Monthly Archives: January 2021

January 23, 2021

This entry is part 14 of 27 in the Flash Fiction: A King's Command

Written in 65 minutes. Sorry took an extra few minutes.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jason saw Elizabeth dart away and while he wanted to follow her—wanted to make sure she got to safety and up the highest tree—

He needed to draw their attention to him—they’d ambushed, laid in wait—they’d known Jason and his men would be here—

And they’d come for Elizabeth.

He didn’t recognize any of the men who were circling him—or the two men who were holding Francis back as the blond had regained conscious and was struggling against their hold—good, it meant Jason only had three men to deal with—

He could handle that—

“After the wench,” the leader growled at one of the other men, but before he could follow the orders, Jason lunged at him—twisting his head on his neck before the man even took a step. He heard a sickening crunch, and dropped the man to the ground.

“Who’s next?” he demanded. One of the other men grabbed a dirk from his kilt and swung it at Jason who started to reach for his own knife tucked in his boot—

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of colors flashing and a man in a kilt breaking away from Francis and darting for the trees—for Elizabeth—

And in that moment of distraction, Jason felt fire slice through his arm as the knife-wielder lunged at him. Jason flipped him over his back and barreled into the leaders, knocking him to the ground and slitting his throat.

Two down—

Just two to go.

“Who sent you?” Jason growled as the two of them circled each other warily, each of them armed. He could hear Francis taking on his captor—his eyes straining to hear Elizabeth—let her sceam for him, just he’d know she was alive—

The man didn’t answer. He hurled himself at Jason, but Jason swung out his elbow, catching the man on the side of the head, and knocking him to the ground. He planted his boot on his chest, held the knife to his thoat. “Who sent you?” he repeated.

The man laughed harshly. “Didn’t care as long as he paid.”

“Where did you meet him?”

“Capital,” the man muttered. “Edinburgh. Told us where to wait. Said you’d be here soon enough.”

Jason scowled, then finished the man off with a twist of the neck. He didn’t know anything. He turned to find Francis finishing off the last of the men.

“Where did the lass go?” Francis demanded.

Jason searched the copse of trees, looked up, desperately scanning them for any signs of her—for any sounds. “I sent her into the trees.”

“He went after her—” Francis rubbed his forehead, smearing the blood. “Johnny’s back at the horses. Might be knocked out. Might be dead. They were waiting fer us.”

“I ken.” There’d be time for that, but he wanted his wife to be safe—

Then he heard a scream that cut off abruptly. He plunged into the trees, Francis on his heels.

—

She hadn’t gone for a tree that ringed the clearing—that would have been too easy—Elizabeth had run for what felt like forever, but was probably only a matter of seconds before she found a tall skinny with branches that grew lighter as they climbed towards the sky. A tree that might bear her weight, but not one of the heavier men—

She lunged for the first branch and dragged herself, her lungs breathing fire by the time she managed the third branch.

“You little bitch—”

Startled, Elizabeth looked down—she’d made it made ten feet and one of the men had reached the base of the tree, was already lifting himself on the first branch. Something surged through her vein, and Elizabeth pushed herself higher—her scraped against a branch, and she winced something dug into her palm.

“Fookin bitch—”

Something grabbed her foot, and Elizabeth kicked out, but then her fingers slipped and she nearly fell off her branch. She clung to the bark of the tree for a minute, squeezing her eyes shut. Oh, God, Oh, God. Jason was already dead, wasn’t he? There had been five of them, and Francis had looked dead, and no way Johnny wasn’t already gone—he never would have let anything happen to Jason or Francis—

“Just come here—” the man grunted.

“No!” she bit out. She kicked again with her foot, her heel digging into his cheek bone. He grunted and fell back—

She resumed her climb — if she could just reach a branch that wouldn’t hold his weight—he’d fall and maybe he’d die. And then—then she could think.

She just had to get higher. Jason had told her to climb as high as she could. This was her fault. She hadn’t warned them—how could she have known—

Sobbing, she climbed two more branches—she was so close—so close—she’d get to the top and it would be over—she wanted it to be over—why wasn’t it done—

Then fire poured through her body and she screamed, losing the grip on the branch—she desperately reached out for something but only found air—

She was falling through the air, then was stopped so abruptly her breath was snatched from her lungs—

The man had stopped her from falling, his meaty fist wrapped around her upper arm. “I should just let you fall, but I don’t get paid if you die—”

Someone had—

Oh, God, Jason was dead, she was alone, and this nightmare was going to give her to someone. Was it just going to get worse?

“I’d rather take you with me—” she snarled, then dug her nails into his fist until he released her, howling—and she plunged down to the ground—

And hit it so hard her bones rattled and her head lolled to the side, resting in the dirt and leave, her vision blurred and weaving. She heard a grunt and thud behind her—oh, God—it hadn’t been far enough…

Her eyes drifted closed and she waited for death.

—

Jason was twenty feet away when he found the tree Elizabeth had chosen to climb and running towards it—she was dangling from the hand of one of the men—then she was falling—

And he didn’t get there in time—didn’t get here to stop it, to catch her—her small body hit the ground so hard that she nearly bounced—

And the man had fallen behind her, was already rolling over—

Jason hurled himself at the other man, not even bothing to draw it out—he broke the man’s neck cleanly and shoved him aside, crawling and scrambling across the forest floor, desperate to reach Elizabeth’s side.

Francis was already there, carefully, looking her over—

“She’s alive,” Francis said, quickly. “But I don’t—” He winced as he gently pushed her on her back, and they saw the pool of blood blossoming on her shoulder. A stab wound. “I don’t know if she’s got any broken bones—”

“Check quickly. I don’t know if anyone else was waiting. I need to get her to Braegarie.” Their healer could look after her, save her.

He pressed on her wound, hoping to stop the bleeding, and Elizabeth gasped sharply. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at him. “I’m not dead?”

“No, no,” he promised her. “You’re alive. You’ll be okay. I’ll make you okay.”

“You’re not dead.”

“No.” He raised his hand to cup her cheek and her eyes bulged in horror and he realized too late that his hand was now covered in her blood.

“Blood. Blood. My fault. Always my fault—” She choked on a sob, twisting her head away fro mhim. “Johnny. Francis.”

“Francis is here, we’re okay. I don’t—we’ll find out—” He looked at Francis— “Can we move her?”

“Looks to be bumps and bruises. That wound looks nasty,” he said. “We need to get her somewhere and clean it.”

“My fault,” she moaned, then her eyes drifted closed.

Jason gathered her in his arms, wincing when she cried out— “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We have to get you home. I’ll make it okay. I’ll take care of you—”

She was unconscious by the time they’d reached the horses—and also relieved to see Johnny recovering from a bash on the head.

“What the hell—” He winced, pressing a hand to his forehead. “What happened?”

“Ambush. They were coming for Elizabeth.” Jason handed her to Francis until he could get on the horse, and then arranged her very carefully against him on the horse, making her injury had pressure on it. “Let’s go. We don’t stop until we see the keep.”

“Fuck me,” Johnny muttered, but he scrambled onto the horse, and Francis followed. They were two days out from Braegarie but they knew these hills like they back of their hands—if they weren’t stopping to spare the horses or Elizabeth, Jason could get home by dawn.

—

“What in the bloody hell is going on here?” Tracy Morgan demanded as she barreled into her nephew’s bedroom. “You came roaring into the keep like a Sassanech was chasing—” She stopped when she saw the petite form of woman stretched out on the bed, her right shoulder bared with a nasty knife wound in in the pale skin. “What is that?”

“My wife,” Jason bit out as he watched the healer, Barbara Jones, carefully clean Elizabeth’s wound. Fever had set in overnight, but he hadn’t stopped. Couldn’t stop. He’d needed to get her home. To get her to safety.

He could protect here, and when she recovered, she’d tell him why the hell those men had chased her and try to kill her. She couldn’t keep her secrets anymore—not when they threatened to take her away from him.

He wouldn’t have it.

“Your wife,” Tracy repeated. “Do I get to ask how this happened?”

“Not now, Aunt,” he retorted. “See to Johnny and Francis. They were injured, as well.” When she nodded at his bandaged arm, he scowled. “A scratch. They were unconscious.”

She squinted at him, but recognized the set of his stubborn shoulders. Just like his father. “Fine. I[ll see to them, but I’ll want answers when I come back,” she warned.

“Barbara,” Jason asked when his aunt had gone, “can you bring down the fever?”

“You know it’s not that simple,” she told him. “The fever lasts as long as the infection. If I had treated her as soon as this happened—” Barbara turned on the bed to face him. “Did you not stop to clean it?”

