The Road Trip Series
by Cher

Journey's End - Part 7

She found her way much easier than she had any right to hope, relieved that she arrived without incident or at the very least a tumble from the balky ATV. It was almost as if the spirits of her Father and Mother were guiding her as she spied the ancient mountain ash tree ahead, its massive trunk split in three where lightning struck during a thunderstorm many years ago. She turned off the main trail onto the rocky path that wound between the trees as she climbed higher onto the mountain.

She cleared the forest and suddenly the stone house stood before her. She turned off the ATV and listened to nothing but silence, as if nature itself was aware of the import of the moment and paused to bow in reverent stillness. She could see the lake through the tree line, its crisp clear waters glittering in the mid-afternoon sun. The house itself was unchanged from the images held within her memory, the stones now weathered by years of wind and snow and fierce sun. There was snow even at this time of year dotting the landscape here and there as the trail behind the house snaked farther back into the mountain. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and saw a red fox sitting next to a tree watching her, a reminder or perhaps a ghost of the fire foxes that paint the sky over this mountain. She nervously walked up to the door and removed her glove to brush chilled fingertips over the Russian word burned into its slate.

Shangri-La

Jerry gave her a few tools to jimmy the door but when she touched the knob it turned beneath her hand and the door swung open with an eerie creak.

She was home.

After Rosewood and its mysteriously clean rooms, she was not surprised to find the living room spotlessly clean. Everything was unchanged, her memory reconstructing days and nights with her parents as they played chess, skied, solved jigsaw puzzles and her Mother sang her to sleep. But what her heart remembered most of all was laughter, the laughter of shared jokes and that simply of the joy that comes from a house filled with love, a laughter that still echoed within these walls. She closed her eyes and sensed it reach out and surround her like a down comforter. As it tugged her heartstrings it succeeded in freeing the cache of memories her heart had long buried and suddenly the floodgates opened and she was breathless as image upon image flashed upon her consciousness until she was dizzy. She reached out to steady herself on the rocking chair sitting before the fireplace and her Mother suddenly appeared before her, rocking and rubbing her tummy to soothe the baby that grew restless inside her as her Father sketched in front of a roaring fire. Her eyes searched the room and alighted upon the silver chess set that stood on a table behind the couch, its burnished pieces still in play. She recognized the strategy, one used by her Father many times. She picked up a King and pressed it to her cheek yearning to feel his touch. Sighing, she returned the piece to play, picked up a Queen's pawn and remembered Helena.

Was she her pawn? And what did she believe was here that made her so intent on finding it?

Legacy

Alexis shook her head, set her shoulders and continued to wander about the room, her eyes hungrily touching her past. She looked into the other rooms, the two bedrooms with their fanciful quilts and plump pillows and the kitchen with its cast-iron stove and old-fashioned icebox. There was no electricity in the house so everything was a passage to a time when life was far less complicated.

She was walking back to the doorway when she slipped, catching herself on the wooden counter before she fell.

"Damn!" she grumbled as she bent down to rub her ankle. It was then she saw what made her slide. There was oil, perhaps from one of the lamps, in the middle of the kitchen floor.

"Oil? How the hell did oil get over here?" she wondered as she rubbed it between her fingers.

Frowning, she automatically opened the second drawer on the left, pulled out a kitchen towel and wiped it up. Satisfied, she walked back into the living room and sat down on the couch, its tufted back covered by a soft violet-hued afghan. She leaned back and glanced around the room again wondering what exactly this legacy was and where she would find it. The house was stopped in time but something awaited her in the shadows, something precious her Father left for her most likely after her Mother died.

Alexis, she chided herself, the only way you are going to find it is to look so you best get on with business.

The comfortable couch pulled her further into its soft embrace and she was dying to nap but instead stood up, cracked her knuckles and headed for her bedroom.

