Located in Boston were the headquarters of a logistical company known as Five-Wind Shipping. Though the company was small, the fact that they were a magical shipping company and therefore able to making use of golems and teleportation magic, meant that they were able to occupy enough of the market share to operate nationally and lord over most of the other second and third-tier shipping companies.
Seated in one of the topmost offices of the Five-Wind Corporation’s main building was a red-headed woman. Evelyn Wallace, the current head of the Wallace family, current CEO of Five-Wind Corp. The faint wrinkles that lined her face undid the hard work of the age reversal serums and charisma boosting elixirs she’d taken over the years. She was dressed in a crisp, cream-colored suit, and had her pointed nails painted egg-shell white.
She was currently deciding between two proposals that could both potentially raise the efficiency of the company and protect its bottom line. The first proposal was a plan to gradually shift their equipment for newer models of delivery golems which would be expensive in the long run and potentially dangerous to the company if anything happened during the transition period.
The second proposal was a simple plan to alter the order processing procedures and make a less costly purchase in computers. The only issue would be that the end goal of the proposal would be a mass lay-off of much of the company’s processing staff once the computers and other workers made them extraneous.
One plan was risky but could come with a big reward. The other plan was safer, but came at the cost of losing some goodwill with the community and company’s current employees, and would have a lesser effect even in the case of success.
Evelyn sat with her pen in hand. Biting her bottom lip as she looked between the two proposals. Eventually, she decided to go with the safer option. Making a side note that measures would need to be taken to offset the loss of goodwill created by the layoff. Even if they couldn’t 'not' fire the people who would be effected with the plan, smart public relations would hopefully be able to spin things to their favor.
Having made her decision, Evelyn placed the other proposal in the stack of paperwork awaiting disposal and set the accepted proposal in the stack of paper awaiting scanning and transmission to the various other executives in the company who would fine-tune the plan’s execution.
With her task done, Evelyn decided that she’d earned herself a break. Between the various meetings she’d had to take part in during the day, the report she’d had to write concerning issues with the company’s third-quarter performance, the day had been a busy one.
Evelyn pressed a button on her phone, calling her secretary who was located just a floor below.
“Colleen, if it wouldn’t be too much bother, could you make a call out for lunch, for me?”
“Yes, ma’am. Where would you like to order?” said secretary Colleen.
“Mhm...Oh, that sandwich and soup place the other day was good. Get me that. You can get something for yourself as well if you’d like.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Right away, ma’am.” said Colleen.
When the line went dead. Evelyn sat back in her chair. Arms crossed and uncrossed because she’d never quite comfortable inheriting the chair from her mother. Her mother was a harsh woman, cold and demanding. Sometimes Eveyln imagined that the ancient high-backed chair held a bit of her spirit...It wasn’t a pleasant thought. The last thing Evelyn wanted to think about was the prospect of her mother still “watching over her”....judging her.
The food arrived. Colleen came up with the bags. Evelyne thanked her and sent her on her way. Then after the brief hub-bub, Evelyn was left on her own again. Left to her own devices in the big, cold, drafty office. Normally the woman would have been too busy working to notice how unpleasant it was. Now, however, Evelyn was aware and it made her feel a bit lonesome.
She glanced over at her desk and spotted a picture that had come with the desk and she’d never quite worked up the will to throw away. It was a picture of two red-haired girls. One with hair like blood, the other with hair like fire or foxtails.
It was a picture of Evelyne and her sister Margaret. Though their mother had been bull of a woman, made of meanness and ambition and spite, if there was anyone in the family that old Elmira Wallace could have been said to have been fond of, it would have been Margaret.
Funnily enough, Evelyn never minded, any pangs of envy that she might have felt were quickly killed once it became clear that her mother’s affections came with a double helping of her haranguing and unreasonable expectations.
Margaret turning down her expected role as the future head of the family had come as a shock to everyone except Evelyn for the simple reason that Evelyn had been close enough to both her mother and sister to see that Margaret had hated Elmira in equal measure to Elmira painful and persistent love.