“We—I couldn’t take the chance. We were ambushed. I didn’t know if anyone was waiting, and I couldn’t protect her on my own.” Jason pushed down the guilt. “Barbara—”

“We’ll see. It’s not always in my hands. It’s on God now.” She bandaged the wound and drew the furs over Elizabeth’s pale skin. “We’ll clean it regularly, treat her fever and hope for the best.” She nodded at his bandage. “Did you clean yours?”

“It’s nothing worse than I’ve gotten sparring in the yard,” Jason said. “It’s fine. I’d know by now.”

“Fair enough.” Barbara set some salve on the night table. “If she’s uncomfortable, brew her willow bark tee. I’ve told the kitchens to keep it ready. And rub this every hour into the wound. I’ll find something else for her bruises.” She paused. “Unless you’d like me—”

“No,” he snapped. “I’ll see to it. She’s my wife.”

“Of course.” She got to her feet. “Jason, if you tell me it was a matter of life and death to get her here, then I believe you. You couldn’t have known—infection doesn’t always happen. Look at you—”

“I told her to run for the trees,” Jason muttered. “I should have protected her better.” He barely heard the healer leave as he sat on the bed and stared down at the pale and quiet face of a woman he hadn’t known existed three weeks ago.

And whom he wouldn’t know how to live without if this fever took her from him.

—

Her fever raged for three days and four very long nights, and on the second night, it climbed so high that Barbara told Jason to prepare for the worst. He barely slept, and he saw to none of the business of the keep.

He would stay in this room, with Elizabeth until she either won this fight — or he’d be with her, holding her when she breathed her last.

He helped Barbara bathe her in cold water that night, pouring freezing water from loch over her body, desperate to bring down the heat in her body—

On the morning of the four day, the fever broke.

Jason had barely slept, and at some point during the night, he laid down next to her, just to watch her— to drink every moment, sure that that at any moment he’d hear the rattle in her throat that had accompanied his mother’s death two winters ago.

He must have drifted off against his will because when he opened his eyes, she was looking at him, frowning slightly.

“You—” He frowned. “Elizabeth.”

“I feel strange,” she said softly, her voice rusty. “What—what happened—”

He sat up, reaching for her hand—her cool, slightly damp skin like a dream. Then Jason pressed a hand to the back of her head. “You—your fever broke.”

“Fever.” Elizabeth winced, closing her eyes. “From—I was hurt? Were…the trees. Oh.” Her eyes flew open. “I fell.”

“You did.”

“You were hurt.”

“Not as bad as you.” He kissed her palm. “And you fought back. You’re all right.”

“Johnny. Francis.”

“They’re okay. We’ve just been waiting on you.” He didn’t understand the tickle in his throat, the way his lungs were aching as he watched her try to look around the room, trying to understand what happened—why she’d woken up where she was.

She was okay. She’d made it through. She lived. He’d brought her home and now he’d keep her safe forever.

“Are—” Elizabeth tried to take a deep breath, but coughed. “Are we at your keep?”

“Yes. We’re at Braegarie,” he told her. He smoothed her hair from her forehead. “We’re home.”

“Home,” she repeated, closing her eyes again. “That sounds nice.”

“Yeah.” He rested his brow against hers. “And I’m going to keep you safe this time. I promise.”

—

“What do you mean you haven’t asked her?” Johnny demanded four days later as he paced the solar set at the front of the keep. Jason winced as he pulled over the estate books and attempted to distract himself.

With Elizabeth still resting in their bedroom, regaining her strength, Jason had tried to distract himself with work, but he had to admit he understood Johnny’s irritation.

“I haven’t asked her,” Jason said slowly, “because she nearly died a week ago, and when she woke up—”

She’d been so happy to be at Braegarie—that Tracy seemed to be at least tolerating her—and some of the other servants had already been kindly predisposed to her because of the way Jason had looked after her personally. SHe’d also been tired and spent a lot of time sleeping.

The last thing Jason wanted to do was bring back the horror of the day—of her plunge from the trees and how close she’d come to whatever those men had planned.

But Johnny was right. He needed to find out why those men had been there. What had been so important about her that men had been paid to lay in wait for the perfect moment—what had they been planning to do to her?

Jason got to his feet. “I’ll take care of it—”

“You know that I don’t think she was involved,” Johnny said. “That I don’t suspect her that I did before. But not being part of the plan, Jason? That’s not the same thing as being ignorant. She has to know why they were there. And what if there’s more of them? Will you keep her locked up in that room forever?’

“No,” Jason said with a growl. “I said I’ll deal with it—”

“I doubt it,” Johnny tossed at him, then stalked from the solar. Jason dragged a hand through his hair, glared at the door—then strode out of it.

Johnny was right. How could Jason keep Elizabeth safe if she wasn’t honest with him?

—

It was the first day since she’d woken up that Elizabeth felt strong enough to get out of the bed, and one of the maids, a vibrant blonde who everyone called Lulu, helped her to a chair by the fireplace. It was so lovely with the fire lit—

She beamed when Jason came in that afternoon, surprised since he rarely visited during the day. He was so busy, and Lulu had said he’d taken care of her himself during the fever. He must care for her a little, and maybe if she told him the truth—if she told him what she was—

It would be okay. If he cared for—

“You’re—” Jason looked at the bed, then at her. “You’re out of bed.”

“Yes. I almost made it myself,” she told him. “Lulu helped the rest of the way, and I think I could even make it to dinner. I’d like to—”

“We need to talk,” he interrupted, and she stopped abruptly, closing her mouth. “About that day in the woods.”

“I know—”

“You told me your secret wouldn’t bring any harm to me or the clan. You’re part of my clan, Elizabeth. You can’t keep your secrets anymore.”

She’d known that—she’d been preparing to tell him the truth—but the words died on the tip of her tongue as he looked at her. The man looking back at her wasn’t the man she’d seen the morning she’d awakend, or the kind and gentle man she’d shared a bed with all those nights on the way home—

It was the man who had sat across from her in that inn Edinburgh, demanding she bare her soul when he’d done nothing but drag her through the mud.

And this man might not understand the truth.

“And if I don’t?” Elizabeth said slowly, forcing her voice to stay steady. “Will you send me back to Edinburgh?”

Jason scowled. “You need to let me protect you, Elizabeth. I can’t keep you safe if I don’t what the risks are. If I had known there was danger—you lied to me—”

“I didn’t—”

“If you won’t let me protect you by telling me the truth, then I’ll have to find another way to do it.” He lifted his chin. “You’ll have my men with you everywhere you go. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” she said softly.

He stared at her for another long moment, then scowled, storming out.

She closed her eyes, took deep breath. At least she had a few memories before it had all ended. Thank God she’d never told him the truth,

January 22, 2021

Your Update Link: A Shot in the Dark – Part 17

Hey! So it’s been one of those insane weeks. It started out rough — you guys know that, based on my post last Sunday where I thought I’d really reached the end of my rope, mental health wise. And then my week continued to go off the rails until Tuesday when I just felt like…insanely exhausted by the whole prospect of the world.

And then Wednesday happened. Lots of good happened in the world that day–the new administration came in, Amanda Gorman’s gorgeous poem, and I also had a MAJOR breakthrough at work. I’ve been working on digital content for my class for the last three straight months, writing digital textbooks and creating interactive notebooks and videos for my students while we’re on remote/hybrid instruction. It was insanely time-consuming and over the last few weeks, I actually chucked a lot of what I’d done in the fall and rewrote it as my ideas and vision for the program changed. It’s literally eaten so much of my time and energy, and just made me feel like I was never going to get to the end of it.  But on Wednesday, I finished. And over the last two days, my entire life feels so different.  I’ve been able to use my prep for grading and getting materials for the rest of the week ready.  I feel so much better and able to take on things.

Today, I learned my district is staying out an additional two weeks. We won’t be returning until February 15, and that’s also a relief. So just a lot of things went better for me this week, and lifted me out of that rock bottom situation I felt like I was in on Tuesday.

So let’s get to the good news!

This is the first time we’ve had facelift news in months! I had some time today (what a strange concept!), and finished some 2002 materials on my Facelift page. Specifically, I finished moving over a cluster of episode tags and challenge responses I’ve gathered on a series page called Take the Chance. I realized I had a ton of short stories set around Elizabeth’s departure from the penthouse that were all very similar and written in 2002. So they’ve all been moved officially into Alternate History (the links are updated on my Alphabetical By Title Page), and they’ve all been updated with timeline information and YouTube videos for any song fictions. I did not update the links on the Ficlet page because eventually, I’ll be deleting that page.

