Chapter 2 A Life In Hiding

Fyre

1885

So many years have passed, times have changed, and seasons have come and gone with a new skin, a new name, and a new identity, yet nothing felt like change for me; I remain numb.

I didn't think much of him; in fact, he'd become more of a daunting past I promised myself never to remember.

There were more humans procreating on the earth than there used to be centuries ago.

Supernaturals have gone into hiding due to our overwhelming numbers, a situation I partially contributed to.

I still lived in hiding, trying to fit into how humans act, and I've gotten so used to it after four hundred and twenty years of practice.

The streets were often alive, with carriages on four wheels transported by horses on cobblestone floors and industrial factories annoyingly churning, almost deafening my ears every single time.

What I've come to notice is how humans now speak little of God; now they are focused on their inventions and whatnot.

I moved through the crowded streets unnoticed; nobody cared much about my existence anyway.

Which was precisely what I wanted.

I had spent years living in anonymity, changing jobs when I felt I was starting to grow attached to a place; that fear of exposure always gripped me so that I constantly reminded myself who I was.

And this obsidian heart bracelet will forever remain on my wrist to protect me.

The daycare I worked for was on the ground floor of an old building that had stood for decades; it seemed worn out. Even though the sign was all worn out, the owner had refused to do anything about it and often complained about how tight money was, but he would do it soon. From what I've heard, he's been saying that for ten years, and still nothing.

The sun set as the clock ticked six. Mrs. Marie had picked up her bag, ready to leave. Today is Thursday, and she goes to church for her choir practice, leaving me with Bella.

Today was my last day here, so I'm not sure I'm going to stay longer.

"Shit!" Bella covered her mouth. "I said a curse word."

I chuckled. "Must have been serious."

"It is! Tonight I have a date, and it's by seven, and, uhm..." She shoved strands of her hair to the back of her ear, acting all shy. "It's with one of the Barrymores."

"So he is rich."

"Yes, and I can't ruin my chances for a good life by staying here... Lara, help me out here." She knelt down, pleading with me.

"I don't think that's possible; I already lost the job, and you know I can't take care of all of them myself," I said carefully.

"Lara, please! When I get married, I will give you half of my inheritance; just do this one favor for me. You can also place the key in the old mailbox outside; no one will know. Bella pleaded, her eyes closed, waiting for me to speak.

I was still hesitant; I simply couldn't just do that, at least not anymore. I've covered for her several times before now... But he is rich, and I know how that can be crucial in this society.

"Fine," I said in a defeated tone. "You can get going..."

"Thank you, thank you..." She kissed my forehead, and in a flash she was gone with her bag, leaving me behind.

I stayed up to seven, and one after the other, parents came to carry their kids, except for one, Danielle. She is only three, unusually quiet, and sometimes hard to tell was even there, blue-eyed with curly chestnut hair.

I smiled at her when it clocked nine, eyes weary of having to wait even more. There was a curfew placed by the authorities at ten, with a hefty sum as a fine, and still there was no sign of her guardian coming to pick her up.

At 9:25 PM, I started to close up, thinking of going over to her parents' house to drop her off myself.

When I opened the ledger, there was no address written, and the phone number was non-existent.

I was confused. I've known Danielle for about two weeks, since she was brought here, but I never knew her well. I mean, that was Bella's job.

I took a deep breath before getting up from my chair and heading outside, only for a black motorcar to pull up in front of the building.

It was rare to find anyone driving one, especially since it was only released yesterday, and yet whoever was in there had one.

The car opened. A pale man stepped out from the driver's seat as he approached me.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a black tailored suit only men of society wore, and it seemed to have been made by a hundred hands.

I sized him from toe to head, having no clue what someone like him was doing in a place like this.

Especially having a face like his, carved perfectly-sharp jaw, unreadable brown eyes, and dark brown hair. He held a black umbrella despite the sky being clear for weeks as though he were expecting rain.

I had stared so long that I didn't realize how close he was, almost frightening me.

"What do you want?" My tone was sharp and rigid.

"My ward, I was told the name is..." He squinted his eyes, trying to read the signboard, but couldn't make out any word from the weathered old sign.

"Name?" I remained polite even though I was about to scream at his face for taking so long.

"You can't have my name," he stated, firm and straight to the point.

I gave a taut smile. "If I can't have your name, sir, how then will I know if your child is here or not?" I said with gritted teeth.

"This is a daycare?"

"Yes"

"Then my child is here," he replied sharply. "My time is being wasted because of you..." He tried to shove his head inside, but I blocked him.

"What are you doing?" I snapped.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he shot back.

"Trying to trespass... Also, there is no hundred percent chance your child is here; there are other daycares around," I said flatly.

"Checked all, and they were close; this was the only one open. My child is here," he said with certainty.

He won't disclose his name, refers to his child as "his child" without using a name, and clearly doesn't even know what daycare his child is in.

How convenient for me to trust him.

"Do you have a tag?" I asked, still skeptical of him.

"Tag? What tag?" He searched his pockets and wallet looking for the tag. "Lost it,"

I smiled, amused by his weak tricks.

"What's funny? Do I make you laugh?" He questioned, his accent shifting to the northern accent that has long been abandoned.

I folded my arms, feeling much more relaxed. "No, you are not funny, but unfunny people tend to make the most jokes, which is why I laughed."

He exhaled his words, "I see I have kept you entertained; now please fetch me my child, or I'll do it myself."

He kept his words short, stern, and cutting. I think he does this to intimidate; this could be his persona.

I managed a dry laugh to ease the tension between us. "Give me a moment, just one second."

I went inside to a sleeping Danielle, and it made me think there was no resemblance of her that matched the man outside.

Danielle might not speak much, but she seemed kind, well raised, and not like the arrogant, dismissive man standing outside.

My hand hovered over the telephone, about to call the vigilante, until I stopped myself and went outside to meet with him.

He raised his brow at my empty hands.

"I still have a few questions to ask," I said calmly.

He checked his watch. "It's late; you should be worried. Women aren't allowed to walk around late at night."

Then maybe come earlier than 9:30?

I didn't answer him; I wouldn't dare say what was on my mind. If I did... Well, thank God I didn't.

"I suppose this is your first time here?"

"Yes," he said truthfully.

I nodded my head, pleased he came clean. "We don't have tags... But it would help if you gave me the name of the person who picked up your child before now," I tried to be clear.

He was puzzled in that brief moment, taken aback in fact as he tried to recall.

"Ava... Naya... Nina?" he dragged, sounding unsure.

I asked, "And your child's name? Need to confirm if it matches."

My heart pounded; if I were right about him, he would get Danielle's name correctly. If he doesn't, then I accept that I was wrong to have judged him.

"Danielle," he answered sharply.

I smiled quickly, my heart almost popping out of my chest. "Give me a moment."

I turned to the counter, locking the doors immediately, and then I grabbed the telephone and dialed the vigilante line.

He doesn't know where the daycare is, doesn't know the name of the nanny, doesn't look anything like her father, and refuses to give his name. What's worse is he drives the newest invention but thought it was best to put his child in a daycare where death knows no name.

Even after all this, the one thing he got corrected was Danielle's name.

"This is the vigilante line; please kindly state your iss-" Ethan's voice came.

I didn't let him finish as I cut in, "I need your help; there is a child trafficker outside the daycare..."

I looked at Danielle lying peacefully on one of the beds and then slowly dropped the telephone. My eyes shifted to the window, and there he was, standing there, watching me make that call.

Then he smiled.