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Waiting for my mother to arrive felt like backstage on opening night. I paced in front of the windows, palms sweating, and rehearsed what I needed to tell her. A pot of camomile tea steeped on the coffee table, though I suspected nothing less than Valium would reduce my anxiety.
A key turned in the lock. I forced myself to take a seat on the sofa and took a deep breath. Mom’s footsteps came down the hall. Her bedroom door opened then closed, and a few moments later, she joined me. I tipped the teapot and poured two cups of tea without asking. Mom ignored my offering and walked to the bank of windows.
She stared out, rubbing her arms as if chilled. “I need to know everything you’ve been holding back,” she said. “It’s important.”
“Important?”
She didn’t turn around. “Yes.”
“That’s all you’re going to tell me?”
She didn’t answer. I couldn’t guess at what she meant, but it didn’t matter. Even if she never accepted what I was, she was a part of our world now; there were rules she had to heed, consequences she had to understand, and I’d put off telling her for long enough.
I swallowed a mouthful of tea and carefully set the cup back on the coffee table. Mom remained standing, her gaze focused on something outside. I started at the beginning and retold the history that Avery and, later, Stuart had imparted to me.
“When Fliers come of age, they become part of a local group of Fliers we call a covey. Dr. Coulter is the head of our covey here in Vancouver. Coveys train together, protect one another and most importantly, maintain the secrecy of the gift. It’s been that way for more than two hundred years.”
Mom’s shoulders remained stubbornly set. She kept her back to me.
I continued. “Before coveys, Fliers were unrestrained. Those who weren’t guided by morals and the law grew rich using their gift. But it wasn’t just wealth they were after. The biggest prize was the gift itself, and the most valued gift of all was that of a Ghost. Like me.”
My mother shifted but didn’t turn around.
“More times than not, gifting ends up killing the donor. That’s one of the reasons for keeping the gift a secret. No one in Stuart’s family has heard from Jolene since she gifted me. But secrets have a way of getting out, and back then, with no one to stop them, unscrupulous Fliers absorbed the gifts they stole, grew stronger, and passed those enhanced genes on to the next generations.
“Eventually, nine of the most powerful families of Fliers grew a conscience and put a stop to the practice. They formed the Tribunal Novem to police the ranks because no one else could. They put laws in place to control gifting and to protect the secrecy of the gift.
“But what no one knows is that each of the nine founding families carries the ghosting gene. In fact, most Fliers don’t believe Ghosts actually exist. Long ago, the Tribunal wiped out all records of their existence, and what they couldn’t erase they turned into folklore and fairy tales.
“But Carson Manse found out.”
Mom’s head pricked up at the mention of Carson. She turned around.
“He didn’t like the way the Tribunal operated. He recruited like-minded Fliers and formed a group who called themselves the Redeemers. Their goal was to eliminate the Tribunal and replace them. That’s the reason Carson targeted me. He’d known Jolene. He learned I had her gift and thought he could steal it, become a Ghost and then be able to fight the Tribunal. But he didn’t know a gifted Flier can’t relinquish the gift. I couldn’t have gifted him even if I’d wanted to. Before the Redeemers were wiped out, they attacked the Tribunal at Cairabrae. I was there.”
Mom raised her hand to cover her mouth.
“Cairabrae was the safe house Detective Jordan sent me to after Carson burned down the cottage. The Redeemers killed Stuart’s wife, their cook, the wife of another Tribunal member, and others. They shot James and my bodyguard and they would have killed everyone else, but we managed to stop them.
“I’ll spare you the gory details of how—I don’t care to relive them—but there is something you should know.” I paused and steeled myself. “I was the one who killed Carson Manse.”
I searched her face, waiting for the words to sink in.
“Good,” she said with a conviction that startled me.
“Good?”
“After what he did to you? Yes. Good.”
It wasn’t the reaction I’d expected from her—far from it. “How is that okay with you?”
Mom came around the end of the sofa and sat beside me. Her gaze fell on the wedding ring she’d never abandoned. She twisted it slowly and looked up at me. “One day, when you have a child of your own, you’ll understand.”
The relief I wanted to feel remained out of reach. “I’ve come to terms with what I did, but I can’t believe you aren’t horrified by it.”
“Horrified? No. I’m heartsick for you. You did what you had to.”
I took her hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.” Carson had paid with his life for the scars on my back and his attack at Cairabrae. Some days it didn’t seem a high enough price.
After another mouthful of tea, I cradled the cup and continued. “Our secret got out that night at Cairabrae. Sam Jordan bore witness to it. So did a handful of police at the scene. Paramedics were called in to treat the injured, but the police couldn’t detain the Fliers. They flew off in the chaos and disappeared. Mason and Stuart didn’t have that option given the location.