Two hours later after she'd searched the bedrooms, the kitchen, the small storage room, even the catwalk in the small attic, she'd come up empty. The only room left was the large living room and it was filled with nooks and crannies and artifacts of their lives and would probably take hours. She started with the desk and found a note she'd written to her Mother. She was happily reacquainting herself with the past when the house shook violently and she quickly rose and walked over to the window. The skies had darkened over the mountain even though nightfall was about two hours away. The wind had risen considerably since she ventured up to the house and she knew the storm was announcing its intention to engulf the mountain. She recalled storms from her childhood, not fearful but endlessly fascinated by their ferocity. The storms of the mountain, whether snow or rain, were intense and she knew she must work fast and get back down the mountain before Cameron himself arrived to carry her back down.

At that image she grinned and walked over to the fireplace. Her eyes searched for the low wooden table that always sat beside it, its drawers holding matches and tools.

It was missing.

She looked around the room sharply and spied it in a corner next to the front door. Everything else in the room was in its place according to her recollection except the table. She walked over, searched through it and again came up empty. Gnawing her lower lip, she strode back over to the fireplace. As she gazed down trying to solve the puzzle, she noticed a pile of ashes beneath the grate. She bent down and sifted them through her fingers. She thought about the oil on the kitchen floor and quizzically wrinkled her nose. She walked into the kitchen, opened the hinged door on the stove and again found ashes, more ashes than she would have expected considering how clean she found the rest of the house. On impulse, she opened the icebox and found a quarter-block of ice in the process of slowing melting.

"Someone was here," she breathed, a shiver racing down her spine as her eyes searched the grounds through the kitchen window.

There was no back door, only one entrance to the house so she carefully walked back into the living room and looked out the front window. Nothing was moving except the trees in the wind, her ATV was where she left it and no footprints other than hers approached the door. Relaxing, she glanced over to the area next to the fireplace and noticed a small decorative rug where the table once stood. She walked over, pulled up the rug and saw the small brass ring set into the floor.

Eureka, she thought triumphantly as she tugged on the ring and a small section of the floor lifted. The area had been hollowed out and resting in the darkness of the enclosure was a large wooden chest with four entwined roses carved into its cover. Her eyes misted as she recognized the symbol for their family and she hurriedly leaned down struggling to free it from its tomb and found it much heavier than she thought. She decided to leave it in place until she had help. She tested the ornate lock and to her surprise found it open. She took a deep breath, lifted the lid and the first thing she saw was a picture of the four of them in a silver filigree frame, a pose taken a few weeks before her Mother was attacked. She shifted some of the items and found baby booties, a receiving blanket, playbills and vinyl records from her Mother's performances, a dagger with a jeweled handle that appeared quite lethal, a tattered volume of Shakespeare's Sonnets and a number of elegant leather document cases like the ones the late Sir Edwin gave her. She moved aside a section of the chest and found a stack of velvet boxes filled with jewelry, some she recalled gracing her Mother's neck and some she'd never before seen. Wedged next to the boxes were photo albums of her family and, strangely, a small one of her childhood in Greece before her Father was murdered.

Her eyes glistened as she turned the pages recognizing the terrified little girl she once was but now viewed through the loving eye of a Father's lens. The pictures were of her smiling, somewhat self-consciously yes, but the few smiles she could recall were miraculously recorded by her Father or more likely Mrs. Lansbury since her Father always seemed happier away from the Island. There were two of her on horseback riding between Stefan and Stavros. In those two pictures he captured the two sides of the daughter he could no longer acknowledge. Assertive Natasha who, with a haughty toss of her head toward the older 'cousin' she despised, seemingly feared no reprisal and the other of the vulnerable Alexis, her assertiveness cloaked as she leaned shyly toward gentle Stefan touching his hand to share a secret.

"He must have brought these here before he died," she murmured as she continued to turn pages until an envelope slipped from the book.

