Inheritance

Chapter 19

After a soothing shower that will probably have the entire house using cold water for the rest of the day, I brush my teeth using a toothbrush I found in the sink drawer - still in its packaging - along with a brand new tube of toothpaste. The my eyes burn as I brush my teeth from the overwhelming smell and taste of spearmint.

After brushing my teeth for far longer than the recommended two minutes I search the basin drawer for anything resembling a hairbrush or comb. Finding a comb I look at myself in the mirror for the first time this morning. My hair's flat against my head, any volume having been slept away. Figuring that flat hair ought to have less knots than poofy hair I attack the deflated bunch with the comb. Suffice to say that attacking my hair without at least testing the knotty-ness was grave miscalculation on my part.

What must be at least ten minutes later I can finally drag my fingers through my hair without inducing tears. I try to work my hair into a low braid, failing miserably. Apparently with all the craziness that's happened I forgot I have layers... and that layers don't work well with braids. Ugh. I give up. I decide to simply pull my hair back in a low pony. Today is not my day. The tiles are icy beneath my bare feet, three-week-old chipped nail polish dotting my toes. Unbelievable, my fingernails need to be repainted every two days, but my toenails seem so never lose their polish, un-bloody-fair that's what it is.

An angel voice echoes through the bathroom, singing some sort of classical piece, is hauntingly beautiful, a familiar face follows the angel voice around the corner of the bathroom entrance. A dark mess of hair follows the angel voice around the corner of the bathroom's doorway. Alia slowly dances into the room with her eyes closed, her voice sweet and pure on the high notes and haunting on the low notes as she slowly twirls around the room. I'm absolutely hynotised. At last the song winds down and Alia spins one last time. As she stops, her eyes pop open and an ear-piercing screech leaves her lips as she realises I'm standing here. "Katei! Didn't your parents teach you not to sneak up on people?" she asks breathlessly. "Uhm... I'm not sure standing here while someone dances into the room qualifies as sneaking up on them," I chuckle. Alia's cheeks turn a darker shade of chocolate as she looks down to avoid my eyes. "You have a breathtaking voice you know? That was beautiful." I catch a glimpse of a shy smile playing on her face. "Thanks," she whispers, "Mozart's Lacrymosa, one of my favourites."
"No wonder, it's beautiful." She finally meets my eyes again, her honey-hued eyes twinkling with pride. "I'm glad you think so. Have you been down for breakfast yet? I heard they made something special for breakfast." I can feel the smile drop from my face at the mention of downstairs. "Uh... No, not yet." Alia doesn't seem to notice my lack of enthusiasm as she asks if we can meet at the stairs after she finishes up.

I wait at the top of the stairwell for Alia to finish up. The smell of pancakes and chocolate waft up the stairs, making for an enticing perfume. Maybe they should get a way to bottle this smell... It'd fly off the shelves faster than it could be restocked. My stomach lets out an unearthly growl. So hungry, I hope Alia doesn't take long. The stairway looks a lot like Sofia's now that I actually see it instead of just glancing over it. The walls are the same dark wood and there are similar portraits with their fancy frames. From here it even looks like the same people, but then again, generations of posing like they were dead inside makes for generations and generations that look quite similar across the world. The only markable difference between this staircase and Sofia's is the railing. There are intricate designs etched into the golden metal. They seem to move in my peripherals, almost looking like words, but when I focus on them they're just the same patterns.

"Sorry I took so long, I kind of got my hair stuck in the hand dryer for a moment there. Had to do some tedious unknotting, but I saved most of it." Alia walks up to me talking animately. Her hair seems a bit frizzed but other than that there aren't any signs of her tussle with the dryer. "You look great, barely bald at all," I tease, earning muself a hearty punch on the shoulder. "As if"

We slowly start to make our way down the stairs, talking about this and that. Turns out the guy talking to Trystan this morning is Alia's brother, twin brother to be more specific. They all grew up together. "Where did you guys grow up?" I ask. Alia gets this dreamu look in her eyes as she answers: "Somewhere, not too far from here." I almost faceplant as we turn around a bend, but luckily Alia is quick to steady me before I end up owning my own spot of ground. "Where is 'here' anyways? Rex couldn't give me a real answer." Alia responds factly, "This is the House." I give her a look that has sent jocks covering their jockstraps in the past. "Ya don't say." She just rolls her eyes at me. Be intimidated!!! Vegan meatballs! "Don't look at me like that. I'll try and explain it... This is like a safehouse-slash-halfway house-slash-B&B. Most of the people affiliated with the Spíti come through here every now and again. Most of the Protectors' and Guardians' kids stay here through most of the year, almost like boarding school. A lot of Semi's and Psy's use it as a place to get together and hang out while most of your G's use it as a stop over when they have work to do with the abantu, it's easier than going all the way home and back, its a lot less strain on the body, seeing as the house is anchored by a natural portal. Does that make sense?" She asks after speaking, what I am sure was Turkish with a few English words thrown in, for two full flights. "Not... Really..." I grimace. "You lost me at Spíti and haven't really found me since." She looks at me with disbelief as we start down the lastset of stairs. "They really haven't told you anything? Are you serious!? Those boys better..." I never found out what those boys better do. Alia got drown out by a massive ruckus that sounded a lot like an out-of-control argument. An out-of-control argument involving two very familiar voices. Alia and I practically sprint down the last couple of stairs. "-ou bloody ill-begotten, maggotbrained, hardheaded, noodle-limbed, talentless , lying donkey. You are the worst excuse for a - whatever or whoever you actually are - I have ever seen!" I'd recognise that voice anywhere, even if I've gone deaf. "Ami!"