The Hades Test

Chapter 20 - Reconciliation

A week later, and our persistent pursuit for proof is barely out of the starting gate.

That's not to say that we don't have our suspicions. The things I have seen and heard all amount to one main suspect. My very own mother heads up the list, with some of Nolan's old friends bringing up the rear. Of course, we can not make any assurances yet, as without solid evidence, our collection of knowledge is circumstantial.

Rain drops slither down the fog obscured window. The relentless water is accompanied by the tick tick of a branch slapping the glass. I track the downward path of a single rain drop, unable to keep from feeling the symbolism in it. The drop, like me, is being pushed down constantly, bending to the will of a great, unseen force. There is an uneasy, ill-contented feeling that has been growing in my stomach; I am not sure how much more of it I can take.

Unable to remain in this pitiful state, I get up and pace about my bedroom. Thinking, my mind tosses itself about the most prominent subjects. I ponder, of course, the mystery of my dear friend's death, but also how it plays a part in my own life.

I trot back to the window and run a hand over its surface. Not for the first time, I ask myself the always unanswered question: why? Why have I been given special powers? Why do I always seem to draw the short stick of life? Why can't I get myself out of this rut? Why?

"I am going out for groceries. I'll be home in half an hour." my mother's words slam into my ears, immediately drawing me out of the clouds and peaking my curiosity.

"Okay." I reply, desperately trying to keep my voice steady. Inhaling deeply, I creep out of my room and down the hall. Poking my head around the sharp corner, I can make out my mother in the foyer. With a thrust, she tugs on a shiny black rain coat and pink boots. She grabs an umbrella from a stand near the door and makes her way out the door. Once she has gone, I follow, peering out the glass in the door as she fades from view.

I sigh, realizing that I must follow into the drenched night.

My suspicion is justified, I think as I grab my own set of rain gear. For one, my mother is a creature of habit, and would never allow her routine to stray far from their ordained paths. It would be blasphemous to suggest she go out on a weeknight for groceries. Combine that with Nolan and I's current assumption, and the fact that her purse has been left to squat on the kitchen counter, means my alert levels are now in the red zone. Also taking an umbrella, I take a step out into the late light of the evening.

I stroll out of our driveway to the road, glancing around when I do. I stop when I realize that I am all alone in the night. Not a single other soul, living or dead, dares to rome in the twilight. The wet, splashing sound of shoes on wet pavement hits my ears. Looking for its sound, I notice a pair of bright pink boots receding into the darkness. Hurrying on light feet, I move swiftly to a safe distance behind my mother. Being not too far, but not too close, I use my limited knowledge of tailing that I have gathered from spy movies to follow her.

Against the darkening cover of the umbrella's fabric, my mother is almost camouflaged into the night. The rain that drizzles down from the sky also helps to hide her body from view. Then again, that also works in the opposite, for my benefit.

The last of the sun light disappears below the horizon, fading into the achromic palette of night. Like a switch has been flipped, my mother suddenly turns, placing a hand on the gate of a yet-to-be seen destination. I lurch into action, taking shelter behind an enclosed bus stop. I take up a look out position. My mother's gaze swivels side to side under a curtain of curls. Satisfied, she pushes through a wrought iron gate. The resulting sound splits the noiseless air like an ax through a frail block of wood. I walk casually up to the gate, my heart doing a double take when I read the sign.