Chapter 6

I walked back to the house. Granted, I was in a speed zone that was close to the speed of sound, but I walked just the same. It was actually perfect. All of the subjective time I wanted so I could think but no real objective time so no one would get worried. Would that I had this ability years ago when I needed time to come up with an excuse as to why things in the house – like various vases, lamps ... Andwynn's arm – were broken. I might have actually found a way out of it.

Things were not okay. Things were so not okay that they were on the utter verge of catastrophe.

First, I wasn't in control of myself. I tried and I think I faked it pretty damn good but I was on the razor's edge of losing it at any given moment. Little things set me off – and that wasn't like me. Of course, I really wasn't like me anymore. I wondered if I ever would be like the old me ... and realized what a stupid question that was. I couldn't unremember something; what had happened was always going to be a part of me.

If we were the sum of our actions and the things that have happened to us then I was one messed up person.

Second, I didn't trust anyone. Now, I had never been in my dad's all-happy-all-the-time-let's-hold-hands-and-sing-Kumbaya band but I had been closer to his point of view than my mother's squeeze-em-until-they-talk mindset. I guess the difference is that I'd had the luxury of never seeing the real world like my mother had; as an assistant district attorney, she'd constantly seen the seedy side of human existence. I'd never been exposed to the horror and vileness of humanity except peripherally in news shows and the like so I'd never managed to develop a hearty skepticism to the human condition.

Well, I'd been there now. I'd been there and back. I'd been broken and used and killed. Lesson learned.

I still didn't like it that I didn't trust anyone. I still didn't like it that I didn't trust my own parents.

Finally, this whole Order of Judas thing. Why was I even involved? I could have lived my life in happiness and obscurity and never known or cared about them. Instead, I was evidently on their most wanted list – for something I had no control over.

It came down to me, then. I was the reason I was in this mess. I had contacted Father John. I'd done the one thing I had been afraid of – let my secret out and it had burned me. My own weakness was my worst enemy.

I got myself into this. I'd get myself out. Yes, I needed help. I wasn't stupid, current situation to the contrary. The help would be on my terms, however. What did that old president say? 'Trust ... but verify'? That would be me.

I reached my house. The limo was gone but there was a familiar ambulance across the street. Of course, it could be coincidence ... and winged monkeys could come flying out of my butt.

I walked across the street and up the porch. I was about to knock when I thought better of it; instead, I looked in the windows and caught some faint movement. Yep. Paranoia 1, Trust 0. The nurse from the plane ride was in there.

It's like rats. Where there's one, there's all the rest too and you'd better keep plenty of rat traps, shotguns and hand grenades ready just in case cause those fuckers are hard to kill.

Or something like that ... I really needed to work on my temper. These rats were here to help me.

The door was unlocked – unexpected and convenient – so I stepped in and closed the door. Then slowed myself, keeping my speed field up just in case. It was getting a workout but it made me feel better. I just wish I could keep it up all the time – but I had to concentrate a part of my mind on it or it faded.

Yes, I can chew bubblegum and walk at the same time – but this really was a drain on my brain. I had to struggle to keep it up while I thought I'd need it.

The door opened into a small, enclosed entryway that was faintly familiar. If this were my home, the kitchen would be on the left just beyond the end of the entryway and the living room would be on the right. Further down, there'd be a small dining room just past the kitchen and a short hallway just past the living room that ended in a half-bath with the stairway leading upstairs just before it. Beyond the stairs would be a small room my mom and dad used as their office. Past the dining room would be an open area we used as a computer room.

I walked just past the entryway and looked around. The house was a mirror image of my own so the kitchen was on the right and a living area was on the left. Both were completely empty so I continued on.

I was hoping to run into Doctor Guines – or even the nurse – but of course my luck and I weren't on such good speaking terms recently. Just past the dining room on the right, Blondie saw me first.

"What are you doing here?" she snarled as she moved into the long hall, a rather wicked looking knife suddenly appearing in her hand. I do mean appear, too. I only wished I could go back in time and speed up to watch it appear in slow motion. I'd love to know where it came from and how she got it in her hand so quickly.

Almost as shocking was the fact that her accent appeared to be slightly southern instead of the harsh Germanic accent from the plane. I almost had to check to make sure it was really her. Almost – the knife and snarl were more than enough to give it away. Just another delightful card carrying member of RHOA.

"Good to see you too, Brianna," I said dryly. See? I can learn things all on my lonesome. I actually did catch her name when John and I were speaking earlier.

That might not have been such a good thing, though. Her eyes narrowed and I swear the knife seemed to get bigger. "I don't recall telling you my name," she snarled.

