Rogue - Chapter Two

         Seth! His mother’s voice reverberated unwelcome inside his head. Seth, wake up! It’s time for breakfast.
Seth groaned and rolled onto his back. He hated it when she did that. Just because she had telepathic powers didn’t mean she had to use them for every menial task. How hard was it to walk up the single flight of stairs to tell him to get up?
With a sigh, he opened his eyes and sat up, his head groggy from sleep. Sunlight streamed through the open window into his small bedroom. Clothes were strewn across the carpeted floor and over the side of the bed. A single sock hung from the motionless ceiling fan above. A stack of books teetered on a short nightstand, set there because of a lack of space on the shelf in the corner.
Seth untangled himself from the covers and padded out of the room on bare feet, crossing the hallway into the bathroom next door. He showered, the hot water cascading over his body, fighting the last remnants of sleep.
When finished he towelled himself dry and peeked in the mirror. His damp hair was short and pale blonde, sticking every which way from the abuse inflicted by the soft towel. He combed it with his hand, wrapped the towel around his body, and went back to his room to dress.
When Seth ran down the stairs a few minutes later his family was already seated in the kitchen. Seth’s mother glared at him as he entered.
“You're late. Again.”
“Sorry,” Seth said. “I slept in.”
She opened her mouth, about to launch into one of her famous lectures, but her husband reached over and covered her hand with his.
“Sandra, this is not the time for lectures and arguments. We need to celebrate.” He grinned, procuring a fold-up party hat from his pocket and setting it on her head. The number 40 shone in bright gold lettering, matching Sandra’s long blonde hair.
Sandra remained stiff in her chair, her back straight as Seth made his way around the table. “Happy birthday, mom,” he said, hugging her narrow frame. She relaxed, smiled, and hugged him back.
“Thank you, Seth,” she said as he took his place at the table, across from his brother. He ruffled his sister’s shoulder length red hair as he sat beside her. No one knew why her hair was red, since neither of her parents’ hair was, but everyone agreed it matched her fiery personality.
“Did you get a haircut, Lil?” Seth asked.
She giggled. “You know I did. You cut it.”
Seth gaped in mock surprise. “Did I?”
“Yes! With a scissors. And you did a terrible job so Mom had to do it all over again.”
“Oh, right, I remember now. Hey, it wasn’t bad for my first time.”
Lily opened her mouth to respond, but Mason cut her off. “Enough of that, let’s eat. I’m famished.”
Lily glowered at Mason across the table. He raised an eyebrow, peering at her over the rims of his glasses. Mason was a younger mirror image of his father, Andre. They were both medium height, both stocky, with the same dark brown hair on their heads. The only difference was that Mason’s hair fell in front of his eyes while Andre’s stuck up in every direction. He looked like a mad scientist.
         Sandra served breakfast, sizzling fried eggs covered in bits of ham, greasy strips of bacon fresh off the stove. Seth’s stomach growled in anticipation as everyone was served.
When they'd all cleared their plates, Sandra gathered the dishes and placed them in the sink, turning the tap to fill the silver basin with soapy water. She glanced up as the others rose from their seats.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “I expect you all back here by 6:00 for supper. Sylvia Gray is bringing cake and ice cream for dessert, so you'd better be on time if you want any.” They nodded assent and left the room, Mason and Lily heading upstairs to their bedrooms, Andre to his study, and Seth through the glass sliding door leading outside.
Seth made a face as he stepped onto the deck. Sylvia Gray was a middle-aged widow from down the road. She lived with a dozen cats in an old rickety house that always smelled of garlic. Her husband had died decades earlier, only a year after the two had married.
         She was also the most annoying woman to ever walk the earth.
         Unfailingly rude, she had a choice word for anyone she met, from children to elders to government officials. Seth loathed her frequent visits, escaping into the woods whenever she dropped by.
         But Sandra held a genuine fondness for the woman, so Seth kept his opinions to himself.
         Sylvia was one of the few family friends the Dawsons had in the area. They didn't mingle with their neighbours often and therefore tended to live solitary lives.
This wasn’t because they were solitary people. The Dawsons were known for their outgoing tendencies (except perhaps Mason, who enjoyed the solitude of his bedroom). No, the Dawsons didn’t mingle like ordinary people because they were by no means ordinary.
