Chapter 19

CYNTHIA CORVILLE

Cynthia Corville, for the first time in her memory, wanted to punch something hard enough that the lights flickered and the walls rattled.

She didn't know if removing Delta Bass from Waverwell government would be enough, but she didn't have anything she could offer a lawyer that could lead to charges being brought against him.

All she had seen was Delta scrambling away from a highly irritated Gabriella as soon as she had walked through the door.

And after asking if she wanted to speak with someone, Gabriella had refused and told her that Delta had gotten the message.

Cynthia knew she likely didn't have enough to form any real case against him, much less successfully remove him from Waverwell government. She had power as President of Waverwell, but her decisions could be challenged and reversed if enough felt differently than she did. And she would likely only get one shot to remove Delta. It had to be done right the first time.

Cynthia could keep her country going and solve every problem, but not if she lost her cool. She had to remain calm so she could think logically.

It's fine, Gabriella had said. Delta got the message. I just needed to shove it into him... literally.

And Cynthia had just nodded and said ok. She wasn't there, and Gabriella wasn't in a sharing type of mood.

Soon after, Harold and Linda walked into the room.

Cynthia sat at the head of the table, with Gabriella and Harold at either side of her and Linda and Delta further down.

The meeting started off with everyone introducing themselves— Cynthia Corville, Gabriella Torres, Harold Morris, Linda Machowski, Delta Bass. Linda took notes, as usual.

"The deaths from the disease are increasing," Cynthia began, voice flat to keep the emotion from weaving its way through her words.

Delta squinted, pursing his lips. "So... how long until we can do stuff again, cuz there's this party-."

"There will be no party," Cynthia said. "People need to be staying far away from each other. The disease is getting increasingly deadly, and doctors still do not yet know how to slow it, much less stop it."

"Delta, not the time." Linda shook her head when Delta opened his mouth to speak.

"Fine. I'll send a message in the group chat to postpone the party. It was going to happen tomorrow."

"So how much longer are we thinking on keeping the lockdown going?" Harold asked. "I've been watching the economy... and it's not looking good. Businesses are really struggling."

"I wish I could say, Harold." Cynthia shrugged.

"Like another week? Another two weeks?"

Gabriella scoffed. "I wish."

"Three weeks?"

"I honestly do not know, Harold. I want to lift the lockdown —I truly do— but people are dying, and this is currently the only known way to stop the disease."

"Can't people just make their own decisions? If they get sick, that's kinda on them, right?"

Cynthia stared at Harold in stunned silence.

"What?" he asked.

"It's not someone's fault for getting sick!"

"I mean... they were outside."

"That doesn't make it their fault. And that is what the lockdown is for— it keeps people inside to help prevent the disease from spreading."

"No, the lockdown is making the economy fail."

"The lockdown is helping keep confirmed disease infections and deaths from spiking."

"The economy-."

"Is not the concern." Gabriella's voice was flat but firm, not open to questions. Internally, Cynthia wanted to smile. But she kept her external expression neutral.

Harold snorted. "You know, you'd be a lot nicer if you weren't so rude."

"Is that supposed to upset me?"

"You're supposed to remain respectful."

"I'll remain respectful, and I expect the same of you."

"Yeah, sure." Harold waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "The numbers of infections and deaths aren't even that high. Shouldn't we just remove the lockdown?"

Gabriella let out a sharp exhale, dark eyes flashing. Her nails clicked together as she interlaced her fingers.

"And that's exactly why we need the lockdown!" she snapped. "The lockdown is keeping those numbers from being higher!"

"No," Harold replied with a frown. His suit made him look orange, and Cynthia wasn't quite sure how that was possible. "People can make their own decisions. We can't lose the economy just because of this disease. Imagine how long it will take to rebuild. And if we give people the right information, they can come to their own conclusions about what is best for them."

"People's lives come above the economy. We can rebuild an economy, but we cannot rebuild lives lost."

"Harold is right, Gabriella," Delta said.

"We will never agree on this." She locked eyes with him, an iciness spreading through her gaze.

"That hurts."

"That won't change my mind." Gabriella turned her attention back to Cynthia. "So, have you gotten any update from Danzig and the Corville Medical Center?"

"Sort of. I have a meeting with Danzig later today. They are coming here, and they will explain the changes in the disease and what is now known. And they will also share the updated recommendations for how best to combat the disease."

"Perhaps this meeting should have waited until after Danzig is here," Linda murmured as she finished a line in her notes. A moon necklace hung around her neck, and light glimmered on the diamond stars.

Harold leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "It was the only time all of us could meet, and it was better to have the meeting now than wait. Of course, decisions regarding what to actually do will wait until later."

