Chapter 14 Nil
Nil
Time zones work weird too. We left Egypt around noon on the second of March, but we land in Darkhaven in the early evening on the same day, even though it was a thirteen-hour flight. It feels like we got back some hours we lost.
Early March on the East Coast feels nothing like Cairo. Docking there was sun, sand, and wind. Here, the air bites cold, and the sun’s down early this late into winter. The sky hangs low and gray, looking like it’s tempted to snow out of spite.
The Darkhaven airport’s buzzing at this hour. Security moves us through, and a black limo waits outside with the engine running, ready for us.
Kayla brightens up the second she sees it, even as she mutters under her breath about her husband overplanning and overworrying over everything.
“Now this,” Stan says, slapping the roof of the limo, “is traveling in style.”
Kayla scoffs. “You’ve been spoiled your entire life. When did you ever travel in something that wasn’t expensive?”
“Try sailing with a murderer loose,” Stan says. “Really humbles you.”
“You’re fine, and it was for like, a week,” she replies. “Relax.”
“A traumatic week,” he corrects. “People lost organs, Kaye.”
“That happens here too,” she says breezily. “We just don’t advertise it.”
We pile into the limo. The interior’s warm, leather seats heated. I take the seat across from Em so I can keep an eye on her. She’s still wrapped in the blanket Kayla gave her. Her posture’s tense, but she’s upright, looking out the window as the city rolls by.
Darkhaven passes in streaks of stone and glass. Old buildings shoulder up against newer ones. Gray slush on the pavement reflects streetlights, all green while we pass them. People walk fast, heads down, coats pulled tight. The city’s awake, even if it feels dead.
The ride’s silent for a stretch, until Kayla peers through the partition. “Driver,” she says, “we’re making a pit stop.”
Stan squints at her. “You can’t kick me out. I’m family.”
“Tempting as that is,” Kayla says with a smirk. “We’re taking a detour for burgers and ice cream.”
After a drive-thru run, Kayla’s balancing a burger in one hand and a vanilla cone between her thighs, calmly plucking pickle slices from the bun and dipping them straight into the ice cream.
Stan watches in horrified silence.
She takes a bite and talks. “Keep staring and I’ll dip the bun too.”
He reaches for her fries. She smacks his hand away. He reaches again and steals two.
I unwrap my sandwich and tear it in half, holding it out to Em. She hesitates, fingers gripping the blanket around her shoulders, but she takes the half from me.
Our fingers brush. Electricity passes from her touch. Must be static from the blanket she’s still holding around her.
She takes a small bite, chews slowly, then takes another. Her shoulders drop a bit. I think Idris would be proud.
My gaze goes to Kayla kicking Stan away from her fries. “I told you to order your own!”
“You’re the one desecrating ice cream!” Stan shouts back.
My eyes go skyward, looking past the glass roof. Guess Kayla and Em have something in common. Maybe Idris knew more than he let on. He planned for this situation well.
Stan groans. “Wow,” he says. “Whatever happened to sharing is caring?”
“That’s the thing.” Kayla preens. “I don’t care.”
Stan’s jaw drops just as she finishes her burger, and licks ice cream from her fingers, while the limo turns onto a quieter road.
“Alright,” Kayla says, settling back into her seat. “We’re a few blocks from home, so it’s time to catch you all up.”
Stan straightens. “Always down for hot goss.”
She and I shoot him the same look. Kayla’s is scathing. Mine’s more resigned. Em tilts her head at Stan and Kayla, looking keen with questions behind her glasses.
While Stan jokes suggestively about how he’s “always prepared to take in hot things,” Em reaches toward the champagne bottle tucked into the ice box. Stan intercepts it, swapping it for a cold soda in one smooth move.
Em owlishly blinks, then accepts the soda. Stan pops open the champagne for himself and takes over the armrest between him and Kayla.
Kayla pushes him off it. Stan blocks her. Feet brace. Shoulders tense. The limo sways as they wrestle, until Kayla twists his wrist and wins with a satisfied huff.
“Ow,” he complains. “That’s assault, Kaye.”
“That’s called winning,” she replies. “Now, let’s catch our two new residents up on the family drama.”
She turns her attention to me and Em, brown eyes big and bright.
“Let’s start with the juicy stuff,” she says. “Sterling and I found out we’re half-siblings. Same mother. Naomi Knight. Long story.”
Em sits back, brows raised past her glasses’ top rim. I feel my own curiosity spike too. Clo didn’t have much info on Sterling, but he’s my sister’s husband now. That’s a pretty important person for me to know more about.
