The drive home for Marvain was rough. The wind battered her car and she almost lost control of the vehicle a couple times. One she was safely in the garage, she allowed herself to relax. The relaxation didn’t last for long, as memories of the day flooded back to her mind. She got out and slammed the door shut. The day had started brilliantly, and she resented how quickly it turned around.

That she survived the attack was no longer much consolation. The more she thought about it, the more she realized how difficult things were going to get. Nowhere was safe from the Phantom Scythe, and it seemed like he could do anything he wanted whenever he wanted.

She lied down on the living room couch, trying to shake the helpless feeling. She wanted to help, but nothing in her skillset could be of any use. The self-defense class she took had only been basic, and she didn’t like using the Aether anyway. It always hurt. At least Brandon and Evan were engineers. That type of knowledge must be useful to some degree in situations like this.

She browsed the channels on the television set. Nothing seemed to interest her. She went to the master bedroom and got out her pen and journal. She never liked journaling, but found that it helped to write down her thoughts in times like this. It saved her sanity several times, including that time when she almost lost her job due to an enormous market crash. Brandon hadn’t taken it well either. Now that she thought about it, their marriage hadn’t quite been the same since then. Evan was only a toddler back then, so thankfully he wouldn’t remember much about it.

That was the first thing she wrote about, followed by all the other problems on her mind. The Phantom Scythe terrorist, Evan and his career, and the fact that she had started gaining weight for no reason in the past five years. The knew that last one was natural, but she could never quite get over it. She had become more self-conscious about it in public and felt it was affecting her performance in her job. Brandon had suggested wearing different clothes to make it less obvious, but she wasn’t willing to give up that easily.

Next, she wrote about the day, and reiterated how frustrated she was that things seemed to work out for other people, but not her. She wrote about it for fifteen minutes, then mentally took a step back. She had just covered three pages of the journal in single-spaced handwriting in less than half an hour. God, all that black ink had been in her head. It did feel a bit better to get it down. She felt a bit lighter, but she also didn’t feel any closer to a solution to any of those problems. She looked at the pages one more time, then wrote one last line: “Why can’t I stop complaining about everything?”

She closed the journal and laid down on the bed. She wanted to drift off into a nap right there, but a few minutes later her wrist pad ringed with the sound of antique chimes blowing in the wind. She lazily brought her arm over her face to see who it was. It was from the prison. Bandon was calling.

She answered the call. “Hello.”

“Hey,” Brandon’s voice came through. “Sorry I didn’t call earlier. I can only make calls every few days. How are you?”

“I know, it’s fine. I’m… not so fine,” Marvain replied. “Actually, your call is good timing because something happened today.”

Brandon was silent on the other end for a few seconds. “Something also happened to me a couple days ago. I don’t think this is a coincidence. Did you encounter the Scythe?”

“Yes,” Marvain gulped, trying not to visualize any of the memories as she recounted the gist of the event to Brandon.

“He’s a damn psychopath,” Brandon growled after she finished.

“No shit!” she shouted. “He almost killed me over buying a house… well, a mansion, actually, but still.”

“That’s only half the story, though,” Brandon said. He proceeded to tell her his encounter with Zandith in his cell. That name rang a bell in her mind. Wasn’t that the name of an ancient mythical deity of evil? Why would he call himself that? She found it hard to believe he would be that self-aware.

“So let me get this straight,” she said after Brandon finished his story. He had to be extremely vague with everything because the call was being recorded by the prison. “You have to do something which you can’t tell me what it is or where, or else he kills Evan.”

“Correct.”

“And you have no idea what he’s going to do after that. He could just go and kill Evan anyway.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if he did that, too. That’s why I called. He knows where Evan is. You need to move him to somewhere safe.”

Marvain scoffed. “But where? Certainly not the house. What are we going to do, trap him in an underground bunker for the next year and hope Zandith forgets about him?”

“I don’t know! Just move him somewhere else.”

“Brandon, if this guy can appear as anyone and sound like anyone, how do you know if Evan is in a safe place or not?”

“We can’t know, but what else are we supposed to do?”

“We’ll keep at him at the hospital but get a security detail around him. That’s the best I got off the top of my head.”

Brandon sighed. “We’re going to have to make sure each of them is screened for identity.”

“I’ll let Hector know. In fact, I’ll tell him what happened to you, too. He wants to get everything he can about Zandith and relay it to Domrik.”

“Oh, that guy?”

Marvain rolled her eyes. “Yes, the martial artist.”

“Funny thing. Zandith mentioned him, saying I don’t know half of what the Aether is capable of.”

“Uh, did he forget who he was talking to?”

Brandon chuckled. “I think I said something like that, though honestly he might be right. I can’t imagine that these illusions don’t involve using the Aether to some degree.”