To My Natasha

The envelope was crème linen, the writing uncompromising and unmistakably that of her Father. She turned it in her hand and her breath caught in her throat as her fingers brushed the red wax imprinted with her Father's signet. She gently broke the seal, slipping the remnants of red wax into her jacket as she lifted out a few sheets of paper.

My beloved daughter,

If you are reading this letter then I am surely dead and for that I beg your forgiveness. It was my hope… no… truly my dream… that one day we would return here together and once again be a family. My only desire ever was to protect you from harm and from the evil that waited upon your door each day since your Mama delivered you. When you were a child your Mama and I promised to always protect you and your sister and never leave you. You trusted in our promise as a child instinctively trusts the promises of the parents they love and it is to my eternal regret that we betrayed your confidence and that of your sister. To tell you now that all was done for what we believed were the right reasons is poor comfort this I know in my heart. I watched your sister begin a new life with a new family, one where she could flourish absent of harm. But you, my dearest child, you were forged in my image and your fearlessness led you to play a part in the great trap that was set for my beloved Kristin. You set yourself on a bitter road that long ago night, my child, and I fear that the life you have ahead of you will always bear its bitter tinge.

Ah, but that is the Russian fatalist in me and since you are half Swedish perhaps all will be well.

You may question why I did not whisk you away that night as I did your sister, to another family and a better life. I can only apologize for allowing my heart to overrule my mind and in so doing sentenced you to a life built on fear and loneliness. You were too precious to me and I could not bear losing you as I lost your Mother and your sister. To protect you I brought you into a house of vipers, bit back the bile in my heart at those who would treat you as less than a person and forced myself to turn from you but never away, my Tasha, never away. My love for you never wavered and was the focus of my life each and every day, my only want to protect you. I felt the indignity of every slight and slap within my heart for you, the small child who so stoically withstood that and much more and for me, the father who did not have the courage to change it.

Why did I not do something about it? Fear… fear that she would attempt to kill you to expunge you from my heart. Yes the fearless prince who faced down the world could not even for the love of his first-born daughter face the monster he created - the wife he chose out of obligation but did not love, a woman who transformed herself into a well-coiffed and elegant beast… or perhaps losing my affections did it for her.

Was I horrible to want you near me after I had given up so much of the joy in my life even if I could never claim you as my own? I was always a selfish man, my little one, and my greed was your undoing. But you are here now, alive and well, sadly with only a handwritten letter to welcome you home. But in returning to this place, you have fulfilled every belief I had in your intellect and ambition, gifts among so many others I saw even as you sat upon my knee.

I am so very proud of you, Tasha, and love you with all I am. That love will sustain me until the last breath passes my lips and my spirit fades into eternity knowing that one day we will be reunited.

Tears flowed freely as she read his words, proud that she had fulfilled his loving confidence in her. She reached out to the picture of the four of them resting in the chest, lifted it to her lips and bestowed a kiss upon her Father's forehead.

"I love you too, Papa," she whispered as she traced the outline if his face.

Sighing, she continued reading.

For here, my darling daughter is your legacy, left behind to wait for you when time and tide were ready for you to reclaim it.

As usual with your Papa, let us first attend to business. When you were a child, I made arrangements with your Mother's brother Lars to set up a special trust for you and for Kristina. These were set up in such a way that they could not be traced by those who would do you harm. The accounts are set up offshore… for reasons I need not explain… and will be transferred to you and someday to your sister when you reunite with her… and reunite you will of that I have no doubt…upon presentation of the documents that are in this chest.

Alexis touched the words again as she re-read them, her heart breaking at the thought of her dead sister who would never know how much their Father loved them. Setting aside the letter on the floor beside her, she searched through the trunk. She picked up a padded leather case with the word 'trusts' embossed in Russian on the cover, removed a document to scan the contents and promptly dropped the case on the floor.

Shocked, she gasped, "Oh my lord."

