TRAIN [FIRST DRAFT]

Chapter 10: The Images

They knew her plan and had an idea of when it would play out, but still could not understand one thing: what was the purpose of blowing up an entire continent for the scrape of a chance that you would spend time with the daughter who officially despised you?

"But my birthday is months away," commented Aimee. "Abba made it seem as though we had to act with immediacy."

"I don't know... what we do know is that you need to rest," he reminded her of her exhausted state. "I'll talk to Buckley about this and come back, I promise."

"What about Celeste?"

"She could start on the floors," he half joked. It did not matter to him how she wished to kill time.

Aimee gave him a look of disapproval, "Fine. Let me walk you out."

She jumped off of her bed and walked to her door, which she remembered had to be unlocked. Stefan's distaste for Celeste, in some complicated way, upset Aimee. She had just lost her best friend and she felt misplaced. She already missed Emma; she did not have her anymore. And at the moment, she did not even have her parents to talk to. Gavin, well, he had been acting incredibly strange. She just needed someone she could trust and Celeste was the closest thing to that.

Aimee trotted downstairs, but came to a sudden stop halfway down the flight. Celeste was in the foyer, looking at the family photos on the coffee table. She spun around in alarm, and quickly rubbed her hands together as though for warmth, as though she had washed the dishes in an ice bath. Stefan stood a step above Aimee, watching Celeste calculatingly. Before Celeste spoke, she made certain that she had rid all evidence of her vulnerable expression and the tears that had accompanied it. Tears fuelled by a secret, one she could not hold nor bear to tell.

"I finished the dishes," she quickly stated, facing Aimee, still rubbing her hands like an insect. "I was just looking at the images you have of your parents."

"Okay," she replied, glancing first at Stefan, and then Celeste.

"So you're leaving, to train for Domino Doomsday?"

"You know about Domino Doomsday?" queried Aimee, her words quaking with the sudden, dreadful thought that she might have endangered herself and Stefan both by letting Celeste into her home.

"I just know that Abba wants you in France when it happens."

"Is that really all you know?" asked Stefan, as he swerved down the stairs and approached her. Aimee followed. "Talk to us, Celeste," he uttered, standing face-to-face with the girl and staring her down.

Discreetly, he ascertained whether or not there was something she was holding, or hiding, in her palms. She had her hands dropped incontestably at her sides, not in her pockets, as she peeked over Stefan's shoulder and at Aimee.

"Your boy's got a temper," she told her.

Stefan's searching eyes abandoned her hands, "No, I just don't like or trust you," he stated, smiling boldly.

Aimee drew nearer, "Just answer him," she demanded.

Celeste glanced between them as if they were police that she was to escape from, "Why should I?" she asked, but her nervousness was imperceptible.

"Would Abba be pleased if she knew that you're living with me instead of kidnapping me? She did already pay you to do so."

"If I tell you anything, she'll be even madder."

"But I won't be mad," she replied and stepped between her and Stefan, right up to Celeste's toes. "And I can tell you now; I'm a lot more dangerous than my mother."