
“Listen,” he responded slowly, “all my job papers are legal. I passed all the exams. If you think I’m not qualified for my position…”
“Why would I think that?” The gentleman asked in a deceptively kind manner, blue eyes piercing behind the textbook pasted-on smile. “Is it because you’ve abused your position of power?”
Power? What power! Benson could have shouted in frustration. A whole year after taking the job in Backlund, and he was still mostly a paper-pusher, keeping track of files and facts that his superiors couldn’t be bothered with. It was a good job, of course, with good enough pay for him to not only support Melissa, but to start saving for both her future and his own. He wasn’t unhappy with his work, but he was far from being in a position of power!
“Sir,” Benson tried again, “you have the wrong person. My job does not give me any power at all. Whatever reason you have me here, there must be a misunderstanding!”
The man with the empty smile flipped through the papers on the desk again, ignoring Benson’s words.
“Mr. Moretti, you had,” the man continued to say, “a brother named Klein Moretti, did you not?”
Benson’s heart sank.
A year had done much good in soothing the unrelenting pain, and the change of scenery was a balm for Melissa, whom he often found staring at the seat of the dining table where Klein used to sit. Things were… if not good, then steady now. Just like the hole left behind by his father, and then his mother, there was a hole in Benson’s heart left behind by Klein’s passing that grew a little more numb each day.
Life, he found, was unexpected like that. After his father’s passing, Benson had taken on many adult responsibilities despite still being a young child. He struggled to help his mother care for his younger siblings, and to find passing work whenever he could, even if it meant only a few pence a day. Benson had been lucky enough to have a steady clerical job when his mother passed as well, and he suddenly found himself as the sole provider for both Klein and Melissa, who were now old enough to find work as well, but— he hadn’t wanted them to.
After being orphaned, Benson felt his previous love and affection for the memory of his parents was tainted by the tragedy of struggling to give his siblings the best he could all by himself. Klein had only just been accepted into university, and Melissa was also such an intelligent girl, and Benson found that he couldn’t deprive either of them of their education.
Even with his father’s dwindling military pension, it was hard to keep food on the table, but Benson’s proudest achievement was that he had made sure his siblings would eat every day, even if the meal was plain and still left them a little hungry. He made enough to keep a roof over their heads, food on the table, and give them an education as well. Those years left him exhausted and thin, but going home to the warmth of his younger siblings was worth everything.
Klein and Melissa were both such quiet and obedient children, hard-working and understanding of all the times Benson went away for days due to work. Even now Melissa was exceptionally frugal and would not speak of material wants, often content to spend the evening in the same room as Benson while she finished her homework or sketched out projects on paper that was covered in charcoal at every corner.
Klein had been the same way, his face often buried in a book with a frown. He was soft-spoken and intensely focused on subjects that interested him, and it hadn’t been until after he graduated that he slowly brightened up and became more outgoing.
Benson was so very proud, watching Klein’s confidence grow as he landed a job whose starting pay had been twice that of Benson’s salary. He was so proud of Klein, who then insisted that Benson take the time to study now that he could provide for them, and pushed them to find a better place to live and better food to eat.
Quiet, intense Klein, who finally opened up enough to laugh and joke with a smile, and who learned to cook delicious meals for them.
It was Klein who heard the rumours about the national exams, and it was Klein’s… pension, that allowed them to now live in Backlund.
Benson never mentioned it to Melissa, but after Klein’s funeral he made his way to Klein’s workplace in efforts to find out more about his younger brother’s recent changes. He wanted to know about Klein’s coworkers, whether he made friends, and what happened that day—
But it was a pale young woman wearing black who shook her head and deterred him from the broken building, and Benson felt ashamed of his own selfishness as he remembered Klein hadn’t been the only person to die that day, and for his co-workers, he was not the only one they were mourning.
But for Benson, half his entire world disappeared one unassuming day.
He died a hero, was all people would parrot to Benson. You should be proud.
But even a year later, Benson couldn’t think of Klein as a hero. Instead, he had vague memories of a little boy who would cling to his waist and cry about how he didn’t want a little sister, and Benson would have to soothe him with repeated words about how their parents would still love them even after Melissa was born.
“I…”
The room felt suffocating and hot. Benson tugged at the collar of his shirt, uncomfortable with the emotion that was running up his spine. It felt like a mixture of grief and guilt; of pain and numbed memories. It was also an absence of pain that only served to make him feel a different kind of grief and guilt.