It was just bad luck that the old-timers, the old dyings in the family who’d become something other than human and watched the clan from a place a little outside the realms of reality still favored Margaret. Favoring her talents. Her strengths. Her hidden ruthlessness. Favoring the one child born from Margaret’s womb over all four of the children born from Evelyn’s.
Thinking of her childhood led to thinking about her children. Thinking about her children lead Evelyn to consider when the last time she’d called them was. It was usually her husband Joseph who kept up with the kids. The relative smallness of scale and shortness of breath of the projects he headed and oversaw for the family, left him with more time to spend with them.
A small voice in the back of her head chided that she was just making excuses and the truth was she was just as dark-hearted and brutal as her mother had been and keeping her distance was her way of protecting both herself and the children from that realization.
Evelyn let that thought bounce around in her head for a bit before gritting her teeth and deciding to prove the voice wrong by calling one of them. She couldn’t call Jasper, her eldest. He was at work as an administrative aid in the Massachusetts Statehouse. It was only a little after 1 PM so the youngest, Chloe would likely still be in classes.
The twins Bernadette and Beatrice, her middle children, would likely be available. Evelyn considered calling her daughter Bernadette and quickly discounted the thought. As much as Evelyn hated to say it, Bernadette reminded Evelyn of her sister, only...bitchier.
Meaner and wilder in ways both perplexing and frustrating, for Evelyn. It went without saying that things were somewhat strained between Evelyn and that particular daughter.
A perverse voice within Evelyn assured her if she could just pull the girl into line, Bernadette would make an excellent family head one day. A voice that Evelyn bucked against, repulsed by the similarity that this path would have to the one her mother walked. Horrified at the possible implications it might have for her grand-children if history repeated itself.
Thus by process of elimination, the call would go to Beatrice. Calmer. Clever minded. Pliable Beatrice. She was the one that Evelyn favored most. The one that most resembled Evelyn.
Evelyn chuckled to herself ruefully, well aware that five out ten times whenever she had time to check in with her kids the call generally went to Beatrice.
Evelyn picked up her phone and called Beatrice.
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Over in Provostburg, a young woman with purple-blue hair sat amidst a group of friends made up men and women of similar age and one red-headed woman who shared the same face as hers. The identical duplicate sat in the center of the group telling a story.
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“So Devawn was all up on this barista chick that Michelle invited to the party and I’m just waiting to see if Devawn and Michelle finally start flinging spells at each other because they’ve been feuding since year one.” said Bernadette “Bernie” Wallace. Regaling her friends with an exaggerated tale concerning something she’d seen the Saturday on the previous week.
“Oh, I saw that shit…” said one of the youths. A young man with his hair cut low, and a single skull-shaped earring made of black crystal dangling from his ear.
“You were there, Zhi?!” said Bernie. Brows scrunched as if she were trying to remember something far off.
“Hell yeah, I was there. I paid for half of all the beer you clowns drank that night.”
“Then why didn’t I see you tagged on any of the pictures that were posted from the party?” said Bernie. Her expression skeptical.
“I actually was in some of them...just not the ones that got shared a lot, and I was the one who took the pic of Jeff when he went all teenwolf.”
“Nh? Oh! Yeah...I think I remember seeing you now.” said another of the youths. Pull out his smartphone and trying to find the picture the other youth had mentioned on his profile wall.
“Really? You paid for half the beer?...Let me guess. Steve told you he’d pay you back for the rest when he was good for it.” said Bernie.
“Er...Yeah. Why?” said Zhi.
“....Sucker! Even if the dude technically comes from one of the richest families in the county, Steve Blackfyre is always broke. Everyone knows that.” laughed Bernie.
“Nah, it’s cool. I’ve known Steve since grade school. I pretty much know where all his proverbial skeletons are buried. Steve won’t do me dirty like that.” said Zhi Yating. Speaking with a little less confidence than his words would suggest. His friends all smiling and shaking their heads.
“Maybe...Maybe not. Anyway, if you were there then you must have seen it, right. The whole blowup between Devawn and Michelle.