RicochetFool Me Twice is going well. I’m working on Chapter 7 now — Chapter 7 & 8 are new chapters I’m writing tonight and tomorrow. It was just supposed to be one new chapter, but after I revised Chapter 6, I knew I needed more and I’ve added an extra Liason scene, a new Liz/Felix scene, some Cameron scenes — I’m really excited by the changes I’m making. I’ll have a vlog up at some point to talk more about it. I started the subsite for Fool Me Twice. It’s under construction, but you’re welcome to check it out.

That’s it for now! I’ll see you tomorrow!

This entry is part 17 of 18 in the Flash Fiction: Shot in the Dark

Written in 53 minutes.

Mykonos, Greece

So much of that insane trek through the woods on the island felt like a fever dream. Elizabeth scarcely remembered the cottage that had set at the edge of the clearing—there had only been stabbing pain and sweet joy of seeing her little boy for the moment before the world had gone insane.

Now, Jake and her boys were thousand of miles away, safe and sound, tucked away at Greystone with Sonny’s security keeping them in one piece. She stood here in the bedroom where Jake had lived for most of the two years he’d been gone.

The room looked like any other boy’s—the bed was a messy twin, with a tan comforter, pushed back as if who ever had been sleeping in it last had shoved it away and rolled out of bed without a second thought.

There were toys strewn across the floor, including a little red motorcycle. Elizabeth found it on the shelf and picked it up.

“Elizabeth?”

“This is Jake’s.”

Jason frowned, and came over to look at it. “I thought— I gave this to Cameron,” he murmured, taking it from her.

“I know. There’s a scratch from when Cameron crashed it into the fireplace.” Elizabeth ran her fingernail over the thin mar in the paint. “He gave it to Jake that last Christmas. Jake loved to play with it. I—I put it at his grave. The day the stone—” She closed her eyes. “They took this from his grave and brought it to Greece.”

She clutched the motorcycle to her chest. “The next time I went back, I thought—I just thought it was lost or that someone stole it—or that—but it was here. All this time—he was here—” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force down the waves of pain that radiated from everywhere.

“And he had something from his brother the whole time,” Jason reminded her. “This—” He tapped the handlebar. “Jake had part of me and Cam with him. Nikolas kept Cameron in his head, and Jake never forgot his brother. Or you.”

“Or you.” Elizabeth exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry. I just— I look around this room—and I’m trying to be grateful that Jake was treated well. That even his own twisted way, Stavros loved him. That’s—that’s better. And he’s young. Kevin Collins said he doesn’t see any of the same behaviors they saw in Lucky. No memory lapses. Nothing. He’s perfect.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that the Cassadines stole those years from us,” Jason said. “From you. Jake should have been with you and his brothers. Not here. We never should have had to buy a grave or a stone with his name on it.”

“Laura warned me about wanting revenge,” Elizabeth murmured, “but it’s all I can think about. I left my boys at home so I could hunt down the woman who did this. I could live with the WSB going after the rest of the Cassadines, you know? Mikkos, Valentin—that’s their problem. But Helena—”

She stared at the motorcycle. “I want to know where Nikolas is, I want to know what the hell the other Cassadines have planned—the world needs to be safe from them, and I meant what I said—I can’t bear for them to come back one day. But if we can get rid of Helena—” She met his eyes. “The boys could be safer with her gone.

“Then we’ll find Helena and we’ll kill her,” Jason said simply. “Let’s search the rest of the cottage to see if Nikolas left anything for you.”

Two hours of taking the cottage apart, of searching every nook and cranny—even the mattresses once Jason had slit them open with the switch blade he had in his back pocket—

There was nothing.

Elizabeth sighed. “Maybe he just didn’t have time,” she murmured. “Is he dead? Did Stavros—”

“I thought so, too,” Jason admitted, “but now that we’re here—now that I’m looking at the island again with a clearer head—I don’t think so. Stavros wasn’t that far behind us. Maybe two or three minutes. If he’d killed Nikolas, he wouldn’t have time to deal with the body.”

“So he went to set the explosions instead?” Elizabeth asked. “Why hasn’t he gotten in touch? It’s been a week. Longer than—”

“I don’t know.” They left the cottage and headed back towards the main estate—the ruins of the old Gothic castle that seemed so out of place on a Mediterranean castle.

“I hope they’re having better luck with the tunnels,” Elizabeth said, rubbing her arms. “Who ever set those explosions knew what they were doing.”

“Not enough to make sure that everyone was dead.” Jason squinted, stopping in the field a few hundred yards away from the estate. He turned back to look out over the horizon here were blue waters of the Aegean sparkled against the sun.

“What are you thinking?”

“That day was a lot,” he said. “We landed here early in the morning,” he continued. “You were stabbed by nine—”

“And we were on our way to the island by four.”

“Stavros was minutes behind us,” Jason repeated. “But that whole confrontation in the woods—it was less than five minutes. I put you down, started to rewrap your wound—” He squinted. “Then Stavros was there, and I didn’t even get a chance to think before you shot him.”

“Sorry if I stole your thunder,” she said with a raised brow. He shook his head.

“No, I mean, it was fast. We were on that beach minutes after Laura left. And it felt like forever,” he admitted, “but Anna was there in another ten. We were on this island for maybe thirty minutes. Ten minutes to the cottage, ten minutes back, and ten minutes in between for everything else. And it might not have been that long.”

“Okay—”

“And look—we’re walking from the cottage—and we’re still, what—half a mile from the house? Even if he was running—Where did Robert say the bombs were set?” Jason turned his attention back to the crumbling remains.

“On the far side of the island, near the marine, and in the center of the house. But we don’t know if they were detonated manually or—” She paused. “But if Nikolas went to set the bombs, it would be manually. Not remote.”

“I don’t know. There’s just something about the time line that doesn’t make sense. If it was remotely, Nikolas could have come with us and set the bombs from the boat. If it was manual, he might have had enough time to get to the house but barely. The estate exploded when we go to the airport. The airport is five minutes from the pier.”

“So we’re saying that twenty minutes after after Nikolas brought Jake to us, the house exploded,” Elizabeth said slowly. She looked back at the cottage—it was a mile from the house. With adrenaline— “How fast can you do mile?”

“Maybe fifteen minutes,” Jason admitted. “Twelve if I push it. It’s not something I have to do much.”

“And you’re in better shape than Nikolas. Could he have—” She folded her arms. “We thought Stefan set one of the bombs. Maybe he set the one down at the marina to stop the guards from getting on the boats.”

“Maybe,” Jason said slowly, “or maybe the people at the house knew about the breach—” He turned to look at Elizabeth. “And knew that we’d be distracted by looking for bodies.”

“Oh.” She hissed. “You think the Cassadines blew up the damn estate themselves to get away from the WSB.”

“Which means they knew about the bombs being set and where they were.”

“Let’s get back to the house and talk to Robert and Laura.”

Bryanka, Ukraine

The woman crept through the door, closing it behind her, and breathing a sigh of relief. She’d made it to the rendezvous. Now it was time to regroup—

“What did you do to my boy?”

She paused as the voice behind her echoed in the empty room of the small house. A match was struck—and the room was dimly lit. She turned to find a candle in the middle of a beaten up and scratched table had been lit, and a man sat at table.

Helena Cassadine’s lips curved into a smile as she took in the presence of her oldest—and dearest—enemy. “Well, Luke Spencer, just when you think a man can’t surprise you anymore.”

“What,” Luke said, leaning forward, the candle’s flame illuminating his cold, dark blue eyes and the rage lit within, did you do to my boy?”

“What did I do to the precious Lucas Lorenzo Spencer, Junior?” Helena murmured, pausing deliberately on each word of the name. “Nothing.”

“That’s a lie!” Luke roared, lunging to his feet.

“Well, I’ve done nothing new,” Helena insisted, amused by his reaction. “It’s hardly my fault if you didn’t notice all the differences over the years. You tried to undo all my hard work, my dear, but his mind had been changed—”

“No, no, he was okay—he was my boy again—!”

“Was he?” Helena raised her brows. “Well, perhaps you were satisfied. Others clearly weren’t. How is Elizabeth? Has she recovered? I look forward to seeing her. We have unfinished business—and Laura—”

“Too long,” Luke said, “too long I’ve let you go after my family. I thought it was amusing to play with you, to toy with you. I should have gutted you the first time you put your hands on my son.”

“But you didn’t, and here we are—” Helena sighed. “How did you find me, anyway?”

“Sometimes, Mother—” Helena whirled around as another man bled out of the shadows. Her eyes bulged as Stefan stepped into the dim light of the candle. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“No—no—” She turned to Luke, then back to Stefan. “You—you were part of it. I brought you back! I put you under my control! You were chipped—”

“I was,” Stefan murmured, “but I’m not anymore. Where is Father? He should have been with you.”

