Following the River Styx

Chapter Four

As Cordelia rolled up the driveway at the academy, she noted with a pang the silence of it all; so many girls had gone their own paths for the weekend. Perhaps she would have a few moments with Zoe and Queenie—not that she particularly cared for that. Zoe could see everything in her face. It troubled her, wearing so much on her sleeve, but unlike her mother, she had never grown skilled at blocking her face from betraying her emotions.

She locked the car and took out the CD, stuffing it into her purse with the rest of Misty's artifacts, and clambered out onto the crunchy stone. The car horn beeped once to indicate that she had locked it. Opening the front door, she called, "Zoe? Queenie?" Nothing moved. Upstairs, feet pounded down the hall, and some laughter floated down. Well, at least someone's home, she acknowledged as she took off her shoes. She raked a single hand through her hair and started up the stairs. It was unlike Zoe and Queenie to leave the academy unsupervised while she wasn't home, and while she hadn't asked them to stay, she trusted that they understood the implicit duty she left behind. "Girls?" She knocked on their bedroom door. "Girls?"

Sharp footsteps came down the hall. Kyle wore an eerie flat line upon his lips, not a smile nor a frown. His dull eyes glinted to her as he spoke. "Queenie ran out of potato chips," he delivered in a crisp, cool voice. "She and Zoe went to the store to get some more. They told me they didn't know when they would be back, but that you shouldn't worry. They had things to do."

Fuddling her brow, Cordelia held his gaze for a long moment. "Things to do?" she repeated. The butler nodded once. Her mind reverberated the scene from this morning, seemingly years ago now, when Zoe and Queenie had concealed the book from her. Kyle, though, turned as if to dismiss himself. She grappled for words for a moment. "Kyle!" She trotted after him with clipped strides, and he stopped to wait for her. "What things? It takes ten minutes to get the store and back. How long have they been gone?"

"Zoe told me to tell you not to worry," Kyle advised again. "They'll be back with Queenie's potato chips." He turned to walk away, and this time, when she pursued him, he didn't slow.

Mouth twisting into a distasteful frown, Cordelia cursed that she had ever agreed to hire Zoe's weird, undead boyfriend. "That wasn't what I asked you. Kyle! Don't walk away from me! Oh, god." She stopped to lean on the railing, looking back down into the foyer below. With the heel of one hand, she wiped her brow and cursed under her breath. "I can't catch a goddamn break, can I?" The Supreme heaved a sigh and stormed down the hall into her bedroom. She slammed the door in her wake.

Clothes and other items were strewn about haphazardly where she had torn through the package of Misty's things the previous night and found nothing helpful. With a grunt, she upturned her purse and dumped the contents on her bed. From the pile of trinkets, she plucked her cell phone. She tried Zoe first, but it went straight to voicemail. "Zoe, wherever you are Queenie are, come home. Call me when you get this." Queenie's rang three times before it cut off; she hadn't set up her voicemail, so it left Cordelia no option to berate them for disappearing without a word or reason. "I can't believe this."

She perched on the edge of the bed and glanced out of the corner of her eye at the items that she had brought from Rosemary's home. Her hands grazed the shawl first. It flashed a bright memory of Rosemary and Misty twirling about the kitchen while a record spun onward. Lifting it to her face, she inhaled the sweet scent of Misty's perfume, now faded but still intrinsic to the fabric. Letting go of it, even to place it back on the bed, hurt something within her. She draped it over her shoulders and let the soft cloth envelop her.

The Bible was next. Several post-it notes served as bookmarks, and she thumbed open to the first one. She had underlined a paragraph in black ink. "Meanwhile, all the people were wailing and mourning for her. 'Stop wailing,' Jesus said. 'She is not dead, but asleep.' They laughed at him, knowing that she was dead. But he took her by the hand and said, 'My child, get up!' Her spirit returned, and at once, she stood up."