“I do,” Benson confirmed, heart aching.
“And I will assume that this,” the gentleman gestured over his shoulder once more, and the man behind him handed him an object that glinted under the glow of the yellow gas lamp, “was something he gave you?”
It was a small silver pendant, one with rough carvings and scratches worn down over the past year and a half. It was a gift Klein had given both Benson and Melissa, and one he asked them to wear around regularly.
It was a little ugly, Benson thought, but that didn’t matter when he wore it as a necklace under his collar. They had so few things of value from their days in Tingen that Benson carried around both his father’s pocket watch and Klein’s necklace with him daily.
“It is,” Benson confirmed once more, unsure why the question was asked.
“Then,” the man continued easily, “you have neglected to indicate your affiliation with the Evernight Church.”
“What are you saying?” Benson exclaimed. “I just confirmed it!”
“To the Nighthawks,” the man continued, as if explaining to a child. His placid expression switched to irritation. He tapped once more on the papers. “I can surmise from your sudden windfall into fortune, and several police report addendums, that Klein Moretti must have been a Nighthawk of the Evernight Church. It is, of course, rather suspicious that his information was not made publicly available to us. When did he give you this… necklace?”
Benson felt a little dizzy. He felt a little nauseated. A nighthawk, what is that? He wanted to ask.
He didn’t want to speak with this gentleman anymore, yet the sheer intimidation of the man’s presence forced him to snark through gritted teeth, “Before he died.”
“Interesting.” The man drawled, once again lifting a paper as if focused on the facts hidden within. “And that would be nearly two years ago.”
Not quite, Benson thought, a little angry about the emotional wound being opened once more.
“Luan,” the gentleman called as he raised the silver necklace, and the man at his shoulder bowed his head. “How long do trinkets like this usually last?”
“It’s fashion is quite amateur and weak,” the man in the back, Luan, responded flatly. “Any power left within would disperse within a year at most.”
“A year at most,” the gentleman repeated slowly, and this time his smile was like a shark’s. “Mr. Moretti, you were wearing this on your person during our inspection. Had this been an inactive trinket, I would have believed you knew nothing of our world, yet its effectiveness to this day means that you must have had contact with others of power within the past year. A seer, perhaps, considering its anti-divination capabilities.”
“What are you talking about?” Benson exclaimed, overwhelmed. He leaned away from the men. “What power? What world? Seers?”
The gentleman gave him a fierce look, eyes flashing in a manner that dazed Benson for a moment before he fell into contemplation.
“Perhaps the contact was hidden from you.” The man mused, now gazing curiously at the small silver pendant. “Benson Moretti, are you aware of what lurks in the shadows and darkness?”
—
“If you need help,” Leonard told Melissa, “then I’ll do my best. But you say you don’t know who took Benson and why…?”
“We know who took Benson,” Melissa said deliberately. “It’s the men outside.”
“And they’re still here?”
“They are,” the blonde lady nodded, her nonchalance setting up a sense of familiarity that Leonard felt he could grasp if he just thought about it a little longer. She had such brightly coloured hair and an elegant demeanour, and sharp green eyes that gave him a warm feeling. She was—
Miss Audrey Hall, Pallez provided the information inside Leonard’s head, deducing his confusion from the way he was staring. She attends mass with her family at this church frequently, and is a notable name and generous donor who manages the Loen Charity Bursary Foundation.
The one Dwayne Dantes set up? Leonard thought, even if Pallez couldn’t hear his thoughts in return. He gave Miss Hall a more thoughtful look, and she smiled back at him.
“I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding,” Melissa repeated to herself. Her hands had a tight grip on the thin leather strap across her shoulder that connected to a worn bag. Her eyes darted about the plain room as she said, “I could go with them and sort it out. I’d just like… it would be helpful to have someone to go with me as well.”
Someone to go with her? Leonard’s gaze darted back to Audrey, who then looked away. More than just Leonard, who was fairly unknown outside of the Evernight Church, it would be better to have Miss Hall go with her— just one mention of her name might free Benson from whatever strange trouble he was in.
Of course, there was the danger that Miss Hall might be implicated as well, and Leonard was reluctant to let them go into danger unnecessarily.