“Later that night, before the bodies were removed, a helicopter arrived with a representative of a government-sanctioned organization none of us had ever heard of called International Covert Operations. ICO is as secretive, powerful and well funded as the Tribunal. They manage the inconvenient details governments can’t using operatives they’ve embedded at all levels of law enforcement, government and the military on both sides of the border. The ICO rep was willing to overlook the bodies, to cover up what had happened and to keep our secret, but only if we joined forces with them.
“The Tribunal made the deal. ICO created a small dedicated division. James and I were volunteered to join them, and they recruited Detective Jordan because he’d already been exposed.”
I stared into my cup. “I don’t work with Avery Coulter. I work for ICO. Sam Jordan is my handler. Avery provided the job cover because you weren’t cleared to know about ICO.”
Mom inhaled a deep breath. “You never worked with Dr. Coulter?” she asked. I shook my head. “He had me fooled.” She looked away.
“It was never a matter of fooling you. It was cover. But ICO won’t be a factor much longer. Someone in their organization got greedy and ambitious. It’s behind us now, but a few weeks ago they captured James and used him as bait to lure me into a trap. They betrayed us, and what they did to us threatens our existence—”
Mom’s head shot around. “What did they do to you!”
I reached for her hand. “They didn’t hurt me, Mom, but I don’t know, exactly. They drugged us, took blood samples . . . The worst of it is . . . they extracted an egg, maybe two, and took James’s sperm.”
“Oh my god.” Mom’s shoulders slumped, as if my words had hollowed her out.
“That part hurts. When I think about what—” I stopped short, as I always did when the possibilities ran through my mind. “I just can’t dwell on it. We have some leads, and good people are looking for what was stolen from us, but they haven’t found it yet.”
“You could have a child, Emelynn.”
“Avery thinks the odds are quite low, but yes, it’s a sobering possibility.”
Mom straightened. “This is Jolene’s fault. She should never have done this to you.”
“Mom, please. Jolene paid a terrible price for what she did. I’m lucky her family doesn’t hold it against me.”
“Lucky? That’s not the word I’d use.”
I swallowed and Mom took a breath. “Because ICO crossed us, any day now, everyone in that organization who knew about Fliers will be gone. All their documentation will be destroyed and any data they have on us will be wiped clean.”
She drew her eyebrows together. “Are you saying those people will be killed? By the Tribunal?”
“Yes. Like the Redeemers before them.”
Mom jerked her head back. “What they did was horrible, no question, but what you’re suggesting is murder.”
“It is. So was killing Carson Manse.”
“That was self-defence.”
“I appreciate the benefit of the doubt, Mom, but no. It wasn’t. And if he’d lived and been found guilty of a crime, there isn’t a prison on the planet that could have held him. Or us. This is my world, Mom. This will be the world of my children because they will inherit the gene. The ghosting gene. Very few people outside of the Tribunal know about Ghosts. Sam Jordan knows, James’s family knows. Avery Coulter knows. And now you know.”
Mom pushed at the cuticle of her thumb. “And my knowing makes me a threat.”
“Not as big a threat as ICO, but yes. You’ll be expected to keep our secrets. It’s not only for the Tribunal’s sake; you’ll be a target for anyone who thinks they can get to me through you. That’s why James encrypted our phones, why we have to keep his communication protocols in place. It’s why this condo, my cars, even the parking spaces downstairs are all owned by a maze of companies. None of it can be traced back to me, or you.”
Mom grew quiet. The silence between us felt heavy.
“The Tribunal operates with impunity.” She wasn’t asking a question. It was a statement. She understood.
“You saw the damage I caused to that road sign. Any one of the Tribunal can deliver far more powerful jolts than that. The Tribunal were, and still are, the strongest of our kind. The Reynolds family—Jolene, Mason and Stuart—are descended from one of those nine founding families.”
“Can you protect yourself from them?”
“Most of us can produce what’s called a block. It will stop the jolts and sparks from weaker Fliers. But there’s no protection from those who are stronger.”
“What’s the effect of one of these jolts?”
“Depends on its strength. They’re all painful. Weaker ones knock you out. Stronger ones cause brain hemorrhages that can kill.”
Mom looked away and stared blankly at the teapot. After a moment she stood and walked into the kitchen. A cupboard door banged, and then another. I heard the unmistakable glug of liquid being poured from a bottle. When she returned, she held two tumblers of amber liquid and handed me one. I sniffed it. Scotch.