Drawing herself up regally, Helena lifted her chin, a woman who knew her time was running out. “You don’t know everything.”

“True.” Stefan flicked his eyes to Luke. “I’ll find him, but she’s all yours.”

Helena looked away from the eternal disappointment of her youngest son—she should have strangled him in the cradle. He’d never measure up to either his brother or father. “I’m surprised you came alone, Luke. No Elizabeth or Laura? I would have thought they’d be eager to finish me off.”

“They are. And so is Jason Morgan. You didn’t think that through, Hells,” Luke said, cracking his first grin. “That is a man you do not fuck with.”

“I’m alive so far—”

“I considered trussing you like a Christmas goose to deliver at my angel’s feet—to let Laura and Elizabeth decide what to do with you after what you’ve done to them.”

“That sounds like a fair thing to go. And they’re quite capable of dealing with me—”

“Oh, no doubt,” Luke said, “I think you’d be surprised by the streak of coldness that runs in Elizabeth’s veins. She’d probably slit your throat and bathe in the blood.”

Helena pressed her lips together. “How can you deny them that chance?”

“It’s simple.” Luke drew out a gun from the inside of her jacket, and her pulse started to race. “I know they could do it. I know they could end you and sleep like babies afterward. I just don’t see why they should have to when I can save them the trouble.”

“You always did monologue too much, Spencer,” Stefan said dryly.

“You never did appreciate the show,” Luke shot back. He focused on Helena. “I’m done asking Laura and Elizabeth do my dirty work.” He aimed the gun, then pulled the trigger.

The bullet exploded a hole in the front of Helena’s head—her elegant features destroyed in an instant as her lifeless body dropped to the floor.

Luke stared down at it, feeling nothing as the old woman’s blood seeped out, what was left of one eye remaining open. “Let them bring you back from that.”

January 17, 2021

Your Update Link: A Shot in the Dark – Part 16

If you usually skip my blog updates, I get it. I’m asking you to read this one because I’ve asked for this before, and I think maybe some people missed it. Thanks. 

Hello 🙂 Thanks for the response to yesterday’s flash fiction. I won’t be updating tomorrow even though I have the day off from work. I’ll be spending my morning working on digital content for my students, my afternoon editing Fool Me Twice, and then relaxing in the evening.

I don’t anticipate changing my Flash Fiction schedule from the Friday-Sunday updates,. In fact, the only reason I can update on Friday nights this year is that my school district has made that a half day and I don’t have to spend all six hours teaching Zoom classes. Next year, when the schedule is back to normal, I won’t be updating on Fridays at all. The good news is that after next weekend, A King’s Command shifts to double updates, so you’ll get more that story more often so hopefully that’ll  make up for the cliffhanger.

Please do not ask me to increase my posting, even if you think you’re joking around or that it’s not a big deal. I already feel guilty enough for having started these stories and promised updates last fall, then not being able to deliver on that.  I love reading my replies,, and I love every single one of you who posts. I honestly don’t think you know how much I appreciate you and look forward to the replies. Now, I feel tense and worried before reading them.

I need you guys to think about what my life looks like right now as a remote teacher. I spend literally my entire day glued to the computer screen. I am on this computer from 7-3 teaching Zoom, going to meetings, and creating content. I never get a break from this computer, and there are days I don’t even want to look at it. Honestly, I got those replies as I was prepping to write tonight’s Flash Fiction, and I wanted to just close the entire laptop and walk away.

And that’s not your fault. That’s on me for not managing my stress and anxiety better. For not setting more realistic goals last fall, and not being kinder to myself about this flash fiction hole I’ve dug myself.

I try to be very transparent about my schedule — when I’m going to post, when I’m not — and what kind of content you can expect. I set deadlines and dates so that I’m not disappearing for weeks and months at a time. And I don’t mind doing any of that. All I’m asking is that you respect my schedule and not ask me to post extra on top of the content I already do. Flash Fiction Updates take almost 90 minutes of my time from prepping the posts and the site and then the writing–and that’s three times a week.

I love my Patreon supporters who keep this site funded, I love the readers who reply to every single thing I post, and I love the people who just visit and read (I see the hits, so I know you’re here). I’m just asking you guys to respect my time, too.

I repeat. I love you all. I am extraordinarily lucky to have the kind of community I do for the genre and fandom that I write. Please don’t think I’m not grateful. I just need some kindness and patience in return.

Thanks and I’ll see you guys next Friday.

This entry is part 16 of 18 in the Flash Fiction: Shot in the Dark

Written in 58 minutes. No time for spellcheck or typos.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Laura demanded as she watched Elizabeth sit down on the sofa, wincing slightly as the stitches in her side tugged. “You’ve only been home for three days—”

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Jason before he took the boys over to Carly’s house,” Elizabeth said. “I need to know what happened to Nikolas. If he’s alive and in hiding or if he’s—” She pressed her lips together. “We need answers, Laura. You need them, Spencer does—and so does Jake. He remembers his uncle as someone who promisd he’d bring him home. Nikolas made sure my little boy came home. I need to do that for him.”

“You don’t owe me—”

“This isn’t about that,” Elizabeth said, reaching forward to touch Laura’s hand. “This isn’t about what happened with Lucky. This is about me. I don’t just want answers about Nikolas. I want—” She hesitated. “I want revenge.”

“That’s a tricky path to tread,” Laura cautioned. “I know—I’ve gone down it myself.”

“Losing my little boy broke me into pieces,” Elizabeth said. “It made me someone else. I nearly lost my sanity and my children. My life.” Restless, she stood up and went over to the mantel where she’d had a photo of Jake at his last Christmas for the last few years. She’d replaced with a new photo—one of her three boys with Jake at the center.

“Helena doesn’t get to just walk away from this. Neither does any other Cassadine who helped it.” Elizabeth turned back to Laura. “I shot Stavros in the head, so at least there’s something. Robin said Stavros had taken my son and wanted to raise him as his own. I stopped that. But it’s not enough. They always come back, Laura. They’ve spent decades torturing all of us. I can’t bear to think that Spencer and Cameron might have to face another generation some day. It has to stop with us.”

“I wish I’d seen it,” Laura murmured. “Jason said there was brain matter, and maybe I shouldn’t take enjoyment from that, but I do.” She met Elizabeth’s eyes. “What does Jason think?”

“Jason wants Cassadine blood more than I do. He doesn’t really want me involved, but I think that’s because I’m not a hundred percent yet,” she admitted. “But I will be.”

“Before all of this started—” Laura tilted her head to the side. “You and I had a conversation about Jason. About your relationship with him. I wondered if maybe things had changed.”

“That feels like so long ago.” Elizabeth exhaled slowly. “When we got to Greece, Jason sat back and let you and I take charge. Did you notice that?”

“I did.”

“Something changed when we found out there was a chance Jake was alive. Not just—” Elizabeth chewed on her bottom lip. “I don’t know how to explain it. It just—it changed me. I looked at Jason, and I saw what he was doing here. He asked to adopt Cameron, Laura. And I—” She paused. “He wants this life with me. I didn’t trust it before, and I can’t tell you why I believe it now. But I do.”

Laura turned at the sound of an SUV pulling into the driveway. “Well, he’s back with Sonny, and I think Robert and Anna are pulling up behind him, so it’s time to find out what we know now that the reports from Greece are in and what’s next.”

The reports from Greece, however, weren’t encouraging.

“No bodies,” Sonny repeated. “I know enough about Cassadines to know that’s a bad sign.”

“No chance we’re looking at incineration?” Robin asked as she looked over the report her father handed her. “I mean, isn’t it possible?”

“They don’t think the fire got hot enough,” Robert said with a shake of his head. “The real problem is that the estate is a labrynth of tunnels and passageways. The main house collapsed on itself, and we’re still not all the way through it.”

“Any sign of Valentin?” Elizabeth asked. “The Cassadine they were waiting on to start whatever Helena had planned?”

“He made it to Mykonos, and as far as the harbor,” Robert responded. “Then disappeared. So he’s in the wind.”

“What do we know about Valentin?” Jason asked. “Spinelli said he couldn’t find much.”

“There isn’t much to find. He’s the illegitimate son of Mikkos — younger than Alexis,” Anna added. “He worked for the WSB for a time—I know, don’t start,” she said when Laura huffed. “But he turned rogue for DVX. Only worked there a few years before the wall fell and they were all out of a job. Rumors that he went KGB—”

“I hate Russians,” Sonny muttered.

“But he’s stayed under the radar, mostly working as a mercenary for hire in Russia and Eastern Europe.”