They were all Nether, meaning they were part of the magical world hidden from most people. Seth recalled a poem his mother had told him years earlier, about the different six different races of Nether:

Mages with their flames so bright,
Ice to freeze, water to bite.
Storm and earth in strength and power
Causes foes to cringe and cower.

Warlocks have the gift of words,
Incantations, speech like swords.
Call down sleep or death or pain,
Brew a storm to make it rain.

Telepaths, you’ll often find,
Speak with voices in the mind.
They sense power with a touch,
Feel emotions, wants and such.

Enchanters craft hilt and blade,
Swords and bows expertly made.
Carved with glyphs for strength and might,
Making steel and iron light.

Illusionists make you feel
Warm as fire, cold as steel.
Change your sight, your smell, your taste,
Turn your world to ashy waste.

Seers have the gift of Sight,
See visions in dreams at night.
In pictures and words untold
They a future world behold.

Seth had first heard the poem when he was young. He’d been afraid of the dark, and Sandra had told it to him in soft, hushed tones to get him to sleep. It hadn’t worked. The formless ideas of ice and pain and death had kept him up all night, filling his head with images of ghouls and monsters tapping on his window.
He’d gone to his father early the next morning. He still remembered the conversation like it was recorded in his mind. Andre always had a way of explaining things so Seth could understand.
A person’s powers are only a tool for him to use,” Andre had said, “like a sword or hammer. The powers themselves are neutral. A sword in itself isn’t evil, but a person can use the sword to commit great wrongs. The same is true with power. It can be used for either good or evil.”
         “Are there any more kinds of Nether?” Seth had asked. “Other than the six in the poem?”
         “There are rumours that more may exist,” his father said, “but they are likely just that. Rumours.”
         “You don’t believe them?”
         “No.”
         “Why not?”
         “Well, if other races did exist, they would surely have revealed themselves by now, and their existence would be common knowledge.”
         Seth guessed this made sense, though he liked the idea that there were more than only six races. “What kind of Nether am I?”
         “We don't know yet. Your powers haven't manifested.”
         “I hope I'm a Mage, like you and Mason.”
         His father smiled. “That may very well be. Nether children often take after their parents.”
         Seth plunked down on the sofa with a huff. “I wish I had my powers now.” He didn’t want to wait. He could see himself already, throwing balls of fire and rock at invisible enemies.
         “Don't worry,” Andre said, smiling. “They’ll manifest soon enough.”
         And three years later, they had.
         Seth remembered sitting at the dinner table with his family, eating a round of dessert. A harsh ringing had erupted in his ears, growing louder and louder until he blacked out. He woke lying on the floor with a splitting headache, unable to hear anything save the ringing in his ears. Andre had carried him over to the couch and set him down, placing a wet cloth over his brow. Underneath the pain, he felt the oddest sensation inside his head.
         He could feel the presence of the people around him, his parents and his brother and sister. He couldn't read their thoughts exactly, but he felt their moods; Mason and Andre were worried, Lily confused, Sandra filled with a knowing calm. He'd found it annoying at the time, had wished the newfound ability would go away.
         The ringing in his ears had abated, and he’d heard his father speak. “What's wrong with him?” he’d asked, his voice panicked.
         “Don't worry,” Sandra had said, smiling as she placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “He’s manifesting. He's a Telepath.”
This had disappointed Seth. Telepathy had always seemed the most boring power. Who would choose to feel people’s moods when you could have the control of the elements at your fingertips? Or the ability to teleport in an instant wherever you wanted to go?
After a while, he’d learned telepathy was about more than communication. He could sense the slightest shift in other people’s emotions, could tell when someone was angry or dishonest, could use their feelings to manipulate them. With this came all the freedom in the world. Or it would have, had his mother not been equipped with the same powers and therefore able to see through his little mind games.
All this ran through Seth's head as he left the house, his shoes thumping on the wooden deck. He sighed as the warm summer sun washed over him. Bounding down the stairs to the backyard, he made a beeline for the narrow game trail worn into the forest ground.
The day shone bright, and it took Seth longer than usual to hike the length of the trail. There were so many distractions in the woods, so many things to see. It seemed wasteful not to stop and enjoy them.
Thirty minutes later he crested the final rise of the path, arriving at his favourite part of the forest.
