Trying To Heal

Chapter Thirteen

Derek Matthews

It will take days to reach Italy. I prefer travelling by ship rather than the plane. Partially for climate reasons. Partially because it is so common to see sea animals. In the night, the environs are pitched-black. You cannot discern the outlines of your fingers, cannot discern the sky or the smudge of the ship even with the lights on. It is strangely enticing and tranquilising, to be in the middle of nowhere in a void of distress.

Luke, Tanner and Xavier are in the crowded common room. A few strangers peek a glimpse at me as I weave the maze, blinking in astonishment and enlarging their eyes. I hear the whispers of my name.

Xavier is in a cotton Bonheur shirt, trousers, a pair of white, complimenting trainers. His blond hair is neatly combed, and at the sound of my footsteps and the dimming chatter, he peers up above the rim of his tea cup and smirks. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty."

Tanner sets his own cup down on the plate. In dark jeans, the first four buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing his dark, flawless, toned chest.

Luke slides the tip of his ball-point pen along a red line of a folded laptop. "We are going to America after Italy to see the Wilfred Estate."

I have been there once before, when I was twelve.

"With the undercroft under our home, we could find some changes in the old design."

He gives me the laptop. I try to read whatever is on the screen. A few things blur. I put on my black-framed glasses, always clinging to the collar of my shirt. It is a design of Wilfred Estate. Zooming out shows the map of Missouri.

"And the Clybornes?" I ask.

"They do not know," replies Tanner, "and they do not need to."

"I am still surprised the Clybornes are not aware of this," says Xavier. "It is historical. This undercroft has tunnels that spread across neighbouring states. Surely, they must be. I mean, God knows if this could extend to Washington D.C."

"If they do," says Luke, "I have to meet a certain Clyborne at the Summit. If she will be there, at least. Wilfred often talked about one of her grandfathers in his journal—"

A man hurries inside and hurries to our table. Heaving to a stop, he blinks and gulps. "Mr. Matthews, we have a situation." Tanner, Luke and I blink, whilst Xavier grabbed a sandwich from my plate and neatly munched it. The man clears his throat to specify, "Lord Matthews." Judging the paling colour tarnishing the middle-aged man's face, the matter must be grave.

They might have found a group involved in the sex ring in Greece. Finally, the first results in months.

Tanner arches his brows. "That quickly we already found something?"

In French, the man notes, "We have dealt with sex trafficking rings before. The exception with this one is that it is formulated by an elite social circle, which makes it quite harder to solve."

Luke considers. "I do not know if I can go and handle it. The Summit is in Italy."

"Greece is not far," notes Xavier.

Murphy looks disappointed. "Sir, may I speak to you in private?"

He disappears with Luke into a corridor.

I watch them leave. "He thinks he is some kind of anti-hero vigilante."

Xavier furrows his perfect, dark-blond eyebrows. "He is a vigilante."

In German, I say, "So he told you?"

"Ja."

"And what do you think?"