The letterhead was the First Maritime Bank of the Caymans and listed two trusts, one in the name of Natasha Alexis Cassadine and the other in the name of Kristina Mikaela Cassadine with their uncle, Lars Bergmann, as sole trustee until they reached the age of consent. Documents to transfer the trusts to sole ownership for each were neatly filed behind the letter along with accompanying affidavits all efficiently executed and notarized.

The amount in 1978 totaled $25 million for each account.

Alexis muttered, "With compounded interest for 26 years, the current value must be… oh my!"

Her breathing quickened threatening to overwhelm her and she forced herself to breath more slowly. The last thing she needed was to hyperventilate into unconsciousness on a Swedish mountaintop. Composing herself, she picked up the letter again and continued reading.

By now my solicitor, Sir Edwin, should have made you aware of five properties in the name of various holding companies that I own beyond the reach of the Cassadine empire. These are unknown to all except Sir Edwin with the exception of the Paris apartment. Its existence is known to Amelia Lansbury, my friend and confidante, whose loyalty is unquestioned and whom I charged with guarding your life. She is a woman of integrity and great caring and you would be wise to look upon her for counsel. She saved my life when I was a foolish young boy and by her unselfish act showed me that true courage and generosity of spirit is possible in the human heart.

The chest holds documents that will transfer the deeds to you and Kristina. I hope that one day you will come to love the Paris apartment as much as Mama. It holds many special memories for us, the most precious being it was where you were conceived. There is a wall safe in the bedroom and in it you will find our letters of love to each other, mementos of our lives for our daughters, as well as a gift for you and Kristina.

She was filled with anger. "So that is what Helena pilfered from Paris."

I hope that someday you will find your one great love, my Tasha, whose passion makes your soul sing as did your Mother's love for me. You may meet many along the way who will make you believe that they are the one but listen to the harmonies of your heart, daughter, and they will guide you without fail into the arms of your eternal symphony.

Crying, she picked up another leather case and found everything just as he said.

The jewelry in this chest belongs to your Mother as well as to your Great Grandmother Katia. You will I pray recognize the sapphire and pearl necklace and teardrop earrings Mama wore at her debut concert. As I recall, you used them as your teething ring, your love of beauty present even as a baby. The emerald and gold filigree necklace and ring belonged to your Great Grandmother Katia, a gift from the Czar. You were never permitted to have anything of your Mother or your heritage as you grew up and these belong to you.

And now, finally, your true legacy and perhaps the most difficult bequest I give to you. I ask again that you please forgive us… your Mother and me. It was unfair but necessary to protect you but now you need to know the truth. When someday you have children you will perhaps understand the terrible things a parent must do for love of a child.

Her thoughts turned to Luis Alcazar, feeling again the sensation of blade impaling muscle and bone as it drove into his chest and the bitter consequences of her own terrible thing done for the love of her child.

"I understand, Papa, more than you could know," she whispered tearfully.

For love of you and your sister, we made the ultimate sacrifice. But now, my Tasha, it gives me great joy to give you my legacy and even greater happiness that from this day you will no longer be alone …"

Engrossed in her Father's words, she was unaware she was not alone until the sarcastic lilt of a silky voice penetrated her consciousness.

"Ah, I see my dutiful little mouse has finally discovered the cheese."

* * *

Cameron was frightened as he stared at the rain hammering against the windows of the pub. The storm had settled over them earlier than expected and it was as fierce as any hurricane that slammed the Florida coast. He was afraid of what havoc the storm was raising up on the mountain and prayed that Alexis was safe and snug in the stone house. He had a bad feeling that wouldn't go away ever since they discovered that someone had been in Kristin's room at Rosewood while Alexis and Kristina slept. The dark impression hadn't lessened when Alexis insisted on going up alone and the storm was smothering him in black thoughts. He wanted to go up there and find her and bring her back safely. The proprietor insisted to chance that was to sign his death warrant.

So here he stood waiting and unhappier than he'd ever been.