The ground ended, dropping off into a steep cliff that fell fifty feet before levelling out. Seth could see for miles. The landscape stretched in a low valley filled with dozens of kinds of trees: maples, spruces, willows, oaks, locusts, and some Seth didn't even know the names for. In the centre of the valley flowed a single stream, Old Man Creek, its water gurgling along in lazy twists. The morning sun hung low in the sky, bathing the valley in its glow and awakening a myriad of colours.
         Seth inhaled the forest scent, leaves and grass and dirt mingling on the light breeze. He admired the gorgeous view for a moment, enjoying the peaceful silence, broken only by the rustle of the leaves in the trees and the occasional sound of chattering birds.
         A blast echoed, startling Seth. He sighed in frustration.
         Not again.
         The blasting started a month ago, when a new quarry opened half a mile away. Most days it was quiet, but sometimes the explosions would shatter the peaceful air, ruining the forest’s serenity. It would last for hours, new blasts going off every few minutes.
         Seth hated it.
         He’d always loved the forest. It was his escape, the place he went whenever he was angry or sad or frustrated. Or when he just wanted to be alone. The quiet beauty never failed to calm him down.
         So long as nothing exploded.
He huffed and turned toward his favourite tree. An old willow, still growing though it had been split years earlier by a bolt of lightning. Its separate halves, once standing prominent in the sky, rested on the ground. Their branches flowed in every direction.
Seth jumped onto the trunk of the willow and climbed, higher and higher until he reached a spot where the branches split off in a V. He wedged himself in, fitting his body against the hard bark. From one pocket he removed a nearly-finished carving and a sharp whittling knife. Resting his head on the mossy bark, he set to work.

When Seth returned home late that afternoon the inside of the house had transformed. Balloons and streamers hung from the ceiling in colours of silver and red and orange. A small stack of presents sat on the table, a heart-shaped birthday cake beside them. Dinner was sizzling on the stove. Seth ran upstairs to his room to wrap his gift.
When he returned to the kitchen Andre, Sandra, and Lily were already seated, along with a middle-aged woman. Sylvia Gray. Her hair was long and silver, flowing around her shoulders down to her waist. She was slender, with a thin face and pointed features. Her eyes were dark, foggy blue.
Sylvia was a Seer, one of the few Seth had ever met. Although, in Seth’s opinion, she never predicted anything substantial enough to earn that title.
“Hi, Ms. Gray,” said Seth.
She looked up. Crinkled her nose. “Hello, Seth. Still haven't stopped growing, I see.”
“Oh, I know, I keep having to buy him new pairs of pants,” Sandra said. Seth rolled his eyes in exasperated amusement. Sylvia said the same thing every time she saw him, though that was nearly every week.
Seth set his present alongside the others and sat down. “Where’s Mason?”
“Still in his room,” said Andre. “I'll fetch him.” He rose to call up the stairs for his son.
“That boy needs to get out more,” said Sylvia as Andre sat back down. “He's pale as a sheet. It can't be healthy being holed up in his room all day. Young boys need exercise. Why, if he—”
“Sylvia, please keep your opinions of my son to yourself while under my roof,” Andre said, his expression unruffled. Sylvia flushed and mumbled under her breath.
Loud thumps sounded as Mason tromped down the stairs and sat beside his sister. Lily turned to Seth, a glass jar appearing in her hands.
“Hey, Seth, look what I found outside.” She showed him the jar. Inside was a large moth, its wings an intricate pattern of red, yellow and blue. It munched an oak leaf.
“Hey, that's pretty cool, Lil,” he said. “Where'd you find him?”
“He was outside by the edge of the swamp. I'm going to name him Roxy.”
Seth grinned. “That's a good name for a moth.”
“Enough chitchat,” Andre said, rubbing his hands together. “I’m famished, let’s eat.”
Supper smelled delicious, meaning Sylvia had made it since Sandra wasn't a very good cook. A large dish of chicken parmesan sat in the centre of the table. Soft noodles covered in thick tomato sauce, with bits of meat mixed in. A layer of cheese melted on top.
Seth’s stomach rumbled in anticipation as the enticing aroma wafted through the room. Everyone helped serve, layering noodles and sauce on each plate before digging in.
“So, Andre,” said Sylvia after all the plates had been cleared. “Are you leaving for Arahwen again this year? I heard the council was meeting in a few months.”
“You heard correctly,” Andre said. “The council’s meeting, but I'm not sure I'll be going again this year. Those meetings are rubbish. They spend the entire week squabbling about meaningless things like petty crimes and portal laws when there are much more pressing matters to deal with.”