But no, he had a feeling she could take care of herself. He was on the verge of understanding why, the familiarity was unsettling in his bones, he definitely knew that confident posture from somewhere—
Leonard snapped his fingers and exclaimed, “Justice!”
“Yes, yes,” Audrey interjected smoothly, taking a startled Melissa’s elbow to stop her from pulling the seams from her bag. “We really do need to get justice for Melissa’s brother.”
Leonard opened his mouth to say something more, but then flushed at Miss Justice’s fond and amused look. It really was Miss Justice! Audrey Hall, the daughter of Earl Hall?
If Miss Justice was with Melissa, then things should be alright. But then again, if another member of the Tarot Club was involved, things were bound to get more chaotic than Leonard expected. And she shouldn’t know of the connection between Klein and Melissa.
“Are you and Miss Melissa friends?” Leonard asked Miss Justice.
“We work together at the Charity,” Audrey responded easily.
This time, it was Melissa who looked between the two of them. “Do you two… know each other?”
“We met at a gathering!” Leonard blurted the first excuse he could think of, raising his hands. “We both, uh, attend this church!”
Audrey, on the other hand, merely smiled sweetly in agreement.
Melissa shook her head, as if shaking off her questions.
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” the young woman said. “I know you mean well, Miss Audrey, but I do think it’s best for me to stop hiding and go with those men. If my brother really has been taken by them, I would like to find out where he is on my own terms. I would just like… I would like to not go alone.”
Leonard gave Audrey another glance, and while Melissa was focused elsewhere, Miss Justice silently mouthed, MI9.
Ah. That made more and less sense. Of course Miss Justice might recognise the men outside from Miss Judgement’s shared description of how MI9 members tended to operate (in case the Tarot Club ever ran afoul of them), and it was good that Benson hadn’t been taken away by some street gang to never be found again— but it also made no sense why they would target him to begin with.
Did they find out that Klein was a member of the Tarot Club? It couldn’t be. If anything, the rest of them were more conspicuous, while Klein Moretti’s identity was labelled as ‘deceased’, and his role as Gehrman Sparrow was so drastically different that no one other than Leonard would be able to connect the two names together.
No, no, that couldn’t be it. Perhaps Melissa was right, and it really was a misunderstanding. From what Leonard could recall, Benson Moretti was a fine and upstanding citizen, and moreso a wonderful older brother. Leonard couldn’t imagine him involved with subjects that could draw the attention of MI9, especially not in the middle of the war.
If anything, MI9 should be dealing with the aftermath of Intis’s attacks on the Loen border.
But the idea that MI9 merely made a mistake in taking away Benson Moretti felt a little too optimistic.
A little too coincidental, in a bad way.
He thought for a moment about the urgent meeting all the Nighthawks had been recalled to attend, starting in just a few minutes. Then he looked down at Melissa’s determined brown eyes, and the overlapping sense of familiarity knocked the breath from his lungs.
(For just a moment, he was back in Tingen and Klein looked up at him with that very same gaze, about to do something very stupid and brave.)
“Ahh!” Leonard raised a hand to rub at the back of his head, hitting himself lightly a few times to dislodge his thoughts. He ignored both Melissa and Audrey’s incredulous looks. “Yes. Yes, I’ll help. I’m sure I can… It’s best to inform someone we’re heading off, in case things go wrong.”
Then again, if he informed anyone, he would definitely get dragged off to the meeting instead, and then Melissa and Audrey might just leave without him, and then what would happen?
“Or leave a note.” He concluded thoughtfully.
Don’t do this, Pallez’s tone was stern. This is a very stupid idea. You don’t know enough about the situation yet. It could be a trap.
Of course it could be a trap, but this was Klein’s family, and seeing as Leonard had never been able to stop any of Klein’s hairbrained schemes, he doubted he’d be able to stop Melissa, either. He was starting to realise that the siblings were indeed too similar, and this was his second time meeting with Melissa Moretti.
Besides, he thought helplessly to himself, what would he tell Klein the next time they meet if he didn’t stop Klein’s little sister from going off by herself like this?
(Never mind that he was fairly sure Miss Justice would have gone with her.)
Keep Melissa safe, check out what MI9 is up to, and break Benson out. That should be simple, right?
Maybe if Leonard was MIA, then it might urge the church to come after them should something go wrong?
“Or let’s just go.” Leonard suggested brightly. “They’re outside, right? If they don’t let us go with you, we’ll find a way to follow you so you’re not alone. What could possibly go wrong?”