She sat down beside me and swallowed a sip. “Is there more?”
“Nothing critical. You now know the worst of it.”
Mom’s gaze remained fixed on her glass as she gently swirled the liquor.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Remember the letter you found? The one from Jolene to your father?”
“Of course.” I’d never forget it. That letter was how I learned that Jolene and my father had a relationship long before he met my mother. Jolene had written about the son she and my father had had, who’d died. It answered the question of why Jolene had chosen to gift me.
Mom took another sip from her glass. “I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told another soul.” I stilled at the sombre tone of Mom’s voice. “I remember Jolene’s visit all those years ago—the one she wrote about in that letter. After I told your father she’d been to the cottage, he couldn’t sleep for days. I’d never seen him so rattled. He warned me about her family’s power and influence. I never understood his terror until now.”
“Terror? What are you talking about?”
She raised her hand to silence me. “He made me promise if he should die unexpectedly, or of unnatural causes, I was to take you and run, that the police wouldn’t be able to help us.”
Chills turned my skin to gooseflesh.
She continued. “I thought he was being irrational—blamed it on sleep deprivation. Jolene’s visit would have opened old wounds.” My mother swallowed. “And then he died in that plane crash.”
My mind spun back to that terrible time: an empty casket; a framed photo of my dad with a wide smile that seemed out of place for the occasion; my mother dressed in black; and tears. So many tears.
“I didn’t remember his instructions at first. It had been twelve years since Jolene’s visit. It wasn’t until I read a newspaper account of the accident and saw the words in print that I recalled his warning of an unexpected death. That’s why we abandoned the cottage, why I left Laura Taylor behind and became Laura Aberfoyle again. The only person who knew where we’d gone was Nanny Fran, who I swore to secrecy. You were furious with me, but I had no choice. You were the only thing I had left of him, and I had to keep you safe.”
“Are you suggesting Dad’s death wasn’t an accident?”
“The investigation was inconclusive. They never found his plane.”
“That doesn’t mean—“
“Jolene didn’t come to the cottage to introduce herself, Emelynn. She came to reconnect with your father. Imagine how disappointed she must have been to find he’d married me, that we were expecting a child.”
“Disappointed, yes, she said as much in her letter. If it hadn’t been destroyed in the fire you could read it for yourself and you’d know. She held no resentment. She was sad, but she wished you both well. She understood that Dad had moved on.”
“And yet she returned when you were twelve. Did her brother know? Her father? How many times before that had she returned to check on us? To see if your dad was still married. She was a Ghost. We would never have known if she’d been there.”
“Even if she had, it wouldn’t have mattered. Dad loved you. He loved me. He was happy. Even if Jolene had it in her to mess with that, and I don’t believe she did, she wouldn’t have been able to tear our family apart.”
“But she did. She planted the gift in you and then disappeared. Two months later your father’s plane vanishes. Makes me wonder if someone in Jolene’s family knew she’d been visiting your father and blamed him for her disappearance. The timing of her gift to you and your father’s death is too close to not be connected.”
“You think Dad was murdered? That Mason or Stuart had something to do with it?”
Mom stared at me, her eyes set in hard lines. “Yes.”
I scrambled up and made my way outside into the cool night air. She followed. I had no illusions about Mason. He was Tribunal. He’d wiped blood off his hands many times, but he had no reason to harm my father. And neither did Stuart.
I wrapped my arms around myself. “Mason loved Dad like a brother. Stuart respected him. They couldn’t have done it.”
“Your father’s plane went down without warning on a clear day. No crosswinds, no dangerous weather of any kind, no other air traffic. The pilot had no prior accidents on his record, not even a near miss. They searched for days and never found a scrap of wreckage.”
I turned to face her. “This is what you’ve been researching? There were five people on that plane. Any one of them might have had enemies who were responsible for the crash.”
Mom fisted her hands. “How many of them had warned their wives of an untimely death?”
“Mason would never hurt me like that.”
“The Reynoldses wouldn’t have even known you.”
I stormed away from her, back inside, and ended up standing in front of the windows facing the ocean. All these years later, my dad’s death still hurt; the hole it had left in my heart had never healed. The thought that Mason or Stuart could have had a hand in his death made me want to vomit. The urge to escape, to take wing and fly away from the pain, overwhelmed me.
My mother approached and stood beside me.
I spoke to her reflection. “Why do I feel like you’re on one side and I’m on the other?”
My mother quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t feel that way. Why do you?”
I looked away. I couldn’t hold her gaze because I knew why: I’d come to love Mason and Stuart as if they were my family, and that love now warred inside me, pitted against the love for my father.