I was trying to make nice with her; trying to establish, if not friendship, a good case of acquaintanceship for us to work together. John said that she was on the detail to protect my family and me so I wanted to try to start a good working relationship no matter how badly I wanted to beat the living snot out of...

This wasn't going to be easy.

"No, you didn't," I replied calmly, putting my hands up and taking a step backward. I was doing everything I could to hold the rage at bay ... but it wasn't so good at listening to me. "John did. You remember him, right? Old guy? Impersonating a priest?"

"So, how did you get in?" She was still holding the knife in her hand.

"The door is unlocked," I replied, the strain of keeping the rage at bay starting to get to me. "I just walked in at super-speed."

"You're a bleeding liar," she replied, her voice deadly quiet. Oddly, I caught a trace of British accent in her words. She seemed to be pretty good at accents but she was rattled now. I wondered if British was her original accent. "No one would be stupid enough..."

"Actually, he's right dear," said an older woman, stepping out from the hallway leading to the bathroom. From the accent on her voice, another Brit. "I didn't lock the door when I came in. I was just going to do that when ... well, this."

Brianna didn't even bother to look at her. Her eyes stayed on me and they just sort of narrowed. She was wearing jean shorts and a light blue tank, so I could actually see her muscles tensing, readying to spring.

I was feeling for that tight area in my head, ready to jump to a speed zone. We just sort of stared at one another for a second, getting ready for the end game. If she jumped at me, I was going to kill her. No second chances.

Then, her muscles loosened and she stood straight up with a soft grunt. She turned to the older woman and the knife in her hand just seemed to disappear. I had no idea where it went. "We need to start getting more secure, Diana."

The accent was back to a soft, southern twang; she was probably from the U.K. then – or maybe had schooling or something there.

"Hello, Reece," the woman smiled; she wasn't trying to hide her British accent. She walked right past Brianna without so much as glancing her way and extended her hand. I could get to like this woman. "I'm Diana Stone ... well, Diana Capland here. I'm undercover, you see. I'm not as good at accents as our Brianna, here, so I'll be playing the part of a U.K. expat. You'll meet my husband – well, the man playing my husband – in a little while. He's tied up on other business at the moment. We'll be taking care of you and your family. We'll work to be as unobtrusive as we can, of course."

"So, you're married?" I asked as I shook her hand.

"Oh my, yes," she replied, smiling happily. "My Justin is a wonderful man. I'm not sure how he does it but he manages to keep me sane. We also have three young ones – though only two t'home. My oldest is named Reece, too, just like you. He's gone and got himself married to the most dear young woman you've ever seen, Olivia. I've only the two daughters at home now, though – Mallory and Kayleigh. Mallory is about the age of your older sister and Kayleigh is about your age."

I couldn't help but smile at the woman. She seemed so sincere and genuinely happy. "Maybe you could introduce me to her," I said slyly.

"That would be aces," she smiled. "I'm sure she'd be right chuffed to meet a nice, handsome young man like you."

Brianna made a strangled huffing sound at that so I wasn't sure that was true but I appreciated Mrs. Stone's ... er ... Capland's efforts at being polite. At least, I think she was being polite. I had no clue as to what 'chuffed' meant.

Awkward silence. Mrs. Capland was being far too nice to go into the rant I was planning on. I could have easily done it with just Brianna but it would be really rude to go off on Diana when she'd been so nice.

"Uh," I said. Yes, I really am that eloquent. "So ... how is Johanna doing."

"Hunky-dory," Diana said with a smile. "Why don't you go see her? I'm sure she'd be happy to see you again. Straight up the stairs, first door on the left. I think that would be where your sister Nevaeh sleeps in your home, isn't it? We noticed the houses appeared to be identical, just turned around."

I thought about it for a moment, turning the house around in my mind. "No, I think that's where I sleep. Nevaeh sleeps across the hall."

"Oh, right," Dianna said with a shrug and a smile. "I swear I'd get lost going to the loo. Off you go then."

"Thanks," I replied and headed to the stairs. Brianna glared at me as I passed so I guess I was doing something right.

I knocked on the door and entered at her "Come in". It was an understatement to say the room was sparse. There was nothing in it but a twin bed and a chair. A digital alarm clock sat on the floor along with a small bottle of pills.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, walking over to the bed. Johanna actually looked good, her face had a healthy, ruddy look to it and her eyes were much clearer though still not the soft, warm brown I remembered from earlier ... yesterday? Was it only yesterday? Either way, I wasn't sure how she managed it but her hair looked good even though it was laying all over the place. Maybe it was the smile; she was beautiful when she smiled.