“What kind of mercenary do they need there?” Patrick asked, furrowing his brow. “I thought mercenaries were like Rambo—”

“Assassin,” Jason said, surprising them all. Robert lifted his brows as Jason ganced up, realizing no one had said anything else. “If he was working for the KGB in Eastern Europe, he probably took care of those journalists a few years ago. The ones in Bosnia? And then the one in Britain?”

“Correct,” Robert said. “WSB intel says Valentin is one of Putin’s best assassins. He specializes in poisons.”

“How did he get hired at the WSB as a Cassadine?” Sonny asked. “Wouldn’t that keep you out?”

“You’d think,” Anna said, “but Victor Cassadine is running our research program. I don’t make the calls,” she added, when Laura stared at her in disbelief. “I’m a field agent. Robert and I don’t do administration.”

“But I don’t remember Valentin being a player in Cassadine schemes,” Elizabeth said. “Nikolas never mentioned him, and I know he wasn’t someone you and Luke worried during Endgame.”

“No, Valentin wasn’t on the radar back then. After what happened to Alexis’s mother, he kept his affairs more quiet,” Laura said. “After Mikkos died, I think Valentin fell through the cracks. Helena wasn’t thinking about him.”

“Then why get involved now?” Sonny wanted to know. “I get that it was a huge reunion, but, uh, Helena never liked Mikkos’s bastards. She’s been half-trying to kill Alexis her whole damn life. Why invite one to the table?”

“If we knew why Valentin was there, we could maybe figure out if he’s a threat. If he’s not—” Robert began.

“He’s a Cassadine,” Jason said tightly. “They all go.”

Anna’s lips thinned as she hesitated. “This isn’t that kind of mission, Jason. I appreciate your anger over what happened to Jake, but if we’re involving you—”

“You can cut me out,” Jason said, locking eyes with the older woman, “but that won’t stop me. The Cassadines came after my family. And if Helena is still breathing, she’ll keep coming. She knows what Elizabeth and her boys mean to Laura. She’ll keep coming through them. She goes. They all go.”

“I agree with him,” Robert said, stunning Anna. “And that’s not from the head office. It’s not revenge, either,” he said before his ex-wife could open her mouth to protest. “The Cassadines are a threat to the world, but Morgan’s right. If Helena has breath left in that body, she’ll come for Laura. And she’ll come for Elizabeth. You made the kill shot on Stavros,” he said as Elizabeth sighed. “I don’t know if she knows that now, but she will. The only body we found was his. And the bullet matched your gun,” Robert told Jason. “I made the report disappear. Officially, none of us were on that island.”

“But Helena has her ways of learning information,” Laura said with a nod. “And even if she doesn’t know Elizabeth fired the shot, she’ll come for Jason through you. It’s not over because we have Jake.”

“Now that we’re all in agreement that the Cassadines need to go,” Sonny said, “anyone got any suggestions for what we do next? Or are we just spinning our wheels?”

“I’m heading back to Greece to start excavation of the estate,” Robert declared. “It might take a few months, but we’ll get to every damn stone of the island. I was hoping Robin might come back with me to look over the plans and tunnels.”

“I want to go, too,” Elizabeth said before Robin could say anything. “I want—” She paused. “I want to see where Jake was living. The cottage wasn’t blown up, was it?” she asked. “There might be something there that Nikolas left for me. Or—”

“Is it a good idea for you to go back into field?” Anna asked. “You’re still recovering—”

“I’m good enough,” she said. “Can I go?”

“Uh,” Robert pursed his lips. “Yeah, I guess. That’s probably a good idea,” he admitted. “If Robin can help us with the intel on her side of the island, you knew Nikolas longer and a bit better. Of course, Laura—” He eyed Jason and Sonny. “Are we bringing the whole gang?”

“Spinelli will want to go to see if there’s some networks he didn’t crack the first time,” Sonny said, “But I’ll stay behind with the kids to keep them from trying that unaccompanied minor crap.”

“I’m going if you are,” Jason told Elizabeth, and she smiled.

“I didn’t expect anything else.”

Later that night, after they’d put the kids to bed and made plans to leave for Greece in a few days, Elizabeth caught Jason watching her as she checked the stitches in her side—they were the dissolving kind and were already starting to heal into her skin.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, pulling the comforter back.

“Not arguing with me about Greece.” She twisted on the stool at her vanity table. “I know you don’t want me to go.”

“There are times I don’t want to let you out of this room,” Jason admitted. “But you’re right. If Nikolas left anything for anyone to find, it’d be you. It just makes sense.” He paused. “What are we going to tell the boys?”

“The same thing we did today when we sent them to Carly’s,” Elizabeth said. “Cameron knows how dangerous the Cassadines are, and obviously Jake does.” She paused. “I don’t want to leave him,” she said softly. “I’m afraid to let him out of my sight. I woke up in the hospital, and I thought—”

She looked at herself in the mirror. “I thought it was a dream. That I’d hallucinated everything. Like I did when I had pneumonia. Do you remember?”

“I do.” Jason sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s not a dream.”

“No. But every time I go to sleep, I’m terrified this is the night the dream ends. I’ll wake up and my baby is gone again. And we’ll be back to marking holidays without him, and I’ll wrapping gifts he doesn’t ever get to open—” She squeezed her eyes shut as he came up behind her, put his hands on her shoulders. “Laura told me I had to be careful about going after the Cassadines for revenge. I know she’s right. But I want Helena to pay for every day I woke up without Jake. For every day he had to beg Nikolas to bring him home, and Nikolas didn’t.”

“I know,” Jason said. He drew Elizabeth to her feet. “Because I want her to pay for every tear you cried. For every minute of pain she put Cameron through. But it doesn’t matter if I kill her or if you do. Revenge isn’t going to make it so none of that ever happened.”

“No, it won’t,” Elizabeth said. She lifted her eyes to meet his. “But killing her and every other Cassadine as evil as she is will make it over. We need to finish it, Jason, so that they never have to take up the fight. I don’t want to be like Laura, mourning both my boys because I didn’t do enough. Helena Casasdine and her damn family aren’t going to take one more thing from me.”

This entry is part 13 of 27 in the Flash Fiction: A King's Command

Written in 59 minutes. No time for edits or spellcheck.

 

The final days of the journey to Braegarie were the most difficult, Jason had warned Elizabeth in advance. It would take them away from a water source for the final two days, into the dense wooded hills of the Highlands with few natural clearings.

This night, by the shores of a small loch, would be the last one they’d spend by the water, he told her as Johnny and Francis set up the camp for the night, and then Jason went to work on the tent.

“It would take nearly three weeks to go around,” Johnny told Elizabeth as she organized their rations of food for the night near the fire Francis was building.

She smiled at him, reflecting on how much had changed in the five days since they’d left Perth. Johnny O’Brien, the sullen Irishman had decided she was okay for a Lowlands lass after all, and had been very nearly kind to her over the last few days. Francis had always been cordial to her, but she felt the sincerity from both of them growing over these last few days.

She told Jason as much that night when she crawled beneath the furs of the palette and he turned to her, his face dimly visible in the shadows of the tent. “Highlanders are always suspicious of strangers,” he told her, sliding the tips of his fingers down her torso, and she shivered. “It’s how we stay alive.”

“I know it’ll be harder when we get to the keep,” she told him as she cuddled closer—it was so cold when the sun dropped behind the trees and hills and Jason seemed to radiate heat. “I’ll have to start all over with your aunt, but if they see Johnny and Francis trust me—“

“It’ll be fine,” Jason promised her, rising up on his elbow, his brow darkening with a scowl. “I’ll make it fine.”

She rolled her eyes—he would likely be able to command most of the men, but Elizabeth knew it would take time to convince the women. Still, it was a sharp turn from the way their marriage had begun, just barely two weeks earlier on the streets of the Royal Mile, with Jason nearly dragging her through the streets, furious with the turn of events.

“What are you thinking about?” he murmured, touching her lips with the tip of his index finger.

“The day we wed,” she admitted honestly. “How different it is now.”

Jason’s lips thinned. “I regret—“

“No—“ She shook her head, cutting him off. “No regrets. Everything—every word, every action—it led us to this moment.” She slid her fingers into his hair. “And this is a good moment. Isn’t it?”

“A very good one,” he murmured, then bowed his head to kiss her.

—

It was hours later, not too terribly far away from dawn when Jason’s eyes simply opened. He frowned into the shadows of the night, trying to understand what had jarred him from sleep. There were no sounds—no voices outside the tent calling for his attention. He listened to the world around him—to the sounds of the trees, and the leaves rustling—the gentle lapping of the loch as wind pushed across the surface—

Nothing.

Then he felt it. A movement at his side.