He looked over his shoulder at Jerry, Luke and Zander playing cards and then turned back to the window. He felt a tug on his pants leg and looked down to find Kristina at his feet. The storm had affected her too and she was whimpering as she lifted her arms to be held. He scooped her up and held her close as they both looked out the window. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes knowing she was safe in his arms. He smoothed her dark hair as her breathing became regular and he knew she was asleep. He walked over and sat down next to Mrs. Lansbury who was passing the time knitting.

She reached over and patted Kristina's back. "Poor little thing! She misses her Mommy but she most definitely adores you, Doctor. She was on everyone's lap including the bartender and each time she would settle for a few moments then get fussy. One thing is clear… her eyes always search you out and she rests easier knowing you are not far away."

He smiled as he kissed Kristina's cheek. "We have a special bond. I was there before she was born."

"Ah, there is a bit more to that story I'm told. You saved Miss Alexis and Miss Kristina that night, don't ignore the importance of that act. They are alive because you were there to help them. And they both love you."

He looked pleased but attempted to feign surprise. "They love me?"

Mrs. Lansbury rolled her eyes as she deftly continued knitting. "You don't seem the type of man to 'play possum' as Mr. Spencer would say. You know very well they both adore you. It hasn't been easy for Miss Alexis to open up given her history but you have allowed her to be herself and we both know that self is a wonder to behold. I have hope for you, Doctor. Besides, we need more babies in the family."

He frowned at the last comment and decided she was obliquely suggesting he marry Alexis. Not a bad idea, he thought with a smile.

The door of the pub burst open and an old woman ran in breathlessly, her eyes frantically scanning the customers. She spotted their party in the corner and headed in their direction as Mrs. Lansbury dropped her knitting and rose.

"Mother of mercy… it's Magda!" she mumbled as the woman collapsed to the floor in a heap.

Luke and Jerry ran over and gently lifted her into a chair while Zander went to get a glass of brandy. He held it to her lips and she coughed drinking a few drops.

Mrs. Lansbury leaned over and took her hand. "Magda… it's Amelia… what are you doing here?"

Muttering, she looked up into the old woman's eyes, "They're up there… alone. You must help them."

Cameron's heart skipped a beat. "Alexis and Helena?"

She focused her dark eyes on Cameron and Kristina as she grabbed his sleeve digging her nails into his forearm. "Death walks up on that mountain."

* * *

An icy shiver lazily swept up her spine until it reached Alexis's mind and her body froze in place. Glancing down at her Father's letter, her first thought was how to hide it and the chest from Helena. She dropped the letter into the chest and was attempting to close the lid when she felt hot breath on her neck making her hackles rise.

"What, no greeting for your dear stepmother? No invitation to come in from the storm and enjoy the rustic beauty of this pathetic den of your dear dead Mother's iniquity? I'm surprised, Natasha, I thought you would have learned some manners from watching me," Helena whispered icily into her ear. "You really should stick to being a lawyer my dear. As poor as you are at that profession, you are totally useless at intrigue."

Alexis straightened and locked eyes with the woman standing above her.

"How did you find us?"

"Leaving behind that luscious Jasper Jacks as a feint I admit was a nice touch but you and your merry little band of fools? Well let's just say it was much easier than I thought it would be. Luke is usually such a challenge. I'd hoped for so much more stimulating a kill."

Alexis shuddered at the words. She knew that Helena would kill her without regret so her only choice, as it was the night of the Halloween party, was to play to her ego and keep her talking. This time she wasn't drugged and she could defend herself if necessary. Her only hope was that Cameron would be his usual impatient self and decide to come after her. To buy time, Alexis decided to find out what Helena believed was hidden in this house.

She stood up and faced her. "Why did you want to find this house, Helena? I'd think the last place you'd want to be was yet another home where my parent's made mad passionate love. Wasn't the Paris apartment enough to whet your voyeuristic appetite? Perhaps it's just me but don't you find this kind of Peeping Thomasina behavior so… what is the word… unseemly for one of your stature? Then again, you may derive some kind of strange pleasure from it in a Freudian way. Perhaps Cameron would be willing to help you work on ridding yourself of this compulsion."

