The Mask of New Paris ✓

XXII. Carmody's Residence

Griffin refuses to explain any further and nearly drags us down the road towards his apartment. He ignores Farah and Joane. The latter complains and scolds him, but he merely pushes through until we reach a nice apartment block on a street parallel to the Promenade.

He hurries to the elevator, where he nervously starts rubbing his fingers against each other until the three of us have entered.

"Griffin, are you alright? You don't look..." Joane starts to say but Griffin cuts her off quite rudely.

"Not now, Boudrot. Comment on my appearance once we're inside my apartment." He sneers. Joane immediately shuts her mouth and throws Griffin a dirty glare. Uneasily, I observe him as the elevator slowly makes its way towards the nineth floor. A soft background song echoes against the shiny mirror of the elevator as we remain silent until a bell announces our arrival.

Griffin waits until we all vacate the elevator before he guides us to a deep green painted door at the end of the hallway. When he opens the door with harsh and rushed movements, we quickly enter, eager to figure out what's going on.

To my surprise, the apartment isn't as big as I imagined. Somehow I thought of a great penthouse with grant windows and luxurious furniture in the home of Griffin Carmody, store manager of Jennings. Instead we're standing in a small living room. A worn leather couch covered in dirty shirts and scattered papers stands in the middle. Two small windows give view to the busy street beneath. A sparing in the wall gives us an insight into a small kitchen from where we're standing. In the sink, a cluster of dirty dishes is piled up.

With his hands on his hips and slightly slouched forward, Griffin stalks away from us. He uneasily runs a hand through the mess of hair atop his head. "Please, sit down." He instructs us to which Joane throws a haughty glance at the couch. She and Farah remain standing, but I take a seat nonetheless, trying not to sit down on one of his shirts. An awkward silence takes over the apartment, the only noise the sound of the people on the street below.

Taking a deep, nervous breath, Griffin casts a look in my direction. "I don't know how to say this, Annabelle." He starts. Confusion and curiosity spread through me. Has he found something about Reed?

"I got a call last night... Someone I did not know. They told me about your sister. Judy." Griffin continues as he starts running up and down the small space once more. Hearing my sister's name coming from his mouth casts this heavy feeling over my chest. As if Eauville and New Paris shouldn't be mixed. My two separate lives should not come together in front of a stranger like Griffin Carmody. Before I can ask any more questions, Griffin continues. "They told me to deliver you a message. The Guards should not be warned."

He suddenly marches towards the table covered in dirty plates and bits and pieces of paper. A sock hangs deserted on a chair. Rushing through the papers, Griffin retrieves a hand written note. "They told me to tell you this." He says, walking over to me and handing over the paper as he says out loud what's written in a neat and strong handwriting.

"Judy Mcgoldnick awaits her sister at the Drysdale Plantation. Mrs. Whitacre should quit her pathetic search and come retrieve what's hers. Alone."

Frowning I look at the words over and over again. Could it truly be that the Drysdales took Judy? My sweet innocent, pain in the butt, little sister taken away from Eauville all the way here and for what? Because I messed with the wrong people in search of my husband?

"That's as clear an invitation as it get's." Joane mutters, standing behind me and looking over my shoulder to the scrunched paper. Her voice shakes me awake. "How?" I mumble, unable to fathom how Judy got involved in this mess. As if it couldn't get any more complicated.

"Perhaps it is mere bluff." Joane replies, standing up straight but her eyes tell me she's uncertain about her own statement. Griffin leans against the windowsill before he starts marching nervously once more. Farah casts him dark glares at his nerve wrecking behavior, but who can blame him. He looks miserable. He has seen his friend being kidnapped, spend a night in jail and who knows how far he went into his search. And then suddenly, a phone call changes everything and he's suddenly responsible for the fate of a young girl he has never met.

"I tried to call your home as well. To confirm the disappearance of your sister. But I couldn't reach anyone." Griffin runs a hand over his tired eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in concentration. "I didn't mean to wait this long. Your sister might be in danger and I refused to act unless I spoke to you." He mutters, more excusing himself than anything else.

Trying to fake calmth, I take a deep breath. I force my fingers to curl around the little note and press it to the bottom of my small handbag. Ignoring the ringing of panic sizzling through my ears I stand up, unaware of the concerned looks on both Farah's and Joane's face.

"Looks like this is over." I say, rising my chin until I can look Joane straight in the eye. "For the sake of my little sister..." A tear wells up but I bite it away, fear and anger battling for dominance. The unfairness of it all, it takes its toll on me. "The Drysdales want to meet, well, then I shall join them."

Joane steps forward, her hand snatching her coat from the back of the couch. "I come with you." Before I can protest, she raises her hand and booms loudly "Don't think I do this for you." An angry glare is thrown my way and I am suddenly caught off guard. The sudden turn in Joane's emotions surprise me. One moment she's collected and calm, the next rage is radiating off her golden glow.

"These people are responsible for the death of my father. Maybe they can scare you, but I am not afraid of them." She says, a dangerous smile creeping the corner of her lips. "No matter what they want from you..." she says nodding violently in my direction. "I need to finish them. They will pay for what they've done."

Griffin watches us in confusion, realization suddenly hitting him. "I heard about your father, Joane. I am incredibly sorry for your loss." Mortification clearly spreads on his face as his cheeks turn a vibrant red, showing some color on his pale face.

Joane rolls her eyes in response. "Don't even bother pretending, Griffin. You don't care about it at all."

Silence follows.

"Forgive me, Joane, that I never thought you were capable of feeling miserable. You're so strong and independent. It's hard to fathom your happiness can depend on anyone." Griffin says at last, making the three of us turn our heads towards him. A mixture of emotions is displayed on Joane's features as if she herself has difficulty chosing how to react. At last, she just shrugs.

"Well, let's get moving." She declares and storms off towards the front door. "We get Cilia and then we're off to the Drysdale plantation."