Thinking Elizabeth had stirred because of him, Jason rolled his body over. She’d turned away in the night—after they’d made love and she’d burrowed into the furs and comfort of the makeshift bed—and she was facing the other side of the tent.

He rose up on his elbow to get a better look at her—was she awake? Or had she simply moved—

Her face was scrunched up as though she’d eaten something tart—her lips pursed—her eyes narrowed into slits—her breathing was fast. Almost shallow. Then she whimpered.

“Elizabeth—“ Alarmed, Jason touched her shoulder, fingers sliding across her bare skin like an electric shock.

She hissed, then sucked in a huge breath, jerking away with a start. Her breathing became even more rapidly as she shoved away from him—from their bed—

“What? What’s wrong? What’s going on? What’s happening?”

Her voice was pitched high, the words were sharp, tumbling over one another— “Jason? Where are you? I can’t find you—“

“Elizabeth—“ Jason reached for her shoulders, dragging one of the furs with him to wrap around her body and draw her closer to him—but she rebuffed him, throwing up her hands in defense.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t—What’s happening—“

“Elizabeth—“

“Jason—“

He turned at the sound of Johnny’s voice outside the tent.

“What’s going on?” his first demanded.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep,” Jason hissed at him, not wanting the man to flip back the tent flap and find his nude wife having some sort of attack—

But the interruption seemed to have broken—when Jason looked back, Elizabeth was staring at him, her eyes wide.

“Jason?”

His relief was quick—she sounded like herself again. Soft. A bit scared, but it was his wife. She reached for the fur he’d tried to put around her, and he helped her come back to the bed.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“I don’t know.” Jason cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing her cheek. “Were you having a bad dream?”

“Dream?” she repeated. “A dream.” She closed her eyes. “Oh. Yes. Yes. It must—it must have been a dream. I’m sorry. I haven’t—“

“Do you remember any of it? Will it help to talk of it?” he asked, nearly undone by the single tear that slid down her cheek.

“It was—“ She cleared her throat. “I don’t remember—“

“Elizabeth.”

She stopped speaking. Their eyes held. “You were bleeding,” she said softly. “And I tried to stop it, but then my hands were covered in blood. And it was my fault.” She faltered. “I don’t know why—“

He wasn’t familiar with dreams—he didn’t dream and if any of his men did, they never said. “It was a dream,” he reminded her. “I’m not bleeding. And look—“ He held up her hands which were barely visible in the darkness—but the pale skin was evident. “No blood on your hands. It was a dream,” he repeated.

“A dream,” Elizabeth said with a nod. “Just…just a dream. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to wake—or—“ She looked back towards the front of the tent. “Was that Johnny I heard?”

“It’s fine.” He kissed her forehead and pulled her more tightly against her, unhappy with how chilled her skin was. “He’ll get over it. Go back to sleep. You need your rest for the next few days.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

“Don’t apologize,” he said, and he winced because the words sounded more sharp than he meant them to. “I just—I was…” He grappled with how to explain himself. “I was worried,” he said finally. “But you’re all right. And so am I. That’s what matters. Go back to sleep,” he said again, but made sure his tone was softer.

She never did drift back into sleep—he never felt her body soften and relax against him the way she did when she slid into dreams at night—and maybe that was for the best if nightmares like that were waiting for her when she closed her eyes.

—

The next morning, Elizabeth was determined to put the entire thing out of her head. She refused to think it was a vision of the future she’d seen in her head. It couldn’t be. She wasn’t going to hurt her new husband—why would she? And Jason was stronger than a hundred men—

It had just been her nerves and worry. They were only two days away from Braegarie— front the start of her new life. It was natural.

With that firmly in her mind, she helped Jason pack their things from the tent and their party got back onto the trail.

Jason had been right to warn her that the next leg of the journey would be more difficult. The land was steeper—and it climbed more sharply. Their horses went slower as they carefully picked their way over the rocky hills and wound through dense woods on a narrow trails.

At noon, Jason called for a break and helped her down from the horse. “There’s just the one clearing near here,” he told her. “We’ll exercise your muscles to keep them loose—we won’t be able to stop at supper.”

“Oh, we could—“ When he just stared at her, she nodded. “All right.” She wound her arm through his as they left Johnny and Francis with the horses. “I’m doing much better than I was when we left Edinburgh,” she said, irritated with how bright and strange her voice felt.

“You are. When we come back to Edinburgh, you’ll be comfortable,” he replied. When they reached the clearing nearly ten minutes later, Jason turned her so that they were facing one another. “Are you all right? I know you didn’t sleep well—do you dream like that often?”

“Not terribly.” She looked away. “Just sometimes. And I don’t know if they’re always bad. I haven’t shared my bed with anyone before now.”

“Are you angry with me?” he asked, his brows drawing together.

“No, I’m—“ Elizabeth sighed. “I’m angry with myself. For having a dream like that and upsetting you. For making you worry about me. I’m not weak.”

“Did someone say you were?” Jason demanded. He glanced back towards the trail from where they’d come. “Did Johnny or Francis—“

“No—“ Elizabeth began, but then stopped. Because his face changed. It tightened and his eyes sharpened as he whipped his head around to the other direction. “Jason—“

“Quiet. Behind me,” he said flatly even as he took her arm and pushed her. As Elizabeth hurried to obey him, she was stunned to see a trio of Highlanders stepping out from the trees at the other side of the clearing. Not men from Jason’s clan, clearly from the way he was acting and the colors they were.

“We’ll be taking the lass now,” the one in the middle said, sauntering forward. “And before ye call for your men—“

Elizabeth turned towards the trail—and uttered a sharp cry of alarm as two more men came from behind them — dragging Francis with them, his brow bloody, his body sagging. Where was Johnny? They must have been attacked as soon Jason and Elizabeth had disappeared from view—

Were these men waiting? How had they known—

“Don’t be making a mistake, my laird,” the man called, drawing their attention back to the first group of men. “No harm, no foul. We’ll take the lass off your hands, you tell the world she died on the way home, and no one will even blink—“

Jason said nothing, but his body was as tight as a rock. He was outnumbered and had no weapon that she was aware of.

“What will it be, Laird? You either die now or at home in bed as a old man. Either way, we’ll be taking her.”

“Not while I draw breath,” Jason growled.

“Jason,” she breathed. “Please—“ Oh, God. Oh, God. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a dream.

He’d be broken, bloody, and bruised. And the blood would be on her hands. Someone had come for her. Someone had known. And she’d not warned them. She’d not told him her secret and it had put them all into danger—

“Can you climb a tree?” Jason murmured, his voice so low that Elizabeth could scarcely hear him.

Not since she was a child, but— “Aye,” she breathed.

“When I say run — go to to the left and climb the first you see until you can go no higher,” he murmured. “You’re lighter and quicker.”

“Laird, I’m getting impatient!”

“It’s our best chance,” he continued, his voice so soft she had to stretch to hear him. “Elizabeth?”

“Aye,” she managed, her voice trembling.

“Go!” he ordered and she ran.

January 15, 2021

Your Update Link: A Shot in the Dark – Part 15

Happy Friday! We’re back for another trio of flash fiction updates — two updates with A Shot in the Dark, and then A King’s Command tomorrow. I’ll be updating tomorrow in the morning or early afternoon because I have plans tomorrow night. I think A Shot in the Dark is wrapping up sometime next week, but I don’t know for sure. As always, I’m prepping this post before I write so I don’t know where the story is going to take me.  Also — sorry that this is being posted late. I usually start writing around 7 PM and post at 8, but I decided to order dinner at the last minute and it took longer than I thought it would to get here.

I definitely feel like 2021 is kicking my ass so far over these last two weeks. I didn’t sleep well at all this week, particularly last night. I’ve been dragging all day, and it’s messing me up. The good news is that I have a three day weekend and some plans with my quarantine pod — my mother, my sister, and her kids — are going to get together and start a monthly murder mystery game, lol. Then my middle niece is gonna bunk overnight and go out to breakfast on Sunday. (While I’m typing this, my sister has sent me a video of the trio holding a mock court session where the middle niece is deciding who gets the next shower — and my older niece’s defense is that the little brother is really mean “I mean, I am, too but he’s worse!” can you even deal with that level of cute???)

In other, more fun news! I mentioned in my 2021 Preview Video that I wanted to start thinking about CG’s 20th anniversary (which I know is 18 months away, but I’m a prepper) so next week, I’m starting a series on the YouTube channel — Crimson Glass Origins. Basically a narrative of my writing career — where I started as a GH fan, why I started writing, how each of my stories developed and my writing changed. I have four episodes filmed (and it only takes us through the fall of 2002 and talking about Deserving & Surviving the Past), but I’m still editing the first one. I’ll be posting it on (I think) Wednesdays, with a companion series on Friday — Crimson Glass Future Projects — where I talk about the Future Projects page and preview things on the drawing board. I’ll let you know if that date changes. I think I want to have a few episodes edited before I actually upload and post the first one.

