CHAPTER FOUR: FADED MEMORIES

Flame poked his head from behind the corner, waiting anxiously for the door to open. 

Suddenly, it swung open, and Alexandra stepped out, her eyes glued to the screen of her phone. She slammed the door shut behind her and turned the key in the lock. 

She typed in one final text before shoving it in her bag with the key, rushing down the corridor and past her nephew seated on the floor. 

He watched her disappear around the corner and sat quietly until he heard the clacking of her heels fade into the distance. Then, he scrambled to his feet, stumbling towards her study. 

With determination painted on his face, he pulled out a pair of hairpins he’d borrowed from Blaze. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he knelt by the door and bent one pin slightly before inserting both into the lock. 

His fingers moved quickly, twisting and prodding until he heard a click. He grinned triumphantly. 
Who said one needed a key to open a door? 

The door creaked open. 
He looked around cautiously before crawling in, gently closing the door behind him, careful not to make a sound. 

He stuffed the hairpins into his pocket and glanced at his watch. He had a few hours until she came back. 

He sprang to his feet and glanced at the room, his eyes widening in disbelief. What happened? 

The books on the shelves weren’t in their usual order. There were pieces of paper on the floor, her desk, her chair, scattered everywhere but the paper bin. 

He stepped towards her desk. It was like the aftermath of a hurricane. 

He traced his fingers along the wood. He knew that if he asked, his aunt wouldn’t tell him what happened. She always lied to him; covering up every half-baked story with another false smile. It was almost as if she didn’t want him to know anything... especially when it came to his mother. 

For most of his life, he’d lived under the illusion painted by his aunt and uncle that he was their son. That his cousin was his sister. That he was a part of their family. 

It didn’t help that whenever he was upset or sad, Alexandra would be by his side, wiping away his tears. 
It didn’t help that whenever he got hurt, lost his way or was bullied, Oliver would be there to save him. 

“I can’t believe I was disappointed...” he chuckled bitterly. “In a man who was never my father to begin with.” 
It was ironic. 
How just as the only father he ever knew disappeared; the truth about his life began to haunt him. 

He found out Alexandra wasn’t his real mother. 

All she told him was that his real mother – her sister – died in a car accident when he was a baby. She never explained how she came to adopt him or how his mother died. It was always too ‘sensitive to talk about.’ 

So, he stopped asking. 

Instead, he taught himself to steal; to pick locks; to sneak around behind her back. 

He didn’t care if she told him the truth or not. 
Either way he’d find it himself – or at least he tried. 

All he found were faded family pictures of his mother and aunt. No adoption papers, no death certificate, no diaries, nothing useful. It was almost as if his aunt wanted to forget her. 

Flame heaved an exhausted sigh and scanned the desk, wondering if he should give up. 

His stare froze. 
A newspaper article, dating back to 2006, stuck out from underneath his aunt’s cheque book. He carefully pulled it out, analysing it carefully. 

“Missing girl...” he read slowly. “17-year-old Ashlynn Speed has been reported missing. She was last seen in...” 

His eyes went round. 
“Mother?” 

He began skimming through the article, trying to make sense of it, when he caught another headline from the corner of his eyes. 

“Shadows?” Flame muttered to himself. 

He gently replaced the newspaper under the cheque book before leaning down to the floor to pick up the second paper. 

16th August 2009... that was the night his mother died. 

“The last we will ever see of the Shadows,” he whispered. “And of Ashlynn Speed.” 

He stilled in silence. 
“Mother?” 

*** 

Maxwell Banker dragged himself up the stairs, one step at a time, clutching the railing for support. He stifled an exhausted yawn. Night shifts were a job for the rookies, not police chiefs. But his hands were tied. 
The GCFS – especially their director – weren’t people you say no to. 

“Victor must be pretty worried if he asked me to keep an eye on those kids,” he mumbled sleepily. “How much damage can six siblings do anyway?” 

He reached the top of the staircase and stretched his arms, letting out another weary yawn. He walked on over towards a white door, decorated with golden designs. He rapped on the wood, patiently waiting for his daughter’s response. 

“Come in,” chirped two voices. “The door’s open.” 

He smiled warmly and opened the door. 
“I didn’t know Ms. Speed was visiting today.” 

Chloe giggled. 
“I told you last night, Dad. Blaze is coming over for dinner tonight!” 

“Is that so?” Max chuckled. “And what of poor Flame?” 

Blaze shrugged. 
“It’s not my fault he didn’t want to come.” 

“Maybe you should ask him to sleepover with Tim!” Chloe suggested. “Maybe that’ll get him out of his situation.” 

“Situation?” Max raised a suspicious eyebrow. “What situation?” 

Blaze shot Chloe an accusing glare before turning to Max. 
“Well, everyone knows that Tim and Silver have been under their aunt and uncle’s care since the Garnet Fire,” she said slowly. “But everyone also knows that their aunt and uncle adopted those kids earlier this summer.” 

Max nodded, the smile vanishing from his face, he knew about the siblings all too well. And the Garnet Fire. 

“Well,” she continued. “Silver and Tim never really liked spending time with other people, especially Tim. So, I assume that suddenly moving in with six people, in addition to the fact that he’d just lost his parents and the only home he’s ever known, will be pretty overwhelming...” 

Max crossed his arms. 
“And Tim told you all this?” 

“No...” Blaze turned her gaze to the bedsheets. “To be honest, it’s not much of a secret. You can see it in his eyes.” 

“I see,” he offered her a warm smile. “I think Tim is lucky to have a friend like you, Blaze. Someone who always looks out for him.” 

Blaze’s lips curved into a soft smile, her eyes lighting up. 
“Really?” 

“Of course, kiddo,” one last yawn escaped his jaw. “I think I’ll take a short nap before dinner.” 

“Rest well!” The girls chirped as he left the room, closing the door behind him. 

A look of concern knitted his brows. The Garnet Fire... 
He yanked out his phone from his pocket, dialling Alexandra’s number. 

“Pick up, Alex,” he muttered under his breath, as he strode towards his room. “Pick up.” 

No answer. They both knew that the Garnet Fire was no accident. They both knew the Shadows had something to do with it. They both knew it was a sign. A sign of her return. 

He huffed sharply, hurrying into the room and locking the door behind him. 

He dialled a new number, holding the phone to his ear and waiting for the person to pick up. 

“Maxwell,” a clear, stern voice answered. “Did something happen?” 

“Victor,” Max whispered gravely. “It’s about the fire.”