Outside under the orange skies of the setting sun, the air raid sirens started to wail as if to spite Leonard’s statement.
Previous || Next
Fandom: Lord of the Mysteries
Character/Pairing(s): Audrey Hall, Leonard Mitchell, Melissa Moretti, Benson Moretti, Klein Moretti, Xio Derecha, Fors Wall
Rating: PG-13
Warning: none?
Summary: MI9 catches Benson Moretti, and end up with more than they expect.
Benson Moretti wasn’t sure when his day started to go wrong.
Perhaps it started around noon when a stern looking group started patrolling the hallways where he worked, dressed in stiff suits that looked more starched than even the expensive suits that those who worked in the higher levels of government wore.
There was a way that office workers held themselves, a way that Benson knew he followed along with; a little slumped and tired from the paperwork and regulations. These men, however, did not have a slump to them, and reminded Benson more of the freshly minted soldiers he would sometimes see out on the streets before they were sent off to the war proper.
He tried to stay out of their way through the day, just like the rest of his unnerved coworkers, yet two hours before he would have clocked out for the weekend, he was cornered in his tiny office.
Benson didn’t quite remember what exactly happened over the shock, except his shame as he was marched out of his workplace between the stern strangers, with their hands tight on his shoulders to prevent him from escaping. Thinking about it, perhaps he should just be grateful that they hadn’t handcuffed him in front of everyone.
The problem was, Benson Moretti had no idea why he had been taken.
In fact, he didn’t know where he had been taken to, once he was pushed into a darkened carriage and squeezed in with others in the same dark suits, and he didn’t know why he was there in the first place.
“I don’t know,” Benson repeated as question after incomprehensible question was thrown his way. “I think you have the wrong person!”
It had been nearly two hours since they confined him into this empty room, furnished with only a long table and two chairs, with a gas lamp in the middle and a large mirror on the wall. Despite asking him numerous questions, no one would answer any of his questions in return.
They also took his hat, cane, and coat, along with small peripherals he normally carried on his person.
He felt fear and shame, yet as time went on, there was also a burgeoning anger at the injustice of what was happening. Melissa should be home by now and wondering where he was. Benson promised to do some shopping before he got home today, and he knew how anxious his sister grew when he disappeared without telling her for a period of time.
Soon enough, there were men who entered the room to start another round of questioning, and Benson demanded uncharacteristically from where he was sitting, “On what grounds are you keeping me here? Surely I at least have the right now to know that much!”
The man leading the questioning, a stern looking middle-aged gentleman with slick dark hair and striking blue eyes, merely gave him a blank stare as he sat at the other side of the table, the second man standing at his shoulder.
“Seeing as you’ve not answered a single question of ours, Mr. Moretti,” the blue-eyed gentleman said in a low and gravelly voice, “You’re making quite the demand for us to answer first.”
“How can I answer when I don’t understand the questions? Just who do you think I am!”
At that question, the gentleman raised a hand, and the man at his shoulder handed him a sheath of papers, which he placed on the table before tapping it heavily with a finger.
“Perhaps we should start with simpler questions,” the gentleman mused. “Are you, Mr. Benson Moretti, of the Evernight Church?”
Benson startled out from his indignation, not expecting a question like that.
“I—” his anger faded at a question that he could actually answer, his voice going tame. “Well, yes. My family has followed the Evernight Goddess since before I was born, and we haven’t converted elsewhere.”
“Are you, Mr. Moretti,” the man fired off the moment he got his answer, “formerly a resident of Tingen, up until…” he raised a paper as if examining the information on it. “A bit over a year ago, was it?”
Benson’s jaw tightened, and this time he merely nodded.
“Then you would have worshipped at St. Selena’s Church.” The man concluded.
“Excuse me,” Benson attempted to be civil once more, although his tone was short with impatience, “But just who are you?”
The man quirked a dark smile, a hand under his chin as he stared down at Benson. “Do you think you’re in a position to demand answers?”
The creeping fear and anxiety was once again overwhelming Benson. He was fairly sure that this group had something to do with the government, but he didn’t know what. He didn’t know why they wanted him, and why they were asking him these questions.
“Listen,” he responded slowly, “all my job papers are legal. I passed all the exams. If you think I’m not qualified for my position…”
“Why would I think that?” The gentleman asked in a deceptively kind manner, blue eyes piercing behind the textbook pasted-on smile. “Is it because you’ve abused your position of power?”
