End of the Beginning [Five]

Fourteen

You can be reincarnated for a day as any living or historical famous person. Who do you choose?

Emery was only slightly tipsy when he left Klaus early the next morning. They'd spent much of the remainder of the night drinking wine and whatever fancy name they found on the menu that they couldn't pronounce even if they tried. Emery had drunk at first only to forget the burning worry and rage that still weighed heavily on his shoulders. He was worried about Five and kept checking the time on the wall almost as if waiting for the boy to come storming in out of the blue.

Klaus had teased him at first, about him and Five— of how Klaus had always predicted they'd get together, even back when Five was complaining to him about bringing in an 'outsider' into family affairs. Their conversation digressed and then Klaus had ended the night by offering to babysit Adele while Emery carried out his own rescue mission.

That was providing that Five was in any trouble at all, Emery had reminded the man but Klaus merely scooped Adele up in his arms and waltzed out of the nearest pet-friendly restaurant they'd found, and promised to look after her.

Emery's hand was already bringing out his journal from his alternate self by the time Klaus disappeared out of sight, voice singing out some song Emery didn't know the name of.

He searched for clues in the pages. As he endured more and more of this new awaiting apocalypse, he was beginning to understand more of his notes; give them meaning where there had originally been what looked to be chicken scratch.

And yet nothing gave him any clue on how to find Five or how to find another train station entrance again. He walked aimlessly, regretting not asking where Lila lived. That would be most logical. Maybe with among her other powers gained from Ben's marigold, she'd somehow still be able to teleport even without Five nearby to mimic.

He was walking down a fairly busy street now. One of those where everyone seemed to flock around for a specific set three or four hours a day before abandoning it like a ghost town. Here, a bagel shop, here a food market, here a glass repair shop, and near the end, a Hargreeves Enterprises natural wildlife gallery.

Emery glared at the shop as he passed. Most buildings in town were owned by Reginald. The man seemed to be literally everywhere, seemed to own every nook and corner— even the goddam stores whose only job seemed to be to sell one particular herb and one particular herb only.

The shop's outer exterior consisted largely of large windows that showed some of the framed photographs within and Emery's lips curled in disgust as the main exhibition seemed to be a study of the stages of a most excessive kill.

A large eagle had stopped in to kill a small deer. Peaceful at first as it dove, until the next photograph showed the eagle sinking its fangs into the deer's neck, the next showing the inside intestines of the prey as the predator changed its course, more and more vile they seemed to grow until the last frame.

And then Emery was pausing as he stared unapologetically at the last frame. It was wholly and entirely grotesque but the splayed dead dear that was now beyond recognition reminded him of something. Of one of his journal entries listed simply: The Dance.

Coincidentally, the same name that belonged to the series of photographs.

Swallowing thickly and sobering quickly, Emery stepped inside, feet taking him to the sequence of photos.