“Like what?” asked Sylvia, frowning in mild interest.
“Well, like the vampire problem in the south, for instance. Their numbers are increasing drastically and more and more reports of vampire attacks are coming in. The Telepath House is working overtime trying to contain the problem, yet most of the Venasia refuses to even address it.”
“What's a Venasia?” Lily said. “Is that a person? Like Anastasia, or Cinderella?”
“No,” Andre said, smiling. “It’s the Nether government. Made of six different Houses, one for each of the Nether races.”
“So why can't the Telepaths get more support for the vampire problem?” Seth asked. “Can’t they – appeal for a new law or something?”
Andre leaned back, steepled his forefingers by his lips. “That’s a difficult question. Do you know how the Venasia works?”
         Seth shook his head.
         “Isn’t there a certain number of seats in each House?” said Mason. “You can buy a seat, and everyone who has one is allowed to vote.”
         “You’re partially correct,” Andre said. “Everyone with a seat in the Venasia can vote, but there’s no limit to the number of seats allowed in a single House. Mages and Warlocks are the most common of the six Nether races, so those two Houses are much larger than the others. Larger than the other four combined, in fact.”
Seth drew invisible circles in the grain of the table with his finger. “I still don't understand what that has to do with the vampire problem.”
“I’m getting to that. Since the Mages and the Warlocks outnumber the other Houses, they hold all the power. They make all the decisions in their favour, and no one can do anything to stop them. All they see is the Telepath House managing to contain the problem, not the stress it’s putting on the members.”
“So, they're trying to contain the vampires on their own?” Mason said.
Andre ran a hand through his brown hair, making it stick up even more than usual. “Not entirely. The Illusionist and Enchanter Houses are doing what they can, but they aren't much help in this sort of situation.”
“I didn’t know it was such a big problem,” said Sandra, frowning. “Maybe you should go to council this year. It could do some good.”
“I doubt that. A single person doesn't have much sway at a council meeting.”
“Still, I think you should go.”
“Are you on the Venasia, dad?” Lily asked.
“No, here in Canada we’re a little too far from the capitol for me to have a seat. And we couldn’t afford one, anyway. It’s only for the rich and the wealthy.”
“Oh.” She stared down at her plate. “So we aren’t rich?”
Andre smiled. “I’m afraid not.”
“All right, enough with all this heavy talk,” Sandra said. “Who wants cake?”
Everyone wanted cake. Sandra cut out six slices and handed them around the table. As they ate Sandra attacked the pile of gifts. Andre gave her a beautiful golden necklace imbued with a glyph of drowsiness. “Oh, thank you, Andre,” Sandra said. “This will help so much with my insomnia.”
Mason and Lily had bought their mother books, the sappy romance kind she liked so much. Sylvia had brought a large handmade quilt covered in landscape designs and pictures.
Sandra opened Seth’s present last. She tore away the wrapping paper, gasping when she saw what was inside. “Seth! It’s beautiful!” In her palm sat two wooden elephants, a mother and a child, their trunks intertwined. Seth had spent hours carving the wood to perfection, sanding it as smooth as butter and painting every detail by hand.
Sandra gave everyone a hug, tears in her eyes. “Thank you all so much. I love –”
The doorbell rang.
Andre frowned. “You weren't expecting anyone else, were you, love?”
“No,” Sandra said. “I only invited Sylvia.”
“Hmm – I wonder who that is, then? Seth, go answer the door, will you?”
Seth stood and walked around the table, through the sitting room to the front entrance. He threw open the door.
Standing on the porch was a tall girl with jet black hair falling to her waist, curling in lazy spirals at the tips. She wore dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt with a sports logo on the front. A silver falcon with outstretched wings and eyes made of bright crimson gemstones hung from a thin chain around her neck. She had an agelessness in the way she looked, but if Seth had to guess he'd say she was about twenty. Her features were sharp, high cheekbones set under bright grey eyes.
She was also breathtaking.
Seth stared at her a second too long. Recovering, he leaned against the doorframe. “Hi.”
“Hello,” she said, glancing at a slip of paper in her hand. She looked up, frowning. “Are you Andre Dawson?”
Seth cocked his head. Something was strange about this girl, something he couldn’t pin down. He shrugged mentally, ignoring the sense of abnormality swelling inside him. “Do I look like an Andre Dawson to you?”