I did post a new FMT video on the channel, but I forgot to make a post on the site — I’ll link it below. I’m finished formatting the flashbacks, and I’m so excited to dig into them this week. I’ve got a lot of great edits and revisions planned over the next week.

And the best news — FMT finally has book titles! I realized last night I’ve been calling them Books 1, 2, and 3 for over a year — but finally, I can tell you that Fool Me Twice, Book 1: Ricochet will be published on Tuesday, February 23, 2021. Very excited to have you guys read this first entry, and I can’t wait to see what you guys think about my take on the great twinning.

No word yet on if we’re going back to school on Feb 1. I should find out on Monday since the district is usually giving us two weeks notice if we’re going to stay out. Honestly, based on my region’s numbers, I imagine we’re pushing back the return another two weeks. Not that I want it, but now that NJ is so close to opening up vaccinations to teachers, I kinda hope they let us stay out until I can get at least the first dose.

This entry is part 15 of 18 in the Flash Fiction: Shot in the Dark

Written in 65 minutes. Sorry. Went a bit over. No time for spellcheck.

“I need you to run that by me just one more time.”

Patrick growled as he pushed past the speechless chief of staff and stalked towards an empty wheelchair. “I’ve got Elizabeth in the car—burning up from infection—and you’re gonna start with the jokes.”

“What do you expect from me?” Steven Webber demanded as he jogged after his best friend towards the SUV parked haphazardly at the curb. “You just told me you two days ago you and Bits were taking off without any damn notice, and now you’re saying my sister was stabbed in Greece—what the hell was—“

Then he stopped as the passenger door shoved open and Robin stepped out. His eyes grew wide as he looked back at Patrick who was carefully lifting Elizabeth out of the backseat, helped by Robert while Anna leaned over to let them know she was parking the car.

“What the absolute hell is going on right now?” he demanded. Steven jabbed a finger at Robin. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Supposed to be. I’m not. It runs in the family,” Robin said dryly as she followed Patrick and her father into the hospital. “Try to keep up.”

“Where the hell is Jason?” STeven demanded. “Why aren’t you dead? Where are my nephews? How did this—“

Elizabeth winced as she pressed a hand to her side. “Jason had to go home to be with the boys. He’ll be here later.” She offered Patrick a dry look. “Unless you were lying to him about me not dying.”

“Hey, all I ever promised was that I’d get you to GH alive,” Patrick said. He wheeled her up to the nurse’s desk where Epiphany Johnson merely lifted a brow. “Everything after that is on you.”

“Damn it, tell me what the hell is going on!” Steven exploded. “Who stabbed you? Was this because of Jason? I told you—“

“Actually—“ Elizabeth grimaced. “It was because of me. So shut up, get out of my way, and let Patrick give me some goddamn pain medication.”

—

Jason had wanted to go with Elizabeth to the hospital—hadn’t wanted to let her out of his sight, but she’d pushed him to take Jake home. To get back to Cameron and Spencer who were probably scared as hell.

It was one thing to stick together in the woods in Greece, sending Jake back to the boat with Sonny and refusing to leave her then—but they were parents now. The danger was over.

If she was going to be in the hospital, Jason had to step up at home.

Jason put the SUV into park in the driveway, and glanced over his shoulder at Jake in the booster seat in the back of the car, his head lolled over to the side, dozing gently, before looking at Laura in the passenger seat next to him.

Her face was grimly set as she stared at the house. “Maybe we should have put this off longer,” she murmured. “Dante could have kept the boys at Greystone.”

“He could have,” Jason said. “Laura—“

“It’s just—Spencer’s been through so much. And the last thing, I want him to tell him is that his father might not—“ Her voice broke slightly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. This is so selfish. You want to be with Jake, and Jake needs his brothers. And Cameron—God, Cameron needs Jake—“

“Laura.”

Jason waited for her to meet his eyes. “I’m angry about what happened to Elizabeth,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t remember what you’re going through. Spencer needs you, but I think maybe it might help him to see Jake. To see what his father did. If Nikolas didn’t make it, I will always be grateful that the last thing he ever did was get my son away from Stavros Cassadine.”

“Thank you.” Laura took a deep breath. “Let’s go inside.”

Inside, Dante was at the dining room table with the trio of gathered around him, all of them picking at slices of pizza. When Laura pushed open the door, he shot to his feet. “Hey. You’re back.”

“You’re—“ Cameron swung his head around as Jason came in behind Laura, Jake cradled in his arms, still sleeping. His blue eyes were wide as he took in his brother. “That’s…that’s really him.”

Spencer was quiet as he got to his feet, shoving the chair out. He looked past Jason — but no one else was coming in. “Where’s everyone else?” he asked. “Where’s my dad?”

“Where’s Mom?” Cameron asked, his voice rising sharply. “Mom! Is she in the car?”

“Laura—“ Jason looked her, and she sighed.

“Dante, do me a favor,” Laura said to her son-in-law. “Come upstairs with me? We’ll take Jake up to finish his nap, and I can talk to Spencer. Jason needs to talk to Cameron.” She paused. “Emma, you can stay down here.”

“Okay,” Dante agreed as Cameron started to blink rapidly, his chest rising. He strode over to Jason, looking at the little boy cradled against Jason’s torso. “Hell of a thing,” he muttered as the older man gently transfered the precious little boy to Sonny’s son. “Look at him.”

“Spencer?” Laura said, gently.

“Okay.” Spencer looked at Cameron and Emma. “Whatever happens,” he said, taking a deep breath, “it’s okay. Because Jake is home. And that’s what everyone wanted. Honor—I think maybe honor is restored. And your mom would be happy.”

With that, he followed his grandmother up the stairs and Jason gestured for Cameron and Emma to come sit on the sofa.

“First, Mom’s okay,” Jason told Cameron who exhaled on a quick rush of air. “She got hurt, and we were worried for a minute. But Uncle Patrick took real good care of her.” He looked at Emma. “And so did your mother.”

“My—“ Emma’s eyes were round. “What? Wait. What.”

“Aunt Robin?” Cameron asked. “Wait—“

“The Cassadines didn’t just take Jake away,” Jason told them. “They made us all think Robin was gone, too. Emma, your mother is alive. And she’s at GH with your father, taking care of Elizabeth.”

“My mom—“ Emma’s lip trembled. “My mom is okay? She’s alive? She’s okay. She’s home. She’s here. My mom? Mommy—I want to talk to her. I want to see her.”

“I know. And I want that, too. She wants that. She wanted me to bring you to her.” He looked at Cameron. “And your mom wanted that, too. We just—we needed to bring Jake home. And Spencer needs to know—“

“His dad isn’t here,” Cameron said quietly as Emma swiped at her eyes. “He didn’t come home.”

“We don’t know where he is,” Jason said carefully. “When we got to Greece, everything happened very fast, and Nikolas got Jake to us, but he couldn’t leave with us. He wanted to make sure we got off the island safely. And we did. Except your mom was hurt, and we got slowed down. So he stayed behind. And there was an explosion.”

“Why is it always an explosion?” Emma wanted to know. “That’s how they said my mom died.” She turned to Cameron. “So maybe he’s okay, then. No one ever dies in those, do they?”

“Sometimes,” Cameron said tightly, his eyes on Jason. “Sometimes, they do.”

“Yeah, sometimes they do.” Jason paused. “Whatever happens, Nikolas helped us save Jake’s life. And your mother’s. If he doesn’t come back, Spencer is going to need his family. Even if sometimes he’s a pain.”

“His dad helped save my mom, too. We’ll take care of Spencer,” Emma promised. She looked towards the stairs, bit her lip. “I want to see my mom,” she admitted in a small voice. “Do we have to wait? We should, but—“

“No,” Jason said, with a shake of his head. “You don’t have to wait. No one blames you—“

“I want to,” Cameron said. He straightened his shoulders. “You can take Emma to the hospital. You should see your mom,” he told her. “But Spencer is my cousin whether he likes it or not.”

“We can…” Emma nodded. “We can wait a bit. Mom and Dad are probably busy yelling at people and taking care of Aunt Elizabeth.”

—

Dante went back downstairs, leaving Laura alone with her grandson in Cameron’s room. Spencer sat on the edge of the bed, digging his toe into the carpet. “You don’t have to say anything,” he muttered. “Dad’s not here. He’s dead.”

