CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Property?

Sylvie woke up feeling refreshed. Outside, the sun shone and the air, though cool, promised to be dry and pleasant.

Perfect weather for pumpkin carving, she thought.

Walking back into the house, she discussed her plan to get some gourds at Joe's Market in town.

"I'm not sure what I'll carve yet, until I get them home."

"That's half the fun." Her mom said, sipping coffee from her mug as she sat at the breakfast table. "It sounds like fun. I shouldn't be at the office long today, I'll just need to file a couple of papers, then I should be done."

"Sweet." Sylvie enthused. "Will you go shopping with us? Or should I get a pumpkin for you?"

"That depends, when were you planning on going to Joe's?" her mother asked.

Sylvie glanced at the clock. "Perhaps in a little bit." She said. "I've got to clean up in the garage and take care of the backyard. Then I can go get the pumpkins."

"All right. I'll meet you at the house when I get done at work, and we can go together." She looked at Taryn. "Were you going to come with us? Or bring your mom?" she asked.

Taryn bit her lip, thinking.

"I'll call my mom, see if she wants to come with us. She's not big on Halloween…anymore."

"Perfectly understandable, all things considering." Her mother said. "But ask her anyway. She might still want to carve with us."

"Okay."

Taryn went to call her mom while Sylvie hugged hers at the door. She hurried to the car and drove off, obviously eager to finish work and get home.

Sylvie returned to the garage and grabbed her iPod. Turning it on, she heard the strains of her favorite song start up and she started to clean. Bits of mud and leaf litter were everywhere, mingling with dirty shirts and bedsheets from the mattresses. She tossed the shirts into the laundry, seeing Taryn walk in. She gave her a thumbs up but didn't remove the earbuds, bouncing and swaying to the beat.

Together the girls made the beds and Sylvie grabbed the vacuum to grab the dirt and mud. Despite her large bulk, she moved dexterously in the familiar environment. In a few minutes she turned off the vacuum and placed it in the corner.

She started to head to the back of the house when a tap on her shoulder made her realize Taryn had been trying to get her attention.

She pulled the earphones out of her ear and looked at her friend curiously.

"Welcome back." Taryn said sarcastically. "Someone is knocking on the front door."

As if to prove her point there came a knock, and Sylvie hurried down the hallway, wondering who it could be.

There stood a FedEx woman on the porch, her company uniform crisp and clean. She had brown hair, green eyes, and strange expression on her face, though her voice sounded clipped and professional when she spoke. Behind her stood perhaps four other men and one woman, all of them dressed exactly the same as her, leaving Sylvie confused and wondering what was going on.

"Are you Sylvie Mathison or Taryn Grogan?" the woman asked.

"Yes." Sylvie said cautiously. Taryn peeked curiously around her.

"Sign here please."

Sylvie accepted the digital pad and wrote her name, then Taryn wrote hers.

The woman took the pad back and started to walk down the drive.

"Hey, wait a minute, where's my package?" Sylvie hollered.

"It's not a package," the woman explained over her shoulder. "We'll back it up in the driveway for you."

Sylvie frowned.

"Huh, did you get something big?" Taryn asked.

"I don't think so, unless mom ordered something at work."

"That doesn't make any sense." Taryn said. "Why would she ask my name then?"

"For that matter, how would they know that we were here together?" Sylvie pointed out.

A loud beeping made further conversation impossible and they looked up to see a huge, familiar trailer starting to back up to the driveway, the semi-trailer pushed back by a semi. Behind it came a motorhome that they placed next to it.

"Sylvie!" Taryn gasped.

"Yeah." Sylvie said, stunned. In all her wildest imaginings, she'd never imagined…

"What is going on here?" she muttered.

"I've got to make a call." She said.

Hurrying to the phone, she dialed her mother's work number. The connection went through and she heard it start to ring.

"Hello, this is…", started the voice on the other end.

"Never mind that, Missus Cranston. Is my mother in yet?" Sylvie interrupted.

"Yes, yes she is. I'll connect you." The flustered woman said.

A moment later her mom came on the line. "Sylvie! What's the matter?!"

"Mom, the trailer and fifth-wheel trailer are here." Sylvie explained, her words rushed. "What are they doing here?"

"What trailers?" her mom asked in confusion.

"THE trailers." Sylvie heard her voice raise slightly and she forced it back under control. "The ones from Nightshade's show. What is going on here?"

"I'll be right there." Her mom snapped. A second later the line went dead.

Sylvie looked at the dead phone then shook her head. Placing it back in the receiver, she met up with Taryn in the driveway, looking up at their trailer.

The semi-trailer extended the length of their driveway and stood supported on the two jacks in front. On the side sprawled a mural of them, though Taryn's skin looked a little darker, done up in war paint and dressed with a feather band on the top of her head, she looked like a Native American princess. She raced along a desolate and wide-open land, hair flying behind her and her spear shining in the sun. Sylvie stood on the other side of the trailer, dressed in full cowboy regalia, her rifle out and firing methodically at a distant target.