"And why couldn't this have just waited until tomorrow?" Delta plucked a flower from the vase in the middle of the table. It was a daffodil, freshly cut and colored with a bright yellow.

"Here, Gabriella. This reminded me of you." He held out the daffodil.

She didn't even glance at him. "No."

"But I'm giving it to you."

"And I said no." This time, Gabriella did look at Delta, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"It's rude not to accept gifts."

"It's rude to continue trying when someone has made it clear they are not interested."

"I'm trying to be nice, can't you see that? I'm doing something nice for you, so the least you can do is be respectful."

"You're no longer being nice when the person has made it clear they don't want you talking to them."

Gabriella held Delta's gaze as he stared at her, expression flickering between confused, sad, stunned, and angry.

"For the last time, Delta, I am not interested. Go find someone else to pursue."

He didn't respond, and he stuffed the daffodil back into the vase. Its stem cracked, and he flicked it.

The rest of the meeting went similarly to how it had been going— talking around in circles, no one budging, sharp words exchanged blow for blow.

Cynthia didn't know how she would get the disease under control. She didn't know how the Trinity would be caught. She didn't know when Ashley Baok and Alaska Wendell March's murders would be solved. She didn't know the next steps in how she would keep her country afloat, but she knew she had to find some way. There was some way she could lead Waverwell through this. The path existed, Cynthia just didn't know where it was.

But she would find it.

She just had no idea where to begin. It felt like she was walking through quicksand, and it was rapidly pulling her down. Every attempt to pull her country out of this turmoil seemed to have failed.

Cynthia had never felt so hopeless, and it was a feeling she was becoming far too familiar with lately. She hated it, and she didn't hate much.

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But she would find some way. She had to.

xxxx

Cynthia's first impression of Danzig Sterling was that they might have forgotten to iron their clothing. Or, perhaps, that they had slept in their clothing. Or, at the very least, that they hadn't really been paying attention as they were getting dressed.

Danzig's shirt was on inside out beneath their corduroy jacket, their pants were wrinkled, and their auburn hair stuck up at every angle while a pair of glasses seemed about to fall off their nose.

Their gaze flitted across every surface in the President's Room the second they walked through the door, and their fingers tapped against their thighs as they crossed the room to sit down opposite Cynthia at her desk. Danzig's knee bounced as they waited for her to break the silence.

"Hello, Dr. Sterling," she said.

"Hello, Mrs. President. Please, call me Danzig."

"Very well." Cynthia nodded. "And please call me Cynthia."

"Alright. I appreciate the safety measures." Danzig gestured to the open windows and the distanced chairs, keeping air flowing through the room and physical space between the two of them.

"We want to do what we can."

"You called me here to know how things are going as far as the research into the disease?"

Cynthia nodded again. "Yes, please."

"I'm sorry, but it's not all good news. I'm sure you're aware the deaths are continuing to rise?"

"I am."

"We believe the disease may have mutated into a much more deadly form, and the survival rate is continuing to drop."

Cynthia's skin prickled as the temperature of the room seemed to plummet and her stomach dropped through her toes.

"W-." Cynthia's voice trembled, and she masked it by clearing her throat. She continued when the shock wasn't so strong and her voice wouldn't waver. "What can we do to stop it? What do you need to stop the disease?"

Danzig pulled a pen and small pad of paper from their pocket and jotted something down. They frowned at it, scribbled it out, and then wrote something else. "Sorry, I had an idea of a possible new avenue to go down. What was the question?"

"What do you need to stop this disease? What can we do?"

They sucked on their teeth. "Well, we've got the funding and I know you'll give me whatever we need. I think, sadly, it's just time, which we don't have. We need time to go through the data, time to get to whatever caused the original outbreak, time to figure out the proper treatment of the disease, time to make sure the treatment is safe, done right, and exceeds every standard set for protocols of treatments. And we don't have time." Danzig's mouth twisted into a sad smile. "We don't have time."

That was becoming a common theme— time was needed, and there was no time. Things were needed right then, and they took time.

It frustrated Cynthia to no end.

xxxx

Dawn had just broken over the horizon, orange just barely bleeding into the sky, and Cynthia was already wide awake, showered, dressed, and getting on with her day. Currently, she was going through her email inbox.

"Sin," Charlotte grumbled as she woke up, face still pressed into her pillow. "Wha'cha doin'? It's so early."

"I know, Char," she replied. "I've just got a lot to do, and I want to try to have some time with you this evening."

"You know that every time you say that, you end up going to bed way past midnight? I think you just jinxed it." Cynthia laughed at Charlotte's words, and she deleted a few emails she knew she didn't need.

