Chapter 24 Chance
Chance
I parked in the same crooked spot as always, front bumper grazing the curb and a patch of black ice under the wheels.
Molly's Diner looked like it hadn't changed since the nineties with a peeling sign, big window streaked with sun, that ancient neon "Open" half-burned out.
Inside, it was packed. Old brick, brass rails, vinyl seating that squeaked when you so much as looked at it.
Every table crammed with farmers, construction crews, and teenage girls in ugly Christmas sweaters.
The noise hit first, spoons clinking, the fryer screaming, and the world's worst country music piping out of a ceiling speaker, low and raspy.
Home sweet home.
Xavier had already staked out the corner booth, the one with the patched cushion and the best line of sight in the parking lot.
He looked every inch the sheriff. Uniform starched, collar perfect, silver badge polished so bright it glared.
His short haircut was pure cop. Hard to believe we shared a bloodline, sometimes, but that's dragons for you.
I guess genetics didn't care about personality.
He'd taken personal time for this meeting. My cousin was a guy you could depend on..
He didn't look up when I slid in across from him.
Just kept stirring coffee, wrist loose, the way he used to fidget when we were younger.
He was older than me, closer to my brother Evan in age, and I'd tagged after him as a kid.
He'd put up with it and included me in more dangerous stuff than I hoped Mom ever found out about.
I'd barely dropped into the seat when a waitress, Molly's daughter, with big blonde hair and a pink uniform, handed a mug in front of me and asked, "You want cream or just grit, sugar?"
"Grit's fine," I shot back. "Thanks, Connie."
She winked. "Didn't figure you as the cream type, Chancey. Do you want the usual?"
I hesitated, but only to pretend I was thinking. "Double smash burger, fries. Maybe a slice of whatever pie's left."
"Blueberry. Last piece." She pointed the pencil, then scrawled on her pad. "Sherif X got the club and soup, but I'll let you pretend you're still a teenager. Back in a flash."
The second she retreated, Xavier dropped the spoon and fixed me dead-on. "What's going on up there at the house?"
Well, fuck. Might as well rip the Band-Aid.
I twisted the napkin ring until the paper nearly tore.
"Tash moved the girls out here last week," I said, matching the hush. "Right before Christmas. They were living in Knoxville."
He watched me the way Lola eyed birds landing on the lawn.
"Cut to the chase, Chance."
I took a deep breath. "They're mine, Xav. No question. Fiona and Meredith. Born sixteen years ago. They look like me, act like me, and," I dropped my voice, barely above a breath. "Fifi shifted. Maeve confirmed the other's a witch."
For a half beat, the world went still.
Connie's laugh spun up from the back, all fake syrup and cigarette edges. The bankers at the next table started arguing about the Titans game, something about turnovers. Nobody was listening, but I doubled down anyway, hand cupped over my coffee like we were exchanging nuclear launch codes.
Xavier tapped the edge of his cup, pattern perfect. "Who else knows?"
"Mom, Maeve. Probably Damon and Evan. Now you."
He processed that, eyes never leaving my face. "And you trust her? Tash?"
Christ, the way he said her name. I nearly bristled, but the family's cautious streak ran deep in Xavier.
"She's the strongest person I've ever met. Sixteen years alone, never flinched. Got the girls through early teens without knowing what was bothering them. If anything, I'm the risky one here."
Xavier's mouth twitched at the corner. Maybe a smile, maybe not.
"How did the shift go? Coverup needed?"
"It was at the house," I admitted. "Living room carpet's toast. Furniture's still broken. But she's doing well now. That's why they moved in. Caden's working double time to keep her steady."
He nodded, then checked the window. It was an old habit of his, even in familiar places.
"Do you need anything?" he said. "A heads up if I hear chatter?"
I shook my head, but not to say no. "Just keep an eye on SkyArc."
He looked almost amused. "They're being careful.
They've hired best-in-class lawyers, playing by the rules, at least where the development game's played.
But I've got tabs on one of their security consultants.
Ex-military, with a sealed record. No priors, but he didn't come out of D.C.
clean. You get another name, you let me know. "
Connie barreled back in with our plates. She set the club sandwich and soup in front of Xavier, then dropped the burger and fries with a little flourish. Last came the pie, already cut, with a fork stabbed straight through the heart of it.