"Wow. I had forgotten how impressive that damned mural looked." Sylvie said quietly.

"Yeah. Wonder if all the old stuff is in there." Taryn responded.

Opening the back, she pulled down the special ramp from its slot and the two of them climbed in.

The inside of the trailer looked exactly like Sylvie remembered it. On the right was the tall table with no chairs, bolted into the floor, while behind it a pair of mattresses sunk into recesses provided their bedding and traveling position. At their head was the webbing that provided their headboard and could be pulled out to wrap around their torsos and horse bodies to secure them for traveling on the rough roads. On the left stood the fridge, sink, and extra-large shower stall.

"Wow." Sylvie said. "Think if we open the fridge we'd find papayas?"

"Not sure I want to find out." Taryn said hesitantly. "If there are, they'd have molded. We'd be hours cleaning that."

Sylvie opened the door slowly, and discovered to her relief that the fridge stood empty, devoid of meal or drink.

"Well. It's at least clean." Sylvie said after they'd checked it over from end to end. "And it's in good shape, too."

The sound of feet pounding up the ramp saved Taryn from responding, and Sylvie watched her mom appear, out of breath and with a slightly wild look in her eye.

"What is all this?" she asked, as soon as she saw they were both there and all right.

"Don't know." Sylvie shrugged. "I mean, it's our old trailer while we were held by Nightshade, but I don't get why it's here."

"The same with the motorhome." Taryn said. "I saw that it was the one he held Mom in, but I don't understand why it would be here as well."

"Let me make a call." Her mom said. "I'll get to the bottom of this."

"Okay."

They went into the house to wait. It turned out her mom made several calls in the space of an hour, before they finally had an answer. By then, her father had made it home (bringing the pumpkins), and Taryn's mother had walked over as well, looking at the trailer before waiting in the house.

"Well, according to my friend, Sgt. Ruiz, they are the ones who shipped the trailers to us, as they are listed as the kids' property."

"They are?" Sylvie and Taryn asked, startled.

"Yep. Nightshade had both of them listed in your names. Don't know why he did that, unless to make you dependent on him with the taxes and registration for those vehicles."

"Sounds like him." Sylvie muttered. "Trying to get us coming and going."

"Right" Her mom nodded.

"So what do we do?" Taryn asked.

The room fell quiet. Sylvie's father cleared his voice. "Well, it's up to you guys." He said at last. "Technically, it is your property. What do you want to do with them?"

Sylvie looked at Taryn. Sylvie didn't know what Taryn was thinking--her eyes had grown hooded and thoughtful--but for her part, Sylvie found herself feeling conflicted. The trailer was a mark of her time with Nightshade's show, one of the worst times in her life. The brutal sessions with Halls, the constant feeling of entrapment, the loss of freedom…those memories were indelibly etched into her brain, and the trailer would be a constant reminder of that.

On the other hand, the trailer didn't trigger the memories of the Gardeners' deaths, it was far more spacious then the horse trailers that her parents borrowed, and they could probably fit a couple of bunks in here for the parents and turn the trailer into a mobile home of sorts.

Sylvie caught Taryn's eye. "Well, what do you think?" she asked.

"I'm not sure, Syl." She said. "It seems like he's trying to make us feel grateful to him, or at least not let us try and forget him."

Sylvie nodded. "I agree with you on that." She said. "But I think we should keep it. It's spacious, perfectly designed for us, and has the webbed belts for traveling. That's better than anything else we have, or could get. Horse trailers aren't equipped with seat belts for centaurs." She pointed out dryly. "Plus…" she hesitated, an old, familiar pain gripped her.

"Yeah, plus." Taryn nodded slowly. "That plus aside, though (she ignored the curious looks of the others), we don't have a vehicle capable of moving that monster. It requires a semi-truck, which is something we just don't have."

Sylvie thought about that, figuring out the angles. "What if we ask Ben to store it for us?" Sylvie asked. "We can earn money to buy a truck, and then we can go on vacations again. Maybe see the Grand Canyon or Alaska. I always wanted to do that."

Taryn looked at her, then glanced out the front window at the trailer, uncertain.

"Plus, it still has enough room we could easily put in a pair of fold-away bunk beds for our parents. We won't need the motor home if you don't want it."

"But who would we get to drive it?' Taryn pointed out. "None of our parents are licensed to drive a semi and trailer."

"Oof." Good point, she hadn't thought of that. And she knew she couldn't do it, for obvious reasons. Same with Taryn.

Her father cleared his throat. "If you girls decide you want to do this, then I can easily go and acquire a license, I'm sure."

"Really?" Sylvie looked excitedly at her father. "You mean it?"