Power? What power! Benson could have shouted in frustration. A whole year after taking the job in Backlund, and he was still mostly a paper-pusher, keeping track of files and facts that his superiors couldn’t be bothered with. It was a good job, of course, with good enough pay for him to not only support Melissa, but to start saving for both her future and his own. He wasn’t unhappy with his work, but he was far from being in a position of power!
“Sir,” Benson tried again, “you have the wrong person. My job does not give me any power at all. Whatever reason you have me here, there must be a misunderstanding!”
The man with the empty smile flipped through the papers on the desk again, ignoring Benson’s words.
“Mr. Moretti, you had,” the man continued to say, “a brother named Klein Moretti, did you not?”
Benson’s heart sank.
A year had done much good in soothing the unrelenting pain, and the change of scenery was a balm for Melissa, whom he often found staring at the seat of the dining table where Klein used to sit. Things were… if not good, then steady now. Just like the hole left behind by his father, and then his mother, there was a hole in Benson’s heart left behind by Klein’s passing that grew a little more numb each day.
Life, he found, was unexpected like that. After his father’s passing, Benson had taken on many adult responsibilities despite still being a young child. He struggled to help his mother care for his younger siblings, and to find passing work whenever he could, even if it meant only a few pence a day. Benson had been lucky enough to have a steady clerical job when his mother passed as well, and he suddenly found himself as the sole provider for both Klein and Melissa, who were now old enough to find work as well, but— he hadn’t wanted them to.
After being orphaned, Benson felt his previous love and affection for the memory of his parents was tainted by the tragedy of struggling to give his siblings the best he could all by himself. Klein had only just been accepted into university, and Melissa was also such an intelligent girl, and Benson found that he couldn’t deprive either of them of their education.
Even with his father’s dwindling military pension, it was hard to keep food on the table, but Benson’s proudest achievement was that he had made sure his siblings would eat every day, even if the meal was plain and still left them a little hungry. He made enough to keep a roof over their heads, food on the table, and give them an education as well. Those years left him exhausted and thin, but going home to the warmth of his younger siblings was worth everything.
Klein and Melissa were both such quiet and obedient children, hard-working and understanding of all the times Benson went away for days due to work. Even now Melissa was exceptionally frugal and would not speak of material wants, often content to spend the evening in the same room as Benson while she finished her homework or sketched out projects on paper that was covered in charcoal at every corner.
Klein had been the same way, his face often buried in a book with a frown. He was soft-spoken and intensely focused on subjects that interested him, and it hadn’t been until after he graduated that he slowly brightened up and became more outgoing.
Benson was so very proud, watching Klein’s confidence grow as he landed a job whose starting pay had been twice that of Benson’s salary. He was so proud of Klein, who then insisted that Benson take the time to study now that he could provide for them, and pushed them to find a better place to live and better food to eat.
Quiet, intense Klein, who finally opened up enough to laugh and joke with a smile, and who learned to cook delicious meals for them.
It was Klein who heard the rumours about the national exams, and it was Klein’s… pension, that allowed them to now live in Backlund.
Benson never mentioned it to Melissa, but after Klein’s funeral he made his way to Klein’s workplace in efforts to find out more about his younger brother’s recent changes. He wanted to know about Klein’s coworkers, whether he made friends, and what happened that day—
But it was a pale young woman wearing black who shook her head and deterred him from the broken building, and Benson felt ashamed of his own selfishness as he remembered Klein hadn’t been the only person to die that day, and for his co-workers, he was not the only one they were mourning.
But for Benson, half his entire world disappeared one unassuming day.
He died a hero, was all people would parrot to Benson. You should be proud.
But even a year later, Benson couldn’t think of Klein as a hero. Instead, he had vague memories of a little boy who would cling to his waist and cry about how he didn’t want a little sister, and Benson would have to soothe him with repeated words about how their parents would still love them even after Melissa was born.
“I…”
The room felt suffocating and hot. Benson tugged at the collar of his shirt, uncomfortable with the emotion that was running up his spine. It felt like a mixture of grief and guilt; of pain and numbed memories. It was also an absence of pain that only served to make him feel a different kind of grief and guilt.
“I do,” Benson confirmed, heart aching.