“Oh, you mean the one over that chick Justine? Man, I was feeling so sorry for Steve. His parents didn’t know he was borrowing the house and if those two started fighting, you just ‘know’ somebody was going to call the cops and Steve told me that his parents told him that the next time they had to chat with the police about some shit that he was at all involved with he was getting cut off.”
“Ha, serves that asshole right.” said Bernie.
Seated to the side of the group was Bernie’s twin. As she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket she excused herself and stepped away.
“Bea Wallace speaking. Who may I ask is calling?” said the milder of the Wallace sisters.
“Oh, Beatrice. How are you doing, kiddo.” said a familiar voice. Instantly dampening the young woman’s mood because time had taught her that nothing good ever came from getting a call from the person on the other end of the line.
“Good evening, Mother. I am doing fine. I hope you are well.” said Bea. Swallowing a sigh.
“Oh, mummy’s fine. Just finishing up some work at the office. How are you and your sisters?” said Evelyn.
“Chloe seems to be doing well in the middle school division of St. Csilla. Bernadette is well…”
“...Bernadette. Yes, I am well aware of your sister’s lack of interest in the academic. I’ll have your father have a talk with her later.” said Evelyn. Sighing helplessly.
“But seriously how are you doing, honey?” said Evelyn.
“Um...I’m doing fine I guess. I got an A-minus in Organic Alchemy last week and I’ve been keeping that up for most of the semester. So my grades should be fine.”
“Excellent. Excellent...Well, I would love to see you turn that A-minus into an A-Plus but still good work as always.”
“Th-, Thanks, mother.” said Bea. Relieved that her mother hadn’t asked how the rest of her grades were doing. A cold dread filling the pit of her stomach as she thought about the C she’d gotten in her Advanced Paranormal Biology course.
There was a lull in the conversation and for a moment, Bea found herself feeling expectant. Hoping that her mother would say that something had come up and she couldn’t chat any longer. Hoping that the phone call would end without something troublesome happening.
Unfortunately, it seemed that Bea was hoping for far too much.
“Beatrice…?”
“Yes, mother?” said Bea.
“How’s your cousin doing?” said Evelyn.
Technically speaking, Bea had at least six cousins that Evelyn could be asking after. Her father had a number of siblings and they lived scattered throughout the country. Alas, Bea was quite clear that there was only one cousin that her mother could be asking after.
“You mean, Margot?”
“Yes, dear. Your cousin Margot. I heard she received some unfortunate news a few weeks ago. Some quack doctor told her that she might only have a few years to live. Utter hogwash of course. I mean even if she’s gotten a bit frail over the years that doesn’t mean she’s going up and die...In any case, when’s the last time you’ve spoken to your cousin?” said Evelyn unaware that she was babbling. Unaware of the strain that was leaking out from her voice.
“I…” Bea swallowed. She’ been about to say she’d spoken to the girl just a day or two ago. However, the lie got stuck like a fishbone in her throat. As far as she knew Bea was the only one in her family that felt any guilt about their treatment of poor, mopy, cousin Margot.
The guilt eating Bea up inside till eventually it turned to resentment. A sharp dislike for the girl in mention as well as a resentment towards Evelyn who’d somehow taken the civility with which Bea treated the family’s whipping girl as a type of kinship.
“I...we may have chatted a few weeks ago.” said Bea going for a lesser lie.
“Ah, that’s no good. What if the poor dear’s getting bullied again? We wouldn’t want another incident.” said Evelyn.
Bea was forced to swallow another sigh. Wondering exactly how clueless her mother must be to: A) think that anyone would be so bored as to continue finding trouble with the little nobody when they were all busy doing their damndest to avoid flunking out from the academy, and B) not know that the incidences in high school and middle school had all been started by Bernie who’d been the main ringleader of the girl’s who’d bullied Margot during her youth.
If Bea felt dislike for Margot, then Bernie seemed to have always hated the girl for some reason. A deep and inexplicable burning animosity that might have had something to do with the fact that Bernie’s magical core might not have ignited at all if it weren’t for Margot’s “donation”, when they were children. Meaning that at the end of the day, any praise that young Bernadette ever garnered for her skill and talents were in essence stolen praise.
“I...She’s probably fine, mother.” said Bea. Struggling and failing to keep the whine out of her voice.