"True, but I still remain hopeful."

Cynthia's breath caught in her throat.

A new email had just reached her inbox. It was labeled URGENT! And was flagged in red. Immediately after, an email from Gabriella arrived, and she was asking about the email she had just received.

"Oh, no," she breathed as she opened the email and read through.

Charlotte's hands ran across her shoulders and down her arms— she had gotten out of bed. "What's going on?" she asked, voice heavy with sleep. Her forehead pressed against the crook of Cynthia's shoulder.

"Pyr Iskie has escaped from the Moonfall Prison."

"I didn't know how he could do that," Charlotte murmured.

"He escaped once before. I thought you knew that." Cynthia turned around in her chair to face her wife, who shrugged in response.

"Yeah," Charlotte said, "but it was clear he had help. A prison guard admitted to pretty much just walking him out the door, and it was determined to be true. Anyway, what happened this time?"

"This time, the cameras stopped working, and by the time they got back online, Pyr Iskie's cell was empty and he was nowhere to be found."

"How the hell?" Charlotte murmured. "Pardon my language, of course, but how did Pyr manage to do that? The previous time someone just walked him out the door, and this time the cameras all shut off?"

"I'm guessing he had help, although I don't know from whom."

"Yeah, I don't know who would do that," Charlotte agreed.

Cynthia pinched the bridge of her nose. The sun had hardly risen, and now Pyr Iskie had somehow managed to escape prison. She didn't need anything else on her plate, but she would figure out some way to deal with it.

"I'm going to call Larson and see what he's doing about this."

Charlotte rubbed her shoulders. "Take a deep breath first, Sin. You're human, like you always tell people when they try to call you President Corville. Nothing wrong with taking a moment to breathe and get your thoughts in line."

"I've got a trio of murderers on the loose, a disease that's somehow mutated into a highly deadly form of itself, a massive energy company angry over an interview that's also under fire from alleged claims by a whistleblower that have yet to be proven, and now a convicted wildlife offender who has escaped prison twice." Cynthia exhaled through her teeth, then ran her hands over her face. "I'm sorry, Char."

"No need to apologize," Charlotte said, a knowing smile in her voice. "You needed to get it out. You've got a lot on your plate, and you're still a human being who's got feelings. Don't forget you're not a robot. There's quite a bit going on and there's so much bad in the world right now. It's only natural you'd be feeling stuff in response. Deep breaths, and feel the feels cuz they'll stick around until you do. Now, whenever you're ready, call Larson and get an update from him. I'll be getting dressed and then eating some breakfast, so join me when you're done."

Charlotte pressed a quick kiss to Cynthia's lips and wiggled her fingers in a farewell.

The telephone on Cynthia's desk loomed, a large presence that didn't match its small size.

She could do this. She could figure out this new thing on her plate. She knew how to balance everything— if a President didn't have that skill when they started, they would soon learn it and learn it well. Pyr Iskie's escape would be figured out. Larson Hotch had the skills and officers to track down and arrest Pyr and ensure he stayed put.

Cynthia picked up the phone and dialed Larson's number, and it rang only twice before he answered.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Detective Larson Hotch. This is President Cynthia Corville."

"Oh," he said. "Hello, Pres-. Sorry, Cynthia."

"It's ok. How are you doing?"

"I'm... I'm doing ok. Lots going on, as I'm sure you know."

"Yes, that's a bit of what I was calling about."

"I'm guessing you're calling because Pyr Iskie is on the loose?" Larson's voice was short, irritated, but Cynthia knew the feelings weren't directed at her.

She put the phone down and placed it on speaker so her hands were free to take notes.

"So it's true?"

"Yup," Larson sighed, and Cynthia could hear the exhaustion in his voice. "Pyr did escape prison yesterday, and we're still working out exactly how he did it. We've enlisted some help from the Sunrise and the Warren Precincts since most of our officers are working on Ashley Baok's case and identifying the Trinity alongside Ryzor Oberhofer and the Corville Precinct. We don't know where he currently is, but we will catch him. We have a few officers patrolling Silverlight Forest, and Ferris Dipper has offered to assist."

Larson paused for a long moment. Cynthia wondered when the last time he had slept was.

But then he continued: "I mean, the SFPU has made their own group NYTE to get to the bottom of Ashley's murder. Now You Tell Everyone. They won't leave it alone. And I'm sure they'd absolutely be able to solve it, they just don't have the resources we, the Precincts, do. I want to be able to tell them what happened to their brother and their friend. I want to be able to say here are the people responsible, we have caught and charged them, it won't bring back Ashly but they will spend the rest of their lives in prison. But I can't yet. We can only keep looking at every possible angle and following up on every lead and tip and clue we receive.