Kayla keeps going. “My parents decided the smartest move was handing Darkhaven over to Sterling.”
Stan shrugs. “Called it from a mile away.”
“I’m talking here,” Kayla snaps at Stan.
She smacks a hand on his mouth before continuing. Stan glares at her but doesn’t fight it.
“It’s the smarter move, sure, but it’s bittersweet,” Kayla says. “I kinda sorta gave up my entire life to keep Darkhaven afloat. So Sterling and I talked. He runs the city and cleans it up his way. I get the estate.” Her hand points out the window. “Which we’re about to pull up to.”
Em leans forward, interest pulling her out of herself. That’s a good sign.
“Dae handles finances,” Kayla adds. “Which means things are fucking stable for once. Let’s just say fires are finally being put out.”
Stan nudges her with his elbow, so he can free his mouth. “You’re forgetting Elle.”
Kayla gasps, offended. “I would never forget Elle! She’s my best friend, you prick.”
She looks at me and Em again, smiling.
“Elle’s been talking about opening parts of the estate as shelter. For kids who lost their parents to crime.”
“Crime Sterling set on fire without a conscience,” Stan quips in.
That comment sticks. For a second, I smell smoke that isn’t here. Hear the crack of wood. Feel heat licking too close to my skin.
I was one of those kids. My sister and I barely made it out. But my parents didn’t. I don’t say any of that. I don’t have to. Everyone in this car knows what happened to us.
Kayla’s head whips toward Stan, glaring daggers at him.
He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
I glance at him, then at Em. She’s watching me, soda paused at her lips, eyes searching. I give her a small smile to show her we’re alright.
Gates rise ahead, metal moving aside with a mechanical glide. Kayla points again, pride clear in her voice. “That’s us.”
The estate comes into view through the trees, ivy crawling up the gray stone exterior, somehow so massive without being cold like the rest of Darkhaven.
This place is nothing like the Song-Smith estate back on the West Coast, where it was white, bright, and pristine, before it became ashes.
“House rules,” Kayla announces, clapping her hands. “Rules are Dae’s idea. I wouldn’t care if we lived feral.”
Stan mutters, “Feels targeted at me.”
“I said I wouldn’t care,” Kayla says. “Anyway, rule one! The kitchen’s open all hours. Eat whatever you want. If you finish anything, tell staff so it magically reappears. If you don’t tell staff, Stan gets chained in the dungeon.”
Em lifts her brows again.
“We call the basement the dungeon,” Kayla explains casually. “Rule two! There are security cameras almost everywhere but the roof, I think. So if you fuck in a hallway, that’s blackmail Dae will definitely use against you.”
Then she turns to me.
“Nil, since you’re with Stan now, you can share his room.”
My apparent better half launches himself at me, rocking the car. I catch him, hiding my smile against his hair.
“And Em,” Kayla continues, “you get the best guest room we’ve got. Closest to the kitchen. The downside is the bathroom connects your room to theirs.”
Stan pulls back from me, grinning wide. “That’s a bonus, not a downside.”
She ignores him to present the view from the window. “Well, here we are! Home sweet heavily fortified home.”
***
Kayla herds Stan toward the front doors the second the limo rolls to a stop. Whatever she’s muttering at him makes him argue back under his breath, until they step through the tall doors and into the grand entrance space.
Looking up, I take it in. And boy, there is so much damn space for a place. This mansion must be more massive from the outside.
I follow, staying close to Em, and letting my eyes take everything in. The space is big without feeling empty. Stone floors warmed by rugs. Old walls reinforced with sparkling glass. The place carries history, but it feels lived in too.
Em does the same thing. She studies the ceilings, the staircases, the light filtering through the windows. Her fingers tense around the blanket at her shoulders, then relax. She takes a breath and lets it out slow.
Stan tears free from Kayla a second later, skidding across the stone with dramatic offense written all over his face. He looks pouty before a smirk spreads his lips wide. I know that look. It means trouble.
Walking the other way, Kayla waves her hand at us. She flashes a smile over her shoulder that tells me whatever they were whispering about is far from over. Then she disappears down a long hall.
Stan pivots and starts walking backwards, arms spread wide. “I’ve been tasked to be the tour guide,” he says with that grin of his. “Welcome to the aesthetic marriage of East Coast money and old Italian crime family tradition. Try not to get murdered before dinner.”
I bite my lip to stop a laugh. He sees it anyway and smiles at me before leading us through the halls. High ceilings and carved stone give way to wood floors and glass walls. Some spaces are finished and polished. Others are half torn apart, marked with yellow warning tape.