Helena flushed red and glared at her. "I get no pleasure having my late husband's whoring ways thrown into my face. I knew he was hiding something from me for a long time and I would have eventually made him confess but time and Luke Spencer conspired to thwart me and I believed the secret went to his grave. I'd almost forgotten about my suspicions until recently when I discovered an old journal when I was looking for… well it is of no consequence. Mikkos, my poor deluded husband, most likely believed it was hidden for eternity but I found it and it spoke of something hidden from everyone."

The house shook in the wind and the rain slammed against the windows. Alexis prayed that her daughter was safe and that some hardy insane soul would brave the mountain and come help her.

"But why did you think I had anything to do with it? My Father turned away from me when I was a child. I wouldn't know his secret. I didn't even know I was his daughter until a few years ago."

Helena waved a finger at her. "Tsk-tsk, Natasha, you were mentioned prominently in this journal, often in code but there was no mistake about whom he was writing. It spoke of leaving an intricate set of clues for you to follow because the answers were buried inside your mind. He said what was here was your legacy or some such romantic drivel. So, my little mouse, I simply left a few breadcrumbs for you to follow knowing you would take the bait. Your romantic delusions about your Mother and my Mikkos have always been your Achilles heel. Sentiment, my dear, is always questionable at best and in your case can be quite deadly."

Alexis frowned. "How did you know about the Paris apartment? He said only Sir Edwin knew about it."

Helena sighed as she checked her manicure. "Ah yes, poor Sir Edwin. He was not as cooperative as one would have hoped and I was in a rush to get my information."

Alexis thought of the kindly old man and how solicitous he was to her. She stated baldly, "You killed him."

She shrugged. "He was an old man and old men die every day."

She held her breath. "But he didn't tell you everything."

"No, his heart sadly gave out before he could confess his duplicity in hiding this place and Mikkos' legacy from ME. So I simply reverted to Plan B with the little information at my disposal. I am nothing if not patient and organized my dear. So, the question is what did you find in that little chest over there? Midas's treasure or fool's gold?"

Alexis's mind was racing to find the quickest way to hide what she'd discovered. She knelt down before the chest and leaned down freezing at Helena's voice.

"Be careful, Natasha, don't do anything ill-advised. We wouldn't want you to get hurt before we have our little chat," she purred.

Alexis looked over her shoulder and saw a knife glittering in the lamplight. Helena was turning the handle over in her hands and the way she gazed raptly at the blade terrified her. A flash of a knife slicing across her Mother's throat invaded her mind and she swallowed convulsively.

She drew a deep breath and exhaled as she replied, "I'm just going to show you what is in here." She picked up a pair of baby booties to show Helena. "Just family mementos… some of mine and Kristina's baby things, photo albums, books, things that would only be meaningful to me and to my sister."

Helena frowned as she twirled the knife playfully. "That is all?"

Alexis shrugged as she pushed the cases and the letter down under the receiving blanket searching blindly for the dagger that had obviously fallen to the bottom of the chest. She had to keep her talking until she found it.

"Perhaps my Father believed that because my childhood and my sister had been stolen away from me I deserved to possess something of my past."

Helena laughed caustically at that thought and sneered, "As if he really cared all that much about poor little Natasha. He walked away from you despite your noxious presence in my home. You were nothing to him except a reminder of the mistake he made breeding with a whore."

Helena's words struck at her heart and at the heart of her Mother and words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them.

"He told me he did it to protect me from you and I believe him. He told me he loved me."

Helena raised an elegant eyebrow as she stood up and walked over to stand beside Alexis, the knife flexing in her hand. "He told you… hmmmmm… interesting choice of words from a woman whose profession is ruled by them. I think you've been lying to me. There is more in that chest than simply the memories of your pathetic little family. I want you to remove every item… NOW."