"Anything else, boys?" She looked at me, then winked at the sheriff. "You need coffee, just holler, no charge for family heroes."
Xavier's smile was razor-thin. "I'll let you know if we need backup."
She cackled, then vanished in a cloud of fake vanilla body spray.
I attacked the burger like it owed me rent, but Xavier just dipped a spoon in his soup and waited. He had that look, the one that meant the next question mattered.
"You think the Order flagged her? Or was it pure luck she didn't get noticed?"
"Luck. She thought Fifi had an anxiety disorder. No real blips, nothing to trigger surveillance. She had no idea about any of this. Then we met, the girls said they wanted to see me, and it triggered Fifi's change."
We ate in near silence for a minute, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Lunch buzzed around us, phones ringing, orders getting yelled, the hiss of the soda gun and the counter girl dropping quarters in the till. I watched the world, but every cell was tuned to what my cousin would say next.
He waited until I was halfway through the fries. "Get your girl's shifting stable, keep the other out of public fights, and don't let Maeve run wild teaching them. Teach them to be careful when they head back to school. Phones, webcams, even the damn school nurse, you know the drill."
"Got it."
He wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned forward, hard. "But if anything blows, we run the Meyer plan. Disappear. Have you told them yet?"
"Yeah." I rattled off the three fallback options, kept it short. "If it happens, we'll be out in five."
He changed tracks rapidly. "High school's on break until January, right?"
"Remote learning until then. Tash has a full syllabus for both girls. No need to send them to campus until we're sure Fifi can walk the halls without catching fire."
He snorted. "Good luck with teenagers. Hormones and magic don't mix. If you need a favor with the school, I'm owed a few. We can fake a medical file for the allergy if it helps."
"Appreciate it."
Lunch went easy after that. I finished the pie; he paid the bill before I had a shot at it. Connie refilled our coffee once, then let us be.
On his way out, Xavier stood, straightened his jacket, and clapped me so hard on the shoulder I nearly spilled five fries.
He winked. "I look forward to meeting all three of them. Family's weird, but it's what we've got."
Then he was gone, out the door, into the cold as he made for his cruiser.
I lingered, pulling a couple twenties from my wallet and left them on the table, tip fat enough to cover the next three servers who called me "Chancey."
Enough time to see Tash and the girls for a few minutes before I headed back to the bakery. Then I turned onto Meyer Lane and ran straight into SkyArc's idea of a parking lot apocalypse.
Three of their trucks blocked the side road I normally took to my house.
Not even tight to the edge, either. Dead center, spaced like dominoes, their tailgates down.
A flatbed hauled a portable security office, with two guys in matching vests perched on the steps, sipping coffee.
Farther up, a cherry picker idled, engine ticking.
A work van had half its doors open, tool cases spewing out across the gravel like someone got paid by the inch of mess.
If Caden could've rolled his eyes, he would have. Instead, he bristled. Move them.
I killed the engine and got out. There wasn't any way a normal car could squeeze past, not with the road full like this, so I left the truck on the shoulder. There was no way I was getting past them quickly, so I strolled, inspecting what they were doing.
Every twenty steps or so, another marker popped out of the ground. Survey flags, plastic fencing, and at one point, an empty Red Bull can crammed artfully into the fork of a young crabapple tree.
Put together, it all screamed, "We do what we want."
The closer I got to the creek that ran parallel to the road, the more obvious it became. They were swarming it. All the workers were near the water, where the bank leveled off for maybe thirty feet, and the stand of willows shielded the far bend.
One of Tash's sampling sites. And it was crawling with SkyArc.
Two guys knelt by the edge, both with knees buried in the muck.
They had little silver disks, motion sensors, I realized, and were jamming them into the soft soil every few feet.
Every so often, one would stand, wipe his hands on his vest, and shoot a glance up at the tree line, as if someone might be watching.
Somebody was. But not who they probably expected.
Farther down, the cherry picker had been put to use.
Security cams, brand new, all black plastic and evil intent, were lashed to metal poles, aimed dead at the creek.
Wires looped like licorice ropes down the trees, strung to a junction box.
They'd even set up a small solar array for power.
Overkill, unless you wanted round-the-clock feed.
I didn't bother trying to blend. I just marched right up, boots biting in with every step. I squared my shoulders and made sure every SkyArc flunky saw me coming.