"And I think they know as well as we do that the Trinity is more than capable of another murder. It's just this cloud hanging over our heads. I don't want another body, Cynthia. Even if it gave every piece of evidence we need to know who the Trinity is and get that piece of evidence that seals the conviction and guarantees a guilty verdict and life in prison, I don't want the body. I don't want someone else's life stolen and to see the souls of their families drain away as their lives change forever and their own life sentence claims them like handcuffs snapping shut on their wrists."

Cynthia didn't quite know what to say.

"I don't want another body either," she whispered, then added, louder: "Two is already unthinkable and beyond words. The thought that there could already be more that haven't been linked to the Trinity is horrifying. And I don't want another life taken at the hands of the Trinity. Do what you have to. I don't care what it is, so long as you stay within the law. Catch the Trinity, but do it right. The Trinity might be... skilled, as much as it disgusts me to say that, but you, Asa, Azrael, Sedge, Ryzor, and every single person working Ashley Baok and Alaska Wendell March's cases are far more skilled than they are. I know you will can catch them. And whatever you need to do so, it's yours."

"Thank you, Cynthia," Larson replied.

"How close are you, if you can say?"

"We're close. We're closing in." There was a tremble in Larson's voice, a thread of shock like he couldn't quite believe what he was saying.

For the first time in weeks, Cynthia felt like she could breathe again. Hope fluttered its wings in her chest, and the crushing weight on her shoulders seemed bearable once more. Perhaps she really would be able to handle everything and she wouldn't stumble and falter as she tried to keep her country afloat.

"You're going to be arresting the Trinity soon?"

Larson paused for just a moment too long, and Cynthia's breath caught once more.

"I cannot give a timeline, but I can say that we are getting close to identifying the Trinity and having a case strong enough to arrest them that, with as much certainty as we can realistically have, will guarantee a conviction. We will need to be certain though, since I cannot see us getting more than one shot at arresting, charging, and convicting the Trinity. It will have to be done perfectly the first time. But we've got the strongest team out there, and we're working with Ryzor Oberhofer. I don't think there's anyone better than him to be lead detective at the Corville Precinct. And you gave us Asa and Azrael Smith, who have been working tirelessly alongside the officers and detectives at the Moonfall Precinct. We will get them, it's just a matter of time."

"I know you will, Larson. That isn't my concern."

Cynthia couldn't quite get herself to say it. My concern is that the Trinity will kill again. A part of her felt like saying it out loud would make it true. Some twisted wish upon a star. She said it, and the Trinity would kill again, and it would feel like her fault. Like she had asked for someone to die.

But even in the silence on Larson's end of the phone, Cynthia knew he understood. She knew he understood exactly what she was talking about.

"It's our concern as well, like I said before. We're working around the clock, but we're human. We need rest and to take care of ourselves, yet no one wants to leave. I've had to nearly chase several detectives and officers out of the Precinct to go home, take a shower, and sleep for at least a few hours. I don't think the coffee machine has stopped running since Ashley Baok's murder. Sedge has set up a couple makeshift cots so people can take naps at the Precinct. We all know we're working against the clock, but we're nearing the finish line. I hope we arrest them before they go after their next victim. I really, really do. We're getting close, and all I can do is keep working, keep having my detectives work, and hope it's close enough that we can catch the Trinity before it's too late. We need just a little more time, and we all know that we don't have it."

"I hope you can, too," Cynthia murmured. "Please let me know if you need anything, Larson. Tell me, and it's yours. The Trinity does not deserve to be walking free. I do not want them on the streets of Waverwell. They have lost that right, and that is not something I say lightly."

Cynthia believed firmly in everyone having their own rights. Everyone had the right to make their own decisions. But there were some things that were unforgivable in the eyes of the law

"I know," Larson replied quietly. "I have already begun coordinating with other Precincts to have a group ready to go to arrest the Trinity as seamlessly and as safely as possible. The instant I can, I will arrest the Trinity, and they will be charged with everything they can be."

"And I will be there to provide whatever assistance I can."

Cynthia wouldn't celebrate when the Trinity was caught. She knew she would be happy and would breathe a sigh of relief, but she wouldn't celebrate.

Ashley Baok was dead. Alaska Wendell March was dead. Others might be dead who died at the hands of the Trinity.

And they couldn't be brought back to life.

But the Trinity locked away in prison meant no one else could get hurt. And that was a weight that would get lifted off her shoulders and hopefully provide some measure of comfort to the Silverlight Forest Protection Unit and Kansas Sampson March.

It was just a matter of time, and Cynthia hoped they had enough.