Masked

Chapter Three

        "Who the hell are you?" demanded the man who was sitting next to Allison. I had used my incredible skills of deduction to realize that he must be Diego, that and the fact that he had knives strapped onto his black suit.

        Luckily, as I fumbled for the right words to use in my predicament, Pogo came in. Part of me was thankful, but the other part of me was hurt that he would literally push me outside of my comfort zone, just to come to my rescue when I failed miserably.

        "This is Miss Cassie," he stated. "She has been living here for the past thirty years along with the rest of you."

        "Cassie?" Klaus mumbled.

        Luther spoke up. "Thirty years? What, are we're just supposed to believe that she's one of us? That she's been here all this time and no one noticed?"

        "Uh, yeah. Listen, Reginald was as much my father as he was yours, okay? Pogo thought I should meet you and help plan the memorial service," I snapped, calming down towards the end.

        "Like, ghost Cassie?" Klaus questioned.

        "Yes, yes. . . exactly ghost Cassie! I'm glad you actually remembered that. My bedroom was above yours. That lie was the only way I was allowed to talk to you. . . But please continue the planning. I'd rather go over this some other time."

        They all gave me unsure looks but must have decided that they didn't care at this point. Honestly, weirder stuff had happened. I relaxed from my tense state and walked over toward Luther's couch. All of my siblings were suspicious of me, and I couldn't argue, so I just stood there and let them continue.

        "Back to the oak tree," Luther began. "We used to sit out there all the time. None of you ever did that?"

        Klaus butted in. "Will there be refreshments? Tea? Scones? Cucumber sandwiches are always a winner."

        "What? No. And put that out. Dad didn't allow smoking in here."

        It was Allison's turn to interrupt. "Is that my skirt?" She looked at Klaus.

        "What? Oh, yeah, this. I found it in your room. It's a little dated, I know, but it's very breathy on the bits."

        He walked into the center of our sort of circle and showed it off. I had to hold a hand up to my mouth to avoid laughing. I missed our old chats. Luther seemed like a jerk though. He wasn't exactly friendly to me, I know my story's outrageous, but even to his family, he came off as rude.

        "Listen up. Still some important things we need to discuss, all right?"

        "Like what?" Diego asked.

        "Like the way he died," Luther continued.

        "And here we go. . ."

        The woman who must have been Vanya joined in. "I don't understand. I thought they said it was a heart attack?"

        "Yeah, according to the coroner's report," retorted Luther.

        "Well, wouldn't they know?" she questioned.

        "Theoretically."

        "Theoretically?" inquired Allison.

        I wasn't wholly focused on their conversation anymore. My mind was elsewhere, thinking back to last night when Dad died. He didn't seem to be showing any signs of being ill, not even at dinner. The only weird thing was Mom, but she was a protector. I didn't see where Luther was going with this.