“Domrik did seem willing to help Evan,” Marvain said. “Maybe he could help you too?”

“Nah, stuff like this requires the Eredore Guard to get involved, not some dude who is the master of some esoteric fighting style.”

“Well, I’m still going to contact him. The more people involved, the better.”

“You do that.”

They were both silent for several seconds before Brandon spoke again. “I want to say that everything will be okay, but I don’t think I believe that myself right now. For all I know, after I do what I will do, he could kill thousands. Millions.”

“We’re not. Sacrificing. Evan,” Marvain growled.

“Of course not! I’m just saying, be prepared for things to get worse, much worse.”

“Ugh,” Marvain said, putting her hand on her forehead. “You should have just said everything will be okay.”

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“I’ll say it when I actually believe it. That way you know I mean it. But know this. I am nowhere near giving up. If I can find the smallest chance to thwart Zandith, I’ll take it.”

“Only if it doesn’t cost Evan’s life,” Marvain added.

“Or yours, or mine. Yes, that goes without saying.”

“Okay.” She thought for a moment. “Do you have anything else?”

“That’s all I have for now. Call time’s almost up anyway. Well, one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The call ended. She pondered those last words. That was another thing to write in her journal. She felt something when Evan said that to her, but hardly anything with Brandon.

She tried contacting Domrik, but the call went to his voicemail system. She left a message saying that both her and Brandon had encounters he will want to know about, and to contact her when convenient.

Having nothing else to do for the evening, she relaxed her body on the bed again, wanting to take a nap. As if cursed, her wrist pad rang again just as she was drifting off. This time it was an unknown caller.

She picked it up. “Marvain here.”

A middle-aged male voice spoke on the other end. “Hello, this is Duke Dargunjar. I happen to be one of the few qualifiers allowed to participate in the Rivercrest Mansion auction. I don’t know if you are aware, but I just got a notice that it has been cancelled. Now, I called the organizers of the auction and they said to call you. Please, for the sake of the Lord, tell me that this is a mistake.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth. “I’m very sorry sir, but that is not a mistake. The mansion has been sold to a Mr. Damron Wellfire as of today.”

“I cannot believe this!” he roared. Marvain had to move her arm farther away from her face to avoid hurting her ears. Duke continued, “I trusted you. Do you have any idea how hard I worked to make the money I did to afford that place? I have had seven stress-induced ulcers in the past eighteen months. This was the perfect place to get before my grandson is born, but no, you screwed it up. What happened? He bought you out, didn’t he?”

“Someone representing him threatened my life and forced me to sign a stolen contract,” Marvain said plainly, incredulous that she had to explain the situation again. “If you have a problem with that, then I don’t care how much money you’ve made. You don’t deserve that place.”

“He did what?” Duke sounded genuinely surprised.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” she seethed. “Mr. Dargunjar, the world is full of nasty people. Today I met one of them and nearly died. If you want to accuse me of corruption because I’m a victim of blackmail, then please fuck right off.” If she ended up fired because of that statement, then at least she’d go out with a bang.

“No, no, no. If you’re telling the truth, then we can start and investigation against him and file a case. We can get the mansion back,” he said with mild excitement. “How did he acquire the contract?”

“First of all, the mansion wouldn’t be yours yet. The auction would still need to happen. I have no idea how he acquired the contract. The guy looked like he was just an AetherTech employee.”

“Did he have red curly hair, freckles, and a name of Denny?”

Marvain gaped. “Do you mean Dennis?”

“Yes, that’s it. He was the one who threatened you?”

“Yes, how do you know?”

“The same guy visited my place a couple days ago to fix a problem with the power.”

Marvain sat up on the bed. “That’s exactly why I had him called over to the mansion. Did he do anything suspicious at your place?”

“He was acting really stiff, but Paul had said he was a new guy, so I just chalked it up to nerves.”

“I can tell you one thing,” Marvain said. “That wasn’t nerves, that’s the behavior of a psychopathic criminal. He’s also an extremely powerful Aether Mage.”

“That explains another thing. My dogs are never hostile to anyone, but when he came over, they went nuts. They either wanted to attack him or run away. Also, my wrist pad was acting funny after he left. It was slow to respond to my commands. I had to restart it.”

“Check the contract. Do you still have the contract?”

“Let me see… yes, it’s still there.”

“He must have copied it from you. Duke, I think we’re onto something. Let me send you the contact of a police officer I know. He’s seen this type of activity before. If you experience anything else suspicious, don’t hesitate to contact him.” She sent him Hector’s contact through the call. “Again, I’m sorry you had to go through this, but now it looks like we can do something about it.”

“Certainly looks like it,” Duke admitted. “I apologize for my anger earlier. Seems like we’re both victims of the same dude.”