The girl blinked. “Depends. What does an Andre Dawson look like?”
“You tell me.”
“If you're Andre Dawson, like a pig-headed smart aleck.”
“Ouch.” She’s a bold one.
She shook her head, exasperated. “Look, are you Andre Dawson or not?”
Seth grinned. “Ah, I'm just messing with you, don't get all worked up about it. The guy you're looking for is my dad. Do you need to talk to him?”
“Yes, I do, if that's okay.”
“All right, I'll go get him. Don't go anywhere.”
“Wasn't planning to.”
Seth grinned again and spun on his heel, heading back to the kitchen. Everyone was still seated when he entered.
“Who was at the door?” Andre asked.
“A girl. She's still there. Says she wants to talk to you.”
Andre frowned. “What’s her name?”
“I don't know. I didn't ask.”
With a sigh Andre stood and left the kitchen, Seth following close behind. When they reached the door, the girl stood right where Seth had left her.
“Hi,” she said when she saw Andre. “You’re Andre Dawson?”
“At your service. How can I help you?”
She peeked past him into the house. “I'd rather not talk out here in the open. Is it okay if I come inside?”
Andre frowned. He looked her up and down, a finger on his chin. “I guess.” He stepped aside.
She entered and Andre closed the door, turning to look at her. “So, what's all this about?”
“My name is Rees,” she said. “Rees Ravenna. I'm a friend of your brother, Theodore.” Andre nodded, and Rees continued. “I have a bit of a – a problem, I guess you could say, and Theodore said you could help me.”
“Me?” said Andre, his eyebrows raised. “How would I be of any help?”
“Your brother said you had an extensive collection of books on magical creatures,” she said. “He said it was a sort of passion of yours.”
That was true. Andre had hundreds of books outlining every type of magical creature, from unicorns to phoenixes and everything in between. He knew everything about them; where they lived, what they ate, what magical properties they had. He studied them in his free time, determined to crack one of the greatest mysteries of the Netherworld: why the Netherless, the non-magical population, couldn’t see magical creatures.
Seth had never understood the appeal. Most of the books were filled with lines and lines of text outlining every minute detail about the animals.
Andre nodded. “That’s correct. What does it have to do with your problem?”
Rees glanced at Seth. “Is it okay if we talk somewhere more private?”
“All right,” said Andre with a slight frown. “We can talk in my study. Seth, go wait in the kitchen with the others.”
“But –”
“Go,” Andre said, and Seth left, his cheeks flaming. He glanced back to see his father enter through the study’s heavy door, Rees close behind. She gave Seth a parting look, the sun streaming through the nearby window illuminating her face. She looked surrounded by a bright aura of flame. Then the moment passed and she disappeared into the study, closing the door behind her.
When Seth returned to the kitchen the dishes had been cleared away and everyone sat talking in undertones, except for Lily, who had vanished. They looked up as he entered.
“Where's your father?” Sandra asked.
“He’s talking to Rees in the study,” said Seth.
She stared at him. “Rees?”
“The girl at the door.”
“Ah,” she said, nodding. “Well, we were about to play a game of Monopoly. Want to join?”
Seth didn't have anything better to do, so he consented. By the time Andre and Rees emerged from the study nearly an hour had passed, and most of the paper Monopoly money sat in front of Mason, who looked smug.
Well, more so than usual.
Everyone looked up as Andre entered the kitchen, Rees following close behind. With a jolt, Seth realized what had bothered him about the girl earlier. Being a Telepath, he could sense the presence of other people’s minds, feel their emotions. But not with Rees. Everyone had a light inside them he could see, but someone had shut hers off.
Andre addressed the room. “Everyone, this is Rees. She’ll be staying with us for a while.”
Sandra stared at her husband as if he'd gone mad. “Staying with us? You've just met the girl and you're inviting her to stay in our house? She's a complete stranger. No offense.” She glanced at Rees.
“None taken.”
“Sandra, Rees is a very good friend of Theodore’s,” Andre said. “I sent him a message and he confirmed everything she told me. If he trusts her, so do I.”
Sandra folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t care what Theodore said, I don’t want some girl we barely know staying in my house.”
“It’ll only be for a little while,” Rees said, hurrying to reassure her. “And I can pay for room and board. Don't worry, I won't be any trouble. You'll barely notice I'm here.”