“And I will assume that this,” the gentleman gestured over his shoulder once more, and the man behind him handed him an object that glinted under the glow of the yellow gas lamp, “was something he gave you?”
It was a small silver pendant, one with rough carvings and scratches worn down over the past year and a half. It was a gift Klein had given both Benson and Melissa, and one he asked them to wear around regularly.
It was a little ugly, Benson thought, but that didn’t matter when he wore it as a necklace under his collar. They had so few things of value from their days in Tingen that Benson carried around both his father’s pocket watch and Klein’s necklace with him daily.
“It is,” Benson confirmed once more, unsure why the question was asked.
“Then,” the man continued easily, “you have neglected to indicate your affiliation with the Evernight Church.”
“What are you saying?” Benson exclaimed. “I just confirmed it!”
“To the Nighthawks,” the man continued, as if explaining to a child. His placid expression switched to irritation. He tapped once more on the papers. “I can surmise from your sudden windfall into fortune, and several police report addendums, that Klein Moretti must have been a Nighthawk of the Evernight Church. It is, of course, rather suspicious that his information was not made publicly available to us. When did he give you this… necklace?”
Benson felt a little dizzy. He felt a little nauseated. A nighthawk, what is that? He wanted to ask.
He didn’t want to speak with this gentleman anymore, yet the sheer intimidation of the man’s presence forced him to snark through gritted teeth, “Before he died.”
“Interesting.” The man drawled, once again lifting a paper as if focused on the facts hidden within. “And that would be nearly two years ago.”
Not quite, Benson thought, a little angry about the emotional wound being opened once more.
“Luan,” the gentleman called as he raised the silver necklace, and the man at his shoulder bowed his head. “How long do trinkets like this usually last?”
“It’s fashion is quite amateur and weak,” the man in the back, Luan, responded flatly. “Any power left within would disperse within a year at most.”
“A year at most,” the gentleman repeated slowly, and this time his smile was like a shark’s. “Mr. Moretti, you were wearing this on your person during our inspection. Had this been an inactive trinket, I would have believed you knew nothing of our world, yet its effectiveness to this day means that you must have had contact with others of power within the past year. A seer, perhaps, considering its anti-divination capabilities.”
“What are you talking about?” Benson exclaimed, overwhelmed. He leaned away from the men. “What power? What world? Seers?”
The gentleman gave him a fierce look, eyes flashing in a manner that dazed Benson for a moment before he fell into contemplation.
“Perhaps the contact was hidden from you.” The man mused, now gazing curiously at the small silver pendant. “Benson Moretti, are you aware of what lurks in the shadows and darkness?”
—
“If you need help,” Leonard told Melissa, “then I’ll do my best. But you say you don’t know who took Benson and why…?”
“We know who took Benson,” Melissa said deliberately. “It’s the men outside.”
“And they’re still here?”
“They are,” the blonde lady nodded, her nonchalance setting up a sense of familiarity that Leonard felt he could grasp if he just thought about it a little longer. She had such brightly coloured hair and an elegant demeanour, and sharp green eyes that gave him a warm feeling. She was—
Miss Audrey Hall, Pallez provided the information inside Leonard’s head, deducing his confusion from the way he was staring. She attends mass with her family at this church frequently, and is a notable name and generous donor who manages the Loen Charity Bursary Foundation.
The one Dwayne Dantes set up? Leonard thought, even if Pallez couldn’t hear his thoughts in return. He gave Miss Hall a more thoughtful look, and she smiled back at him.
“I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding,” Melissa repeated to herself. Her hands had a tight grip on the thin leather strap across her shoulder that connected to a worn bag. Her eyes darted about the plain room as she said, “I could go with them and sort it out. I’d just like… it would be helpful to have someone to go with me as well.”
Someone to go with her? Leonard’s gaze darted back to Audrey, who then looked away. More than just Leonard, who was fairly unknown outside of the Evernight Church, it would be better to have Miss Hall go with her— just one mention of her name might free Benson from whatever strange trouble he was in.
Of course, there was the danger that Miss Hall might be implicated as well, and Leonard was reluctant to let them go into danger unnecessarily.
But no, he had a feeling she could take care of herself. He was on the verge of understanding why, the familiarity was unsettling in his bones, he definitely knew that confident posture from somewhere—
Leonard snapped his fingers and exclaimed, “Justice!”
