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Twenty-Two | Sleep Tight, Clara Stratton

SOTC: Pray For Me by The Weeknd (with Kendrick Lamar)

Polly Christakos.

The Greek motheress running the Christakos ship. If Xerxes clasped the wheel as its dominant captain, Polly was the head of the deck and all unfortunate floors below with a forked tongue with the whip capacity of my third grade teacher's Mrs. Hackleberry's ruler she whipped kids with.

Anything can happen in a Catholic elementary school.

As I followed the maid out my room and through the abyss of hallways, I couldn't constrict my brain around it. What did that woman I first saw after getting brutally kidnapped want with me? What did Achilles', Basil's, Calix's, Damen's, Eros's, and Felipe's mother, Ada's mother-in-law, and Xerxes's aunt want from the leader's assistant?

Suddenly, at twelve o'clock in the morning, the maid opened a grand door, her gesture thrusting me outside.

Um—

Am I getting murdered?!

If I was, it was a long way to get spliced. Under the wastelands of stars and illuminating Suns of light fixtures, the maid led me into the heart of Agios Nikolaos. Domes vibrant in it spillage of turquoise all across them and glistening windows of sure homes encompassed my vision until I was led into it.

A cathedral.

Inside, after a long, drawn-out creak of its large opening, I sauntered into its interior I discovered my vision through candles. Dark wood, highrises constructed hundreds of feet above my head. Below sheltered the vessel to capture every eye. Massive pillars hosted the elevated, lit stage hosting an alter overshadowing any mighty throne. Jesus's cross backdropped the sight of yellow, blue, and other color palates shown through artifact yet luxurious items shining of holiness.

Facing the sight was rows of pews stretching to the entrance. An entrance I once stood at with a maid, but when I turned around, my eyes caught a single foot to disappear in a scurry out the church door.

"Did you regularly go to church before coming here?"

It was from a figure in the very front pew, Polly Christakos. Her sharp, aging voice rattled throughout the church in an echo.

Now is the time to sputter out the gutter, Clara!

"Depends on the time period," came out like my only personality trait was my cringy gasping ASMR with every syllable and I fell for 118 year old virgins.

Not a Twilight reference.

"Sit with me, Clara."

I walked down the aisle and through the front pew, sitting inches away from her.

"Are the meetings going as planned?" Polly inquired.

"Yes, ma'am" I told her after a pause, fixating on a light straight ahead. "Xerxes and I had five meetings with them so far, and the talk of negotiation regarding the transports of oil is closing in for further document. The next few meetings are confirmed."

"How many are left?"

"Eight," I said. "Then the deal is complete. All work will end."

And so will I.

"It seems what is said about you is true."

I spun my head to her. What?

Her stature shifted side to side, resting again. "My children, they like you. Achilles is content with your additions to your conversation, on regular events Basil appears neutral by your presence. Ada, my deity of a Greek woman daughter-in-law, is overjoyed by the new girl around."

I knew I had been getting closer to the Christakos family.

With each Tuesday night of board games and delectables, big sister talk with Ada, each breath they used to vent to me, Basil's fading annoyance at my face, each time Damen and Eros constructed me a flower crown and taught me shreds of Spanish they learned that day, every tug Felipe gave to my dress to concoct an invention I found on 5 Minute Crafts, and then there was Calix.

We were almost these surreal buds at this point, wearing smiles as we walked on boardwalks and talked under the glowing moon donning the quartz walls of the Christakos Mansion. I never had a friend like him in my eighteen years of living.

"Then Xerxes," she said.

That snapped me back into reality.

Polly continued. "When he's not discussing business, he tells me you're a good assistant. That you're a suitable temporary for your time." She sighed. "When my first impression of you was when you were dragged from a table for assault, I was doubtful, but I agree based off of no peculiar evidence."

"I'm glad I'm doing my job correctly," was all so thought to say.

"Why did he choose you?"

I inhaled a knife of sudden panic within my being as I finally responded, "I don't think I can tell you."

Polly nodded casually. "Alright, that is undiscussed."

Jesus Christ, that was close.

Her head hung for a moment before coming up. those chocolate eyes mirroring Calix's now consuming the alter. "Marrying my soulmate and father of my children was the happiest day of my life. The second happiest day was Xerxes's parents' wedding: Vissarion Polzhka and Persephone Christakos. Vissarion was a bulky tempered man from St. Petersburg, eventually working his way up to flee for Greece. That's where his eyes became aflame at the sight of my sweet, nurturing sister. Thirty days later they say those words, get married a month later to be declared leaders of House Christakos, and you know what came after that?"

"What?" I asked.

Polly smiled. "Xerxes. Eight months later." The curve slowly faded as her eyes locked in her knees. "Two years after that, they take an anniversary vacation to Cuba to get away from it all, and Persephone dies in a mass town square shooting. Vissarion hangs himself an hour after seeing her organs slung over a fountain like a washrag. From then on, through the crippling grief and heartbreak, Orien and I who just got married ourselves become leaders of House Christakos and take on a toddler nephew along our other children."

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling the energies of the air between us allowed me empathy, so much I looked down.

"Xerxes as a child made up for it."

I looked back up.

Polly resumed. "Xerxes had the purest heart. He loved horses, cheering up girls, making world maps. Whenever he walked into a room, it was like the Sun radiated life into it in unexplainable methods. His voice encompassed optimism and youth. Everyone loved him and everyone wanted to be him. Basil most of all. Xerxes was one in billions."

There it was again, the stark contrast to the sociopath who's eyes told a suicidal girl an asset to an alliance.

"The government told us when he took the place of Achilles for war that he was going to help soldiers. Give them therapy after going to battle." She breathed out. "Then three years later, my children and I stand near a jet runway. The jet comes down, and out of it comes an officer alongside a man. Hair shaved off, tattoos drilled all over his arms, a poker face. Soulless eyes that could've been the devil's that took Orien away from me. I told the officer, 'You have the wrong man' That he wasn't the nephew I raised like a son. Then the man said with thundering vocal cords, 'It's me, Polly' And showed me a scar on his hand he got when he was five.

"And eventually I found out what what killed the beloved boy of Agios Nicklaos— what they had him do."

"Why are you telling me this?" My voice was lower than the Mariana Trench, like if I went an octave higher, it wouldn't honor the grave of the life in this very church hearing the words of the story.

That's when she looks me dead in the eyes and says:

"Because if that man could eventually come to love himself and a soulmate, you're a pathetic sociopath for wanting a bullet in your head."

My face fell.

"Sleep tight, Clara Stratton," Polly finished, aging features clenched as if I was a maid who set her home ablaze.

Next Chapter Teaser: Xerxes tells Clara a story in his bedroom