So Night Follows Day Pt. 03

"And this is all about that word you said back then? Springheel?"

"I'd foolishly hoped you'd have forgotten it." Helen said with a sad smile. "I know you've Googled it at least, Troy. What do you know?"

"I know about Springheel Jack; a monster from English folklore that Americans sometimes confuse with Jack the Ripper because of the names. A bat-winged beast with a man's face, said to be able to leap great heights and distances. It terrorized women walking alone at night. I'm guessing that it's not the real creature that we're talking about."

Helen reached for her cigarettes before remembering where she was. She took a deep breath, instead.

"Not quite. And it's time I told you more, but when we rejoin the others. I don't want to have to go through it again for Julie and Susan." She thought a moment. "Fuck, I don't think I've even shown Mander yet, come to think of it. The short version is 'It's something that both I and the man who tracked down Frank Morgan and paid his widow and children a million euros just for the effort of trying to kill me, want.' I'm told they would have gotten five million if he'd succeeded."

"A hitman who couldn't hear, Helen." Troy told her. "So you couldn't command him to stop. Because the man who hired him knew that you could do that to one who could hear you."

Helen reflexively reached for her cigarette case again, then backed off from it.

"Yes, Troy. He knows I can do The Thing!" She took the burner phone out of her purse. "Frank Morgan's widow gave me this in Ireland, a week after you guys left. The next night, back at the castle, he called me on it. Gave me the whole 'What's your favorite scary movie" song and dance. He figured it out, he staged an incident so that he could see it in action, and then realized 'Hey, what if the assassin can't hear her commands?''' Helen looked down again.

"There's something else."

Troy nodded. Helen reached for a smoke a third time, then went into her purse and pulled out the worry beads that Propappou had given her long ago.

She held them between her index and middle finger and began clacking them.

"He knows your name, Troy. He said it to me. That's why your neighborhood is full of Ultimados right now."

Troy said nothing.

Helen waited. She knew that one of his biggest fears was that her world would come crashing down on his doorstep. He feared it so much that Helen feared it as well, did The Thing or spent large amounts of money to keep their names out of things; and now she'd made the fear real for both of them. She had no idea what to expect next.

She'd planned on shouting, considered panic. Although Troy had never raised a hand to her in anger, and she knew in her heart that he never would, she would completely forgive the last living man whom she loved if he stood up and backhanded her at this moment. If her first boyfriend walked over to the display case, took out her invitation, hurled it at her, and told her to never contact them again; she would spend the rest of her life in tears, but would walk away forever from the only family she'd known before Vincenzo and Maria.

Troy did none of that. He rose to his feet. He looked down at Helen. She held her arms to her sides, awaiting the judgement of the only man whom she permitted to judge her.

She dropped the worry beads onto the bed. He'd probably want those back, too. Tell her to never think of herself as Helena Medina again, and return all of Propappou's things they'd sent her after he died.

Troy picked up the file. He set it on his nightstand and sat next to her. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed the top of her head.

"Ok," he said. "I can't say I never considered this possibility, Helen. I know you do everything you can to keep the media from digging into your oldest friends' lives. However, someone drawing a line between you and us was inevitable. I mean, you've named San Finzione's hospitals, runaway, and women's shelters after Propappou! Byroni Medina has a Wikipedia page because of you, Helen."

"I keep it updated." Helen said, still trying to tell the tears behind her eyes that they wouldn't be needed, as he resumed.

"And when we were on our way to you, a bunch of old friends from Alaska that I hadn't heard from in years called to see if we were ok and if we were still in touch with you and knew anything. We never got to take you to Greece to meet the rest of the family, but they all know about Propappou's Petalouda Mikro and they called me, too. We've always been a worse-kept secret than the urban legends that Contessa Helena de San Finzione is some kind of witch who can make others obey her commands. Forced to give it serious thought now, we've always been anyone who cares spending ten minutes on Google away from being connected to you."

"I don't think he knows about Susan." Helen said, looking up at him. "He said 'those two' were safe, as long as I play ball. He might have seen you at the hospital."

"Or he could have seen me out walking with Susan in the Marketplace or anywhere else and think she's my wife. Either way, you and one of the two of them, and myself are in danger. You know what that means."

Helen backed out of the hug and stood up.

"Yes. I have to go."

Troy took hold of her wrist and gently pulled her back down onto the bed.

"No, Helen. It means the opposite of that. It means we're a part of this now. Contessa Helena de San Finzione is NOT alone in the world. You're not going to keep us under house arrest with the Ultimados, if that's what you were planning. You didn't ask for us to be in this, we didn't ask to be in it, but the fact is, that's what's happened. And it sounds like none of us are safe until whatever is going on is over. So, no pushing us away."

He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a deep kiss.

"We love you, Helen. How can we help?"

She reached into her purse and pulled out a flash drive.

"Well, I guess we should start," she replied. "By telling you everything."