“Now, Beatrice. I rarely ask anything of you kids. All I want you to do is pop in and check how she’s doing.” said Evelyn.
“Mother, I really don’t think this is…”
“POP IN AND CHECK HOW YOUR COUSIN IS DOING.” repeated Evelyn. Her tone making it clear that this was no longer a mere request.
“...Yes, mother.” said Bea. Crumbling.
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Hours later, Bea would take the elevator up one of the older, more rundown, dorms in the school. She would be accompanied by her sister Bernie, because misery liked company and despite being the quieter twin Bea had enough mean tricks up her sleeve to keep her twin in line.
“Man, I don’t know why you made me come. Mom asked you to go check on the family’s resident wet-blanket, not me.”
“We’ll you’re here. So stop bitching about it, okay.”
“Tch, I don’t know why mom keeps checking in on her. She has no magic. She’s already dying. I’m pretty sure she’s no longer our problem.”
“Mom said that report was just a lab error and that’s she’s already seeking out a specialist to get a second opinion.”
“What so we can find out the little bitch is gonna die in months not years? Mom’s just saying whatever like usual...Plus I think she might be scared that aunt Margaret might come home one of these days and try to kill us all if crybaby Margot actually ends up croaking.”
Bea rubbed her temple and groaned.
“Look, will you just shut the fuck up and try to be civil for once in your fucking life?! I already have a fucking headache from talking to mom and I don’t need to deal with your shit too.”
“Hey, no one’s asking you to deal with my shit. I didn’t even want to be here remember?” sniffed Bernie.
“Bernadette Lorana Wallace if you say another word do believe I can’t set your entire collection of your you-know-whats on fire? I mean fuck-me, for as much as you make fun of cousin M, your as big a weeb as she is.” hissed Bea.
“....I’ll be good.”
“Thank you...Finally. Fucking thank you.”
The two stepped out of the elevator. They walked down the long. Mostly empty. Creepily quiet hall. Then they reached Margot’s door. Bea knocked once. She knocked twice. She knocked three times.
“Hey, Margot. Are you in there? It’s me, Beatrice.” called Bea.
“Hmm, no one’s home. Do you think mayhaps we should have called before just showing up like a couple of assholes.” said Bernie.
Bea narrowed her eyes at her sister. Her red hair rattling and whispering like it was made of snakes. Technically Bernie might have had a point but it’d cold day in hell before Bea admit that out loud.
Instead, Bea simply pulled out her phone and called a number she hadn’t called in three months. Forced to dial the number because her aversion to Margot was so strong she didn’t even want the girl’s name as a contact in her phone.
Bea held the phone to her ear. Expecting for the other side to pick up admittedly because as rude as it was to say, her cousin Margot never had anything going on. Either she was in the library, or in class, or in her dorm watching anime and playing video games. Doing her best to escape her sad reality.
Normally a phone call from anyone would be answered immediately. A younger Bernie had once made sport of the girl, using a voice changing spell and a number spoofing app to pretend to be a telemarketer selling various ludicrous products.
The girl had never hung up even once. Whether it was because Margot was just too mild or she was just that lonely was anyone’s guess, but Bernie and her friends had definitely gotten a laugh from it.
Now though, now, Margot wasn’t answering. Bea stood at the door. Listening to her phone telling her that the number she had dialed was no longer in service. After a moment of indecision, Bea decided to simply open the door. As one of Margot’s emergency contacts she was one of the few people who knew the door code.
Bea opened the door to Margot’s room and stepped inside to find it completely empty. The floor was free of furniture. The shelves and closet empty. The bed left sheetless.
“Um, where’s Margot?” said Bernie.
“I don’t know, sis. Maybe she’s up your ass and around the corner? Or maybe she’s out fucking that guy you’ve been crushing on, Tom something? Or maybe I fucking ate her?….Why are you asking me, bitch!? Does it look like I fucking know where she is?!” said Bea. On the brink of a meltdown. Her voice rising in volume as panic set in. The stark awareness that this whole situation would somehow become her fault making the twenty-year-old girl tremble.