Chapter 18: Pursuit and Paranoia
Miranda's face had only appeared for a second, but it was enough. Peterson's heart pounded as he and Jean-Daniel slipped into an alley three blocks from Rue Martineau. They leaned against a graffiti-covered wall, panting. Sweat dripped down their necks.
"She saw us," Peterson said, trying to catch his breath.
"You sure?" Jean-Daniel asked, frowning.
Peterson nodded grimly. "I know my sister's eyes. She wasn't just passing by."
Jean-Daniel glanced around. "Think she followed you?"
"Maybe. Or maybe she's been watching for days. They've been acting weird lately."
Jean-Daniel smirked. "You realize we're running from your little sisters?"
"Hey," Peterson said, holding up a finger, "Miranda may be younger, but she's like a private investigator with sandals. Lethal accuracy."
Jean-Daniel chuckled. "Fair."
The next morning, breakfast was painfully quiet. Amanda and Miranda sat stiffly across from Peterson, neither looking up from their plates. Altagrace hummed an old melody as she moved between the pot of plantains and the dented kettle.
"So quiet this morning," she said, smiling. "Nobody fighting over bread?"
"Nope," Amanda muttered, focused on her tea.
Miranda stared at Peterson. He could feel it. Like lasers.
Altagrace turned to refill the kettle. Miranda kicked Peterson under the table.
He nearly choked. She gave him a hard look and mouthed, "We talk. Today."
After school, Peterson met Jean-Daniel and Wilkens behind the abandoned basketball court. Wilkens had laid out a binder of notes and symbols, pages fluttering in the breeze.
"Your sister's on the warpath," Peterson muttered.
Jean-Daniel raised a brow. "Amanda too?"
"Maybe. I haven't seen her act yet, but she's quiet. That's never good."
Wilkens tapped one of his pages. "You might want to shift focus. Look at this."
He flipped to a page with an intricate veve drawn in charcoal. "I matched this with a legend. It's called the Third Seal of Passage. It's said to grant a link between our world and the Loa's."
Jean-Daniel blinked. "So, like, a portal?"
"Exactly," Wilkens said. "And the medallion's design—it's not just aesthetic. It's part of the key."
Peterson rubbed his face. "I barely understand my system, and now I might be unlocking the spirit realm?"
"One step at a time," Jean-Daniel grinned. "Let's not rush to open a ghost door."
They all laughed, but Peterson didn't miss the unease in Wilkens' eyes.
That evening, Miranda cornered him in the hallway.
"Where were you the other night?"
Peterson hesitated. "Out."
"Doing what? And don't say errands."
"Helping a friend."
"Jean-Daniel?"
He nodded.
"You're lying by omission," she said sharply.
"Miranda—"
"You think I don't know something's wrong? You've been different. And not just tired or distant. Weird. Like… haunted."
Peterson's shoulders dropped. "I can't tell you everything. Not yet."
She softened, just a little. "Then promise me something."
"What?"
"Don't get yourself killed."
He looked into her eyes. "I'll try."
That night, the dream came again. Peterson stood in the fog near a green river. The cloaked figure returned, watching from across the water.
"You're opening the gate," the voice said. "But beware what crawls through."
He jolted awake, chest heaving.
Outside, the wind blew strong. A faint whisper trailed through the cracks of his window. Not words—just intent.
He pressed a hand to his chest. The medallion's mark faintly glowed.
Something was shifting.
The following afternoon, Isso called a meeting. In the backroom of a decrepit bar, he laid out a new mission. "We move tomorrow night. Big drop. Rumor says DED might be sniffing around."
Jean-Daniel gave a subtle nod, trying not to show concern.
Peterson stayed quiet.
Later, in the alley behind the bar, Jean-Daniel pulled Peterson aside.
"You good?"
"Not really. Miranda's watching me, the system is throwing visions at me, and I'm about to run head-first into a gang war."
Jean-Daniel patted his shoulder. "Standard week then."
Wilkens arrived minutes later with more research. "I found something else. The bestower skill—you might be able to gift defense spells soon. But it's tied to trust."
Jean-Daniel laughed. "Wilkens, you're like a magical Wikipedia."
"I try," Wilkens said proudly.
As they talked, Amanda watched from behind a chain fence, half-hidden in shadow.
Her eyes narrowed.
That night, Peterson crafted new shoulder armor using fused ceramic tile and car parts. It glowed faintly, symbols swirling across the surface.
Skeletons guarded the house now. Wilkens named one "Pebbles." It nodded with pride.
Peterson lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
If Miranda and Amanda were following him… they might be next.
And that terrified him more than any monster.
[End of Chapter 18 ]