“Can’t you stay in town?” Sandra asked. “There must be a motel or an apartment up for rent.”
“She has a problem I'm helping her out with,” Andre said. “It’ll be easier for us to work together if she's close by.”
“Still, I’d prefer if –”
“Sandra, may I speak with you, please?” Andre asked. “Alone?”
Sandra paused, nodded once, and crossed to the sitting room, Andre close behind. Everyone else sat in awkward silence, shooting covert glances at Rees out of the corners of their eyes. She stood leaning against the doorframe, examining a fingernail and pretending not to notice.
In that instant Seth realized what exactly had bothered him earlier about Rees. Being a Telepath, he could usually sense other people when he opened his mind to it. Their life force, their emotions. But with Rees, there was nothing. No small spark of light that usually accompanied a human presence. She was just…blank.
“Well, you’re a skinny one, aren’t you?” Sylvia said, pulling Seth from his thoughts.
Rees looked up, one eyebrow raised. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. Girls these days, they’re barely more than twigs. Nothing but skin and bones. You ought to get more meat on those thighs of yours. Much more attractive, if you ask me.”
Rees stared at her, blinked, her mouth open. Seth stifled a laugh with his hand, disguising it as an unconvincing cough. Rees narrowed her eyes at him. The conversation lapsed back into an uncomfortable silence. Seth stood to pour himself a glass of water, more to alleviate the awkwardness than anything else.
Sandra and Andre returned from the sitting room minutes later. Everyone looked up as they entered.
Sandra pursed her lips, one had on her hip. “Andre and I have talked it over, and we’ve decided Rees can stay.”
Rees’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? That’s excellent news. Thank you, Mrs. Dawson.”
“Sandra. Please, call me Sandra.” She put a hand on Mason’s shoulder. “These are my sons, Seth and Mason. And that's Sylvia Gray, a family friend.”
Rees nodded to each of them in turn.
“Are you hungry?” Sandra asked, gesturing to the cake on the counter. She seemed determined to make up for her previous misgivings by acting a proper hostess.
“Oh, no thank you, I just ate,” said Rees, taking a seat in the chair opposite Mason. Seth immediately sat beside her. Mason gave him a look, both eyebrows raised with a slight smirk. Seth rolled his eyes and studiously ignored him. He glanced at Rees; she hadn’t noticed the exchange.
Sandra leaned over, examining the falcon around Rees’s neck. “That's a pretty necklace.”
Rees looked down at the piece. “Oh. Thank you.”
“May I see it?” Sandra asked, holding out her hand.
Rees hesitated before sliding the thin chain over her head and placing it in Sandra’s outstretched palm.
“This is…exquisite,” Sandra said, eyes wide as she examined it. “And old. It’s very detailed.” She looked at Rees. “Where did you get it?”
Something crept into Rees’s expression for a short moment, but it vanished before Seth could identify it. “From someone very dear to me,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Sandra didn't pick up on Rees’s tone. “So, what's this problem Andre’s helping you out with?” she asked, handing the necklace back to Rees.
She hesitated before answering. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. It’s…well, it’s rather confidential.”
Sandra raised her eyebrows. “I see.” Her eyes darted to Andre. Seth had no doubt she'd drill his father on the subject later, but she didn't pursue it at the moment.
“What are you?” Mason asked. Everyone looked at him.
“Sorry?” said Rees.
“What type of Nether are you?”
“Oh, I'm a Warlock. Like my mother.”
That got Seth’s attention. He’d never met a Warlock before but had always pictured them as eccentric people with layers of fancy clothing and jewelry, like they always had in storybooks. Rees was anything but eccentric. She looked normal, devoid of decoration save the amulet around her neck.
Mason opened his mouth again, about to ask another question, when a voice spoke from the edge of the room.
“Who are you?”
Seth turned to see Lily standing in the stairway door, her head cocked to the side, staring at Rees with a curious look on her face.
“Lily,” Sandra said, “don't be rude.”
Lily, ignoring her mother, walked up to Rees. “Who are you?” she asked again.
“My name is Rees,” said Rees. “What's yours?”
“Lily. Isn't Rees a boy’s name?”
She smiled. “It’s unisex. And Rees isn't my real name. It’s a nickname.”
“What's your real name?” Lily asked.
“Ryssa,” she said. “My real name is Ryssa.”