“Yes, yes,” Audrey interjected smoothly, taking a startled Melissa’s elbow to stop her from pulling the seams from her bag. “We really do need to get justice for Melissa’s brother.”
Leonard opened his mouth to say something more, but then flushed at Miss Justice’s fond and amused look. It really was Miss Justice! Audrey Hall, the daughter of Earl Hall?
If Miss Justice was with Melissa, then things should be alright. But then again, if another member of the Tarot Club was involved, things were bound to get more chaotic than Leonard expected. And she shouldn’t know of the connection between Klein and Melissa.
“Are you and Miss Melissa friends?” Leonard asked Miss Justice.
“We work together at the Charity,” Audrey responded easily.
This time, it was Melissa who looked between the two of them. “Do you two… know each other?”
“We met at a gathering!” Leonard blurted the first excuse he could think of, raising his hands. “We both, uh, attend this church!”
Audrey, on the other hand, merely smiled sweetly in agreement.
Melissa shook her head, as if shaking off her questions.
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” the young woman said. “I know you mean well, Miss Audrey, but I do think it’s best for me to stop hiding and go with those men. If my brother really has been taken by them, I would like to find out where he is on my own terms. I would just like… I would like to not go alone.”
Leonard gave Audrey another glance, and while Melissa was focused elsewhere, Miss Justice silently mouthed, MI9.
Ah. That made more and less sense. Of course Miss Justice might recognise the men outside from Miss Judgement’s shared description of how MI9 members tended to operate (in case the Tarot Club ever ran afoul of them), and it was good that Benson hadn’t been taken away by some street gang to never be found again— but it also made no sense why they would target him to begin with.
Did they find out that Klein was a member of the Tarot Club? It couldn’t be. If anything, the rest of them were more conspicuous, while Klein Moretti’s identity was labelled as ‘deceased’, and his role as Gehrman Sparrow was so drastically different that no one other than Leonard would be able to connect the two names together.
No, no, that couldn’t be it. Perhaps Melissa was right, and it really was a misunderstanding. From what Leonard could recall, Benson Moretti was a fine and upstanding citizen, and moreso a wonderful older brother. Leonard couldn’t imagine him involved with subjects that could draw the attention of MI9, especially not in the middle of the war.
If anything, MI9 should be dealing with the aftermath of Intis’s attacks on the Loen border.
But the idea that MI9 merely made a mistake in taking away Benson Moretti felt a little too optimistic.
A little too coincidental, in a bad way.
He thought for a moment about the urgent meeting all the Nighthawks had been recalled to attend, starting in just a few minutes. Then he looked down at Melissa’s determined brown eyes, and the overlapping sense of familiarity knocked the breath from his lungs.
(For just a moment, he was back in Tingen and Klein looked up at him with that very same gaze, about to do something very stupid and brave.)
“Ahh!” Leonard raised a hand to rub at the back of his head, hitting himself lightly a few times to dislodge his thoughts. He ignored both Melissa and Audrey’s incredulous looks. “Yes. Yes, I’ll help. I’m sure I can… It’s best to inform someone we’re heading off, in case things go wrong.”
Then again, if he informed anyone, he would definitely get dragged off to the meeting instead, and then Melissa and Audrey might just leave without him, and then what would happen?
“Or leave a note.” He concluded thoughtfully.
Don’t do this, Pallez’s tone was stern. This is a very stupid idea. You don’t know enough about the situation yet. It could be a trap.
Of course it could be a trap, but this was Klein’s family, and seeing as Leonard had never been able to stop any of Klein’s hairbrained schemes, he doubted he’d be able to stop Melissa, either. He was starting to realise that the siblings were indeed too similar, and this was his second time meeting with Melissa Moretti.
Besides, he thought helplessly to himself, what would he tell Klein the next time they meet if he didn’t stop Klein’s little sister from going off by herself like this?
(Never mind that he was fairly sure Miss Justice would have gone with her.)
Keep Melissa safe, check out what MI9 is up to, and break Benson out. That should be simple, right?
Maybe if Leonard was MIA, then it might urge the church to come after them should something go wrong?
“Or let’s just go.” Leonard suggested brightly. “They’re outside, right? If they don’t let us go with you, we’ll find a way to follow you so you’re not alone. What could possibly go wrong?”
Outside under the orange skies of the setting sun, the air raid sirens started to wail as if to spite Leonard’s statement.