Alexis felt the knife poke into her shoulder blade and she complied, slowly removing items until she prayed she'd reach the dagger. She knew that once Helena had what she wanted she'd be killed and she wasn't going down without a fight.

"Hurry up… I don't have all day," Helena hissed as she leaned down and poked Alexis in the neck and drew blood.

Trying to keep control, Alexis moved the receiving blanket and the letter, which had become caught in the lace, dropped to the floor at Helena's feet. She couldn't allow her to read it so she reached out only to have her hand impaled by Helena' boot heel.

Helena reached down and picked up the sheets of paper. "What's this? Keeping secrets, little mouse?"

Alexis couldn't move, she couldn't breathe as Helena read her Father's words. She was becoming angrier by the second. She had no right to read words meant only for her. She'd taken away so much from her since the time she was a child and Alexis wanted it to stop. Her other hand continued to surreptitiously search for the dagger as Helena read the letter, her anger increasing with each word. She needed to find the dagger before Helena came to the final legacy, the one she knew must be vital to her Father and one she was interrupted reading. Suddenly, her fingers brushed the dagger and grasping it she lunged toward Helena.

Helena was thrown off balance but parried the thrust dragging Alexis to her feet as the dagger clattered to the floor. She wrapped an arm around her throat and pulled her in tight cutting off her breathing.

Alexis knew this was it: she could either die willingly or do whatever was necessary to save herself. She'd killed once to save herself and her daughter. At the thought of her child, her mind flooded with images of Kristina and her heart broke that her daughter may never again see her Mother, that she would suffer the same pain that never left Alexis after her own Mother was taken from her. They say that when death is upon you life shows you its scrapbook, a visual memory of all that you have been to this world. Scenes quickly flashed before her eyes, some saddened her and some brought joy, indelible impressions of people and places that have touched her life in some way no matter how fleeting. The last image before she felt the blade inch toward her jugular was of Cameron and Kristina in front of their Christmas tree, laughing as they pointed to the ornaments as she looked on from the doorway, her heart completely at peace for the first time in her life.

She would carry their faces and that feeling with her to the grave.

Helena hissed in her ear, "That was very stupid, Natasha. I had hoped to have a final chat with you before you met your Mother's fate but I've found, quite sadly, that talk really is… what is it Americans say? ... not all it is cracked up to be. I've wanted to be rid of you since the day I discovered your pathetic existence but my poor mad Mikkos would never have forgiven me. Well your dear Papa is no longer standing in my way…"

Suddenly the door slammed back on its hinges and the wind howled as it fought its way into the house. Knickknacks and papers and pictures went flying about as it twisted and curled around Helena and Alexis like a whirlwind. They squinted through the cloud of haze as a hooded figure in a sodden black coat appeared inside the door before them. The door banged shut again as the wind retreated and tore back up the mountainside, the room now eerily silent save for the beating of their hearts and the rain thrumming on the roof.

"Let her go… NOW," the voice said in a deadly whisper.

Helena frowned with annoyance as she grasped Alexis tighter. "And why pray tell should I do that?"

The person was cloaked in shadow behind the hood, the eyes hidden by sky goggles. Alexis was getting groggy from lack of air but decided it was too short to be Cameron or Luke.

"Because I asked," the voice whispered. A hand reached to push back the hood as the goggles were pulled free and thrown to skitter on the floor into a corner.

Helena gasped and turned pale as a ghost. "No…"

Alexis focused and the small breath that remained in her chest disappeared as shock turned her lungs to vacuum.

Strawberry blonde may have turned silver and crows-feet now graced the classic patrician face but there was no mistaking the eyes, the same deep sapphire blue eyes that once gazed with love upon the face of her daughters and now glinted with unrestrained rage.

Her Mother, miraculously back from the dead, stood before them with a gun pointed directly at Helena's heart.