I crossed over to the sofa and folded into it. Jarring thoughts ripped through my head. What had prompted my father’s warning? Did he know about the Tribunal? I couldn’t fathom Mason or Stuart being responsible for Dad’s death, but they’d deceived me before.
“Did Dad ever tell you why he feared for his life?”
“No. Other than the warning about Jolene’s family, he wouldn’t discuss it. But it makes sense now. After what you just told me.”
“I don’t believe Mason or Stuart would do anything to hurt Dad. And I won’t believe it. Not without proof.”
Mom sat beside me and reached for her glass. “I think we’re finally in agreement.”
I cocked my head. “How do you figure?”
“You need proof, so do I.”
“I take it you have a plan to get this proof?”
“The investigation of your father’s accident was—is—inconclusive. Because no wreckage was ever found, the cause of the accident remains unknown. I think we might be able to pressure the authorities to reopen the file.”
“How?”
“I’ve reviewed the original search results, the methodology, the equipment they used. Technology has advanced since then.”
“You think a new search might find the wreck? After all this time?”
“There’s a company called the Mansfield Group. They’ve developed radar technology that can find shipwrecks in cases where the old technology failed. The Transportation Safety Board hasn’t used Mansfield’s technology before, but we could make a case.”
“You think if the Mansfield Group finds it, the Transportation Safety Board investigators will be able to tell if it was an accident or sabotage?”
“It’s what the TSB does. I think it’s worth a shot.”
“A long shot.”
Mom straightened. “If we find the wreck and the investigators conclude it was an accident, I will make peace with this gift of yours, warts and all.”
“And if it turns out to be sabotage?”
“Then I will point the authorities in the right direction,” she said, and crossed her arms with a look of self-satisfaction on her face.
I buried my face in my hands. Mom didn’t quite grasp the problem. I pushed my hair back and blew out a breath. “That’s where your line of reasoning falls apart. If a Ghost is found responsible, they’ll make sure the proof disappears.” Mom started to interrupt, but I cut her off with a shake of my head. “Even if by some miracle the proof remains intact and a Ghost is found guilty, where do you imagine they could be imprisoned? Locked up?”
Mom’s face reddened. “There have to be consequences! They killed your father, I know it. They have to pay for that.”
“They won’t in the regular judicial system. Never.”
Mom leapt up and stormed to the windows.
“But . . . there is a way,” I said.
Mom turned and tipped her head, waiting.
“Just so we’re clear, I don’t believe Mason or Stuart had a hand in Dad’s accident.” I raised my hand to cut off Mom’s protests. “But, if it’s proven that a Flier or a Ghost did have a hand in Dad’s death, the only body that can hold them responsible is the Tribunal.”
“The same Tribunal that sanctions murder? What if it was this Tribunal that sanctioned your father’s murder?”
A headache threatened. I rubbed my temples. “I suppose it’s possible, and that’s more reason why this can’t be a public investigation. The TSB can’t be involved. Nor the police. We have to do this privately and quietly.”
“To what end? If the Tribunal are guilty they won’t be punished. Why not make as much noise around an investigation as possible. Publicize it. Sing the praises of the Mansfield Group and turn the search into a high-profile news event. Make it so public that the Tribunal won’t be able to defuse it.”
“If the Tribunal sanctioned the accident, a new investigation would threaten their exposure. They wouldn’t tolerate that. They’d find a way to shut it down, or destroy Mansfield’s technology. They might even plant proof of the results they want. There is no winning if the Tribunal are responsible. No, if this turns out to be sabotage, our only hope for justice will be if someone acted without the Tribunal’s blessing. And we’ll need to prove it without threatening to expose them.”
“And if it turns out to be the Reynoldses, do you really believe the Tribunal will hold one of their own responsible?”
“They’ve done it before.”
“Promise me then. If your father’s accident is proven to be sabotage, you’ll take the results to the Tribunal? Make the Tribunal hold those guilty responsible?”
“Do you know what that means, Mom? Whoever may have done this will die. The Tribunal will kill them.”
“Like they killed your father?”
I stood and walked to the windows. I’d never seen this side of my mother before. Her grief for my father I knew well, but this vengefulness? She stared at my reflection.
“There will be no going back, no appeals. Are you absolutely certain you can live with that?”
“I’ll sleep just fine,” she said. “Promise me.”
Though I wasn’t at all sure I’d sleep just fine, I made that promise. “I will.”
“Even if the investigation implicates Mason or Stuart?”
My hesitation was born of unfathomable dread. “If they killed Dad, they’ll pay.”