“We don’t know,” Laura said, sitting next to him. “There was an explosion, and we could—we couldn’t wait to to find out. Everything happened so fast—we were already at the airport—“

Spencer looked at her, his dark eyes so quiet and solemn. “So he might still be back there. He might be okay?”

“He might be. Cassadines don’t go down easy,” Laura told him. “But I also—“ she hesitated. “If he could have contacted us, I think he might have. I don’t know if he’s coming home, Spencer.”

Spencer pressed his lips together and was quiet for a long moment. “Was Aunt Elizabeth right?” he asked dully. “Was he a good guy? He was helping?”

“He gave up his chance to get off the island with the rest uof us to make sure Elizabeth had time to get back to the boat,” Laura told him. “By the time Jason and Elizabeth and Sonny got to the place where Jake was, she was hurt really bad and moving slow. She almost didn’t get out. But Nikolas distracted everyone else with the explosion, and gave them enough time to get away.” Better to think it was Nikolas who had set the explosion than the alternative—that Stavros had caught up with Jason and Elizabeth in the woods because Nikolas was already dead.

“So he’s a hero.”

“Yes. I will miss him if he’s gone. He’s my son, and I love him. But I love Jake and Elizabeth. They’re my family, too,” Laura told him. “And he would have wanted them to be okay.”

“He did a good thing,” Spencer said. His lower lip quivered but he firmed it quickly. “He did the honorable thing. That’s good. That’s important. I just—“ His voice faltered. “I wanted him to be here.”

“Me, too.” Laura drew him in for a tight hug, pressing her lips to the top of his dark head. “I wanted that, too, baby. This wasn’t the ending I wanted, either.”

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, clinging to her, and Laura sighed in relief as she finally felt him break and the tears start.

—

“I just want to go over this one more time,” Steven said at the nurse’s station as as Epiphany rolled her eyes and Patrick shoved a chart at the nurse behind the desk. “Elizabeth and Jason get news that maybe Jake is alive, and they take off to Greece. They don’t tell me—“

“Well, what are you gonna offer the situation?” Patrick wanted to know. “You don’t have any skills that are remotely useful in this situation—“

“And you do?” Steven demanded hotly. “You’re more useless than I am—“

“I’ve clocked more time in the field than you have. Robert,” Patrick said, nodding to his father-in-law on the other side of the counting, glaring at that phone in his hand. “Tell this dinkus about the Markaam Islands. I did good work there.”

“You did zero work,” Robin reported. “You ended up being helicoptered out of there after we nearly got shot by mercenaries holding my dad and Luke—“

“I did great undercover work,” Patrick retorted.

“Kissing me isn’t really undercover work—“

“Can we go back to the part where my nephew is alive?” Steven demanded. He glared at Epiphany. “Why are you smirking like that? Robin is alive. Jake is alive. Who the hell else is alive that I don’t know about?”

“Well, it is Port Charles. You learn to just go with it,” Epiphany suggested. Behind them, the elevator doors opened and Jason stepped out, followed by Cameron, then Emma.

Emma stopped in the middle of the hallway, her eyes wide as she took in her mother standing next to her father. “Mommy.”

“Emma.”

“Mommy!”

Emma took off like a lighting bolt, and Robin bent down to sweep her daughter in her arms, swinging her around in a circle, the two of them laughing and crying as the world around them came to a stop.

Jason took a deep breath as he stepped up to Epiphany. “Hey.”

“Hey, you.” Epiphany grinned, then peered down at Cameron. “Looks like we got ourself a whole lot of a good news today, huh? Emma’s got her mama back and Jake is home.”

“Yeah. I didn’t get to talk to him yet,” Cameron reported. “He was tired, and Grandma Laura is staying with him to make sure he’s not scared when he wakes up. But he’s home. We’re here to see Mommy.”

“I figured.” Epiphany looked over at Emma and her parents who were clustered around each other—then joined by Robert and Anna.

“Bits is down the hall,” Steven said, still trying to adjust to the entire situation. “At some point, do I get to know who exactly stabbed my sister?”

“Later,” Jason said, nodding to Cameron. “He wants to see his mother, and I—I haven’t seen her since we separated at the airport.”

“I’ll walk you down.”

Elizabeth was pale but awake when Cameron and Jason came in—Steven was a little irritated when Jason closed the door in his face, but Jason didn’t much care about that. Steven had always been one of the ones encouraging Elizabeth to go back to Lucky Spencer two years ago, so he didn’t have the time or patience for his questions right now.

“Mommy!” Cameron rushed over to her side, but stopped short of throwing himself at her the way Jake had done on the plane. “You’re okay? Jason said you were hurt.”

“I was, and it was scary,” Elizabeth admitted. She squeezed his hand. “But Uncle Patrick does pretty good work.” She looked at Jason. “They want to keep me a few days, but I’m going home tomorrow. I don’t want to be away from Jake—“

“You can stay here,” Cameron told her. “We’ll take care of Jake, and we’ll bring him to see you. You need to be okay, Mom.”

Elizabeth pursed her lips. “We’ll see. Did Emma come with you? Did she see Robin?”

“She did. It was really nice, Mom. I’m so glad Aunt Robin is home. I’m sorry Uncle Nikolas might not be, but I’m glad he took care of you and Jake,” Cameron told her.

“Me, too. How did Spencer take it?” she asked Jason.

“Okay, I think,” Jason said. “Emma and Cam wanted to make sure he was okay before we came to the hospital.” He put a hand on Cam’s shoulder. “Hey, why don’t I walk you down to the nurse’s station to hang out with Uncle Steven for a while? Your mom and I need to talk for a minute.”

“Okay.”

When they were out in the hallway, Cameron turned to him, squared his shoulders. “Before we go, though, I wanted you to know it’s okay if you changed your mind.”

Jason frowned. “About what?” He led Cameron over to a bench and they sat down.

“About me,” Cameron said. He swallowed hard. “You got Jake back now. And it’s okay. We’ll be a family anyway,” he added. “But it’s okay if you don’t need me anymore—“

“Need you?” Jason shook his head. “That’s not how this works, Cam. Not for me. Not now. In Greece, I came close to closing everything. It got—it was bad for a minute,” he admitted. “I didn’t know if me or your mom was coming home. And the last thing running through my head was not telling you myself how much I love you. It’s okay if you don’t want to make it legal, and I don’t expect you take to take my name. But you’re already mine, Cam. I love you. You, Jake, and Aiden. We’re a family.”

“You still—“ Cameron blinked at him. “You still want to be my dad? But I thought—“ He cleared his throat. “I thought maybe Jake was back. You had your real son—“

“There’s no such thing as real,” Jason insisted. “There’s blood connections, and that matters, yeah. But so does choice. My mother chose me, and my sister a long time ago. And she helped make us a family. She and my father. Just like your mom made us a family. I want to choose you, Cameron. I’d choose Aiden, too, if I could. But that’s different.”

“Because Lucky’s alive,” Cameron said soberly. He nodded. “Okay.” He nodded again. “Okay. Then I want to choose you, too. You came back. And you made sure Mom came back. That’s most important.” He leaned and hugged Jason. “But I’m gonna stay a Webber, because that’s what Mom is.”

“Then Webber it is,” Jason promised.

Halfway across the world, a man stood on the pier in Mykonos, staring out at the smoldering ruins of the great estate. He pursed his lips, and turned to the harbor master. “What happened out there?”

The man spoke in a rushed Grecian dialect, but the words were mostly clear — great explosion—but no casualties.

“No bodies? Really?” Surprised the man turned back to the island, considering it carefully. “They’re still looking?”

“Yes, yes, but no bodies. Island empty.” The harbormaster shrugged and went back to his work as Valentin Cassadine considered exactly what to do next.

January 10, 2021

Your Update Link: A Shot in the Dark, Part 14

I’m so happy at how this weekend went! I really missed writing these stories, and I’m excited you guys are back into it. We’ll be back with the same schedule next week. I might be wrapping up Shot in the Dark next week, I don’t know yet.

In other news, I finished the plan for the beta draft of Fool Me Twice. It’s about 36 chapters, four of which are brand new. I’ll be editing 12 chapters a week over the next three weeks, and then spending three weeks getting it ready for publication on February 23. That’s the plan for now.

I’ll be publishing some vlogs this week — an update on FMT and kicking up my CG retrospective series which me taking the next 18 months building up to CG’s 20th anniversary by talking about my writing, my time in the community, and just my journey. I didn’t want to start it in 2022 — I wanted it be something that was ready when we got there. I’m excited to start this series because I think I tried to talk about my older writing before and I was too critical. The videos weren’t fun. I want to find the good memories and really look at what everything I wrote taught me.