“I’ve been told his real name is Zandith, but before then he’s been known as the Phantom Scythe.”

“And this guy is an AetherTech employee?”

“Not for long. I’m about to tell Paul what I think of his new employee.” She mentally chastised herself for forgetting to contact Paul after the encounter. Every minute that guy worked for AetherTech was another minute of potential terrorism. “In fact, I’ll add him to this call right now. Give me a moment.”

She pressed the button to call Paul. It ringed for a couple seconds before he picked up. “Hello?”

“Hi Paul, it’s Marvain. There’s some one else on the call as well.”

“Duke here. We have a few things to say about your new mechanic.”

“Okay, well make it quick,” Paul said. “I’m about to arrive home and I have to make dinner for the family.”

Marvain got up and paced around the bedroom. “Your new employee, Dennis, is not who you think he is. He—”

Paul cut in. “Hold on. Dennis? I didn’t hire a Dennis.”

Marvain stopped in her tracks, then yelled into her wrist pad. “Yes, you did! He stole the auction contract from Duke and forced me to sell the mansion to Damron Wellfire.”

“I seriously have no clue what you’re talking about. I sent Derrick over to your mansion. Duke’s house was Derrick’s first assignment, in fact.”

“What does this Derrick look like?” Marvain closed her eyes to picture Dennis. “Kinda short, red curly hair, and freckles?”

“No, definitely not.” Paul sounded amused. “Derrick is tall and muscular with a crew cut. Just hired him out of college.”

“Paul, there was no Derrick over my place,” Duke stated. “I met the same guy Marvain did.”

“I find that hard to believe, Duke, since you left Derrick a five-star review.”

“I did what? No, I didn’t. I never give reviews!”

“You did this time. I’m looking at it right now,” Paul said. His car door closed in the background. “You said “Great service. It was done quickly and efficiently’. That was four days ago.”

“Unbelievable, that is fake!” Duke shouted.

Paul continued. “Marvain left a review, too. Just an hour ago, ‘He was very easy to work with. He restored the power and even fixed a bug with the security system’. Five stars.”

She pressed her palm to her forehead. “Uh, yeah, I amend that to zero stars and change the comment to, ‘He is a threat to everyone around him and should be apprehended immediately.’ Paul, you have to believe us!”

“I’m sorry you two, but on my end there’s zero evidence of what you claim. Duke, was your power issue indeed fixed?”

“Yeah…” Duke admitted reluctantly.

“Okay, great. Marvain, did he in fact restore power to the mansion?”

“Yes, he did, in addition to almost killing me.”

“Do you have any physical injuries that would be evidence of that?”

She gritted her teeth as her hatred for Dennis’ cleverness grew. “No.”

“Then what else can I say?” Paul demanded. “From my end, it looks like you two are the ones planning something devious, not Derrick.”

“Paul!” Marvain begged. “How long have we known each other?”

“It may have been a few years, but I’ve learned the hard way that anyone is capable of stabbing you in the back. I should know that, now that I’m on my third marriage and doing my damnedest to maintain it. Speaking of which, it’s time for dinner. Don’t call me again unless you have something of substance to give me, otherwise you two are going to be accused of fraud.” He left the call without giving them a chance to respond.

Marvain stood still as a statue in her bedroom. Her arm fell to her side, too tired from holding the wrist pad up to her face. Her voice was hardly a whisper. “Duke…”

“Huh?” His voice was shaken.

“What do we do?”

He didn’t respond. She spoke again with desperation, “Duke, what do we do?”

“I… have even more bad news,” he muttered. “He said he wanted something of substance, so I took a look at the security footage of my place four days ago when Dennis was here.”

“And?”

“It’s not Dennis. It’s the exact description he gave of Derrick. Tall, athletic, crew cut. It even shows me shaking his hand when he arrives.” His voice took on despair. “We have nothing. Who are we dealing with, Marvain? Is it even worth it to resist him?”

She sat down in the bedroom lounge chair. “The only thing I can think of is the contract. We need to prove that the selling of the mansion on this day breaks the contract.”

“Yes, good. That has to be it… What!?”

Marvain jumped, staring at her wrist pad. “What is it?”

“The date on the contract is fifteenth at 3PM! Today!” Duke started breathing hard with rage. “The real auction date is the twentieth. He didn’t just copy the contract, he changed it.”

“That’s impossible,” Marvain said. “Aren’t the contracts encrypted?”

“They’re supposed to be!”

“Do you know any of the other bidders? Maybe their contracts haven’t been tampered with.”

“It doesn’t matter if they are or aren’t. Once they see the official notice that the mansion was sold, they’ll get outraged as well, but then they’ll blame you like I did.”

“Duke.”

“Huh?”

“I’m scared.”

“Aye, me too. I need a beer.”