He nodded. "You've both raised good points about this trailer; it is quite literally one of a kind. We won't find another like it, even in a smaller size, without enormous effort and work."

"Or with some strings attached." Sylvie muttered. Taryn nodded agreement alongside her father.

"Right, so this appears," he stressed the word, "to be our best option if you girls want to do any type of travelling."

"What about license and upkeep?" Taryn asked. "I don't know what it would cost just to keep the trailer."

"I don't know." Her father admitted. "But it is likely to be expensive."

Taryn looked at Sylvie. "That means we'll have to find jobs to keep up payments." She said.

Sylvie sighed, resignedly.

"Taryn, I think all we have to do is show up at Alfred's a few times, and do the celebration in town, and we'll have more than enough money. Both for us and for the town." She pointed out.

The adults frowned, looking concerned, but Taryn started to nod thoughtfully.

"We only have a week until the Pumpkin festival," she said thoughtfully, "but we might still be able to set up a booth there and sell a picture with us. We might get a few takers, (her mom snorted, but Taryn ignored her), and then see how much is left."

Sylvie nodded. "I think," she said slowly, not sure how she would balance all of her responsibilities and still manage to keep her word to Wolfe and Bengal, "I think, that we should join the Pumpkin festival. Leaving the money aside, it would do the city good to see us helping them out."

Everyone looked curiously at her, and Sylvie found herself trying to explain.

"Other than my…appearances…at Alfred's, we haven't really gotten out or pitched in." she said. "Many people see us as victims,"

"And you are!" the humans chimed in all at once.

"That ain't true." Sylvie said firmly, looking at them sternly. "We've been changed, yes. We were kidnapped and used by that scum Nightshade, but we escaped him, regardless of what he may think, and others. We are who we are now, and I say it's time we start acting like people again."

"What do you want to do?" Taryn asked curiously.

"Stop hiding." Sylvie answered promptly. "Get out and do things again. The Pumpkin Festival is a great start, but it's only a start. We can play to our strengths and help people out, either with their shooting or their stick-waving (she smiled at Taryn), or maybe do a show or something to help bring in tourists again. We do have some experience in that." She said dryly. "And this time it wouldn't be just to make others rich, but to help out people that really need the help."

Taryn nodded thoughtfully, but the others looked unsure. Sylvie wasn't surprised; she would have been looking much the same if she hadn't come up with it just then. Still, she thought it might be a good idea.

Provided it doesn't turn out like the last time, she thought uncomfortably.

Stetson was right, though. I couldn't have stopped them from getting hurt. I have to let go of that and focus on other things.

She ran out of things to say and fell silent. She never could think of the right words when she wanted too, she thought wryly, but she hoped what she'd said already would be enough.

Looking around the room, she thought she at least had Taryn in her corner.

Although Taryn would be with me no matter what I said, she realized. She felt the warm happiness associated with fierce friendship and the special bond they shared with each other.

"Well, if you girls are insisting on doing the Pumpkin Festival," her father said at last, still looking unconvinced, "then we should talk to the commissioner and see about setting up a booth for you."

"I've got an old camera that we can use." Taryn's mother said unexpectedly. "From my great-grandfather or something. It's at…at my father's old farm. I'll see if it's still there, that way we can take the old-fashioned pictures.

Sylvie saw her mother chew her lip in worry, but what she could be thinking of, Sylvie didn't dare guess. All she could do was nod at her reassuringly.

As they set up to carve jack-o-lanterns on the floor, Sylvie hoped that nothing would go wrong at the Pumpkin Festival.

#

Ring! Ring! Her hand flew up tiredly from the bed. Grabbing her cell, she slid the answer button to the right.

"Hello?" she asked muzzily.

"I hope that you remember the terms of our agreement." The cold voice on the line jolted the spiderwebs from her brain.

"But…but I already did as you asked!" she trembled.

"And I'm asking just a bit more." It turned colder, if possible, and more menacing. "After all, we don't want it to be found out that you were an willing accomplice to an operation that caused the deaths of two people, now do we? Especially since they were the chief's parents, and him without anyone to prosecute, he will be eager to find anyone, regardless of how loosely associated, don't you think?"

"What…what do you want me to do?" she asked, defeated.

"Simply watch them for now. Perhaps find a bit of mischief to befall them, if you can manage it. I'll be in touch to take your reports. Don't fail me."

The line went dead with an ominous click.

She got out of bed, having half in mind to run to the bathroom and throw up, and another half to throw some clothes and food in a bag and run for it. But she already knew that it would do no good; he would find her, she had no doubt.

As she gazed in the mirror, she saw her scared reflection looking back at her, looking much thinner and more ragged then she ever remembered. Black circles under her eyes provided the only color to her pale skin which seemed almost snow-like in the darkness.

"What am I going to do?" she asked the mirror. It said nothing; the person behind the pane starting to cry in answer.