Power Corrupts. Insanity Cures.

Chapter 27. Rest In Peace

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Chapter 27. Rest In Peace

"It's crazy because people expect you to be funny all the time and every day is not a funny day. I go to funerals and people are like 'tell a joke' and 'say one of your lines in a movie.' It's a funeral, man!"

- Chris Tucker

Serena could feel the hum of the train beneath her feet, and if she leaned her head back on the window her brain vibrated. The slight swaying from side to side as the train moved along the tracks felt more violent when she closed her eyes. She let the sensations buoy her, even the voices in her head being partially overpowered by the rocking motions.

This wasn't the first time Serena had been on a train since Agnes Barkers. To get from A to B, they used every mode of transportation available to throw off those chasing them. She knew Taras hated taking the train because of her, but she couldn't help it. She liked striking up conversations with the other passengers, maybe play a few mind games and freak them out a little before they stumbled out for their stop. Taras would be hovering near, carefully measuring her words to make sure she didn't say anything too revealing or threatening. Nothing that could draw suspicion. 

But today Serena sat still and silent, not making eye contact with anyone. Taras was still looming, leaning his weight on a handrail in front of her, but he too was pensive. They both pretended his thoughts weren't filled with concern for her.

In the cursory glances the other passengers gave them, Serena knew what they saw. Their clothes stood out as 'different'. Taras was in a heavy black coat, formal pants and shiny shoes. She was in a sensible black pant suit, black heels and hair tied in a tight bun. Large dark sunglasses hid her eyes. They were clearly either FBI agents, vampires or mourners going to a funeral. Except for one paranoid drunk in the corner, everyone else guessed the answer correctly. Serena supposed there was a certain depressed air about them.

"This is a bad idea," Taras muttered, forehead creased.

Serena pretended not to hear. He'd made his feelings on the matter clear enough already. Only a handful of minutes had passed before he sat beside her.

"Serena," he murmured, "From what you've told me, your father sounds like a man mixed up in some heavy things. He's rich, famous and he's just been tragically murdered. Everyone's going to want a slice of the drama. Going to his funeral will bring a lot of attention to us that we really don't need."

She dug her fingers into her knees until it stung.

"He made it sound like he was heading off to an underground bunker because the world was set to explode," she whispered, "And now someone's killed him and I have no idea what's happened to my sister."

His mind rolled with doubts.

"If this was Ivan," she argued, "If your brother was missing and the person who was looking after him was dead..."

"We don't know if anything has happened to your sister."

Serena shrugged helplessly. "I need to find out for sure. I...I wish I didn't feel anything for her," her voice wavered, "but I do."

He stared at her. "Why would you wish that? She's your sister."

She couldn't form the words, didn't want to. She stared out the windows and forced the conversation to a stop. How to describe what she was feeling inside? How could Taras understand what it was like? She was basically marching straight up to the house of the girl she used to be, and would do anything to scourge from her memory, and knocking on the door.