Chapter 79

  The Move

  (Darcy Renolds)

  It was happening.

  The world was changing, and yet it was all still staying the same. Darcy was so excited at playing the field, and actually guessing right, that she was on cloud nine about what she had done.

  There was of course just one speedbump in the way of her going to be with her friends.

  “Are you sure that you want to go to Tennessee?” Darcy’s father, Malcolm Renolds asked. “I could pull a few strings and get you accepted into a prestigious school like Dartmouth, or even into WVU, like your mother.”

  Hearing these statements didn’t even bother Darcy anymore.

  Instead, she was just forced to go through the same Groundhog Day argument over and over again. The only difference being that, in this case the day changed, but the subsequent arguments for why she shouldn’t go didn’t.

  There was first the argument of being a Legacy.

  “You know you could be part of what would be a seven generation Legacy for Dartmouth, your great-great-great-great-grandfather Daniel Maximus Renolds was the first to attend,” her father began.

  “Should have had a son, now even if I do graduate, I won’t be remembered as a Renolds,” Darcy explained, commenting on the way that her last name was bound to change, thanks to the archaic practice of forcing the female to change their last names to match the boys.

  Hearing this, her father’s face slightly changed as a look of almost hope seemed to appear on his face.

  “Wait, does this mean you are back into guys again? Is that Rider kid going to Tennessee? Is that what this is about?” By now her father had completely gone off script.

  “Eww, no. His name is James, and he and I are so over. Not that there was much of us to begin with,” Darcy began, and then answered the last question “though I don’t know where he is going.”

  At that, the father just nodded his head.

  “So it is that basketball girl again?”

  Badump, badump.

  At this, Darcy felt her anxiety rising, though she knew her father always preferred honesty to outright lying.

  “Yes, the basketball girl as you call her is my main reason for going. She’s a friend, and someone who I trust completely.” At that, memories of how crazed monsters chased after them outside of the Hasty concert. How despite everything, she seemed to do things that were otherwise impossible.

  Hearing the honesty of her words, her father could only nod his head in understanding.

  “Okay, and this is the same girl who got you out of Pittsburg?” He asked, referring to the location of the incident and not the exact incident itself.

  At that Darcy could only nod in agreement.

  Despite how long ago it was, and how real it all felt, there were true horrors that still sprung to her mind every time she closed her eyes.

  In fact, her insomnia often got so bad, that the only time she could get sleep was at sleepovers at her house. Not that she could explain it, nothing happened, not that she didn’t want anything to happen, just that it didn’t happen. Instead, they just stayed up, watched shows, played basketball, despite how bad she was, and generally just hung out.

  Oddly enough, despite how technically proficient Misha was at seemingly everything, it was odd to see her grab a book and sit and read for hours on end. Not on an e-reader either, but on solid books that had physical pages that needed to be flipped, and required lighting sources to be fully enjoyed. Even better was the fact that dead air was accepted. That is, they didn’t need to constantly talk to feel comfortable together. Silence was just as important as the times that they spoke.

  This was great, for when she fell asleep there, knowing she was nearby, she felt safe. Her mind could relax and she didn’t feel flustering anxiety when she awoke to think she was vulnerable.

  Only after many, many meetings with her psychiatrist did her father finally accept the platonic relationship between the two.

  At first, he thought Misha was only after her inheritance. But after meeting her and having his own investigators look into her and the family, it was clear that his concerns were unfounded. Or at the very least lessened with this honor student that seemed to come out of nowhere.

  “All right, since you are so insistent, there are a few things that I need to warn you about,” The father began.

  “While it might have been better for you if you went to Dartmouth, where you could join my alma mater, where I could introduce you to a number of fraternities that would help you out in the future.”

  “I already told you, that I don’t need your help dad, at least not with getting accepted by others.” Darcy was no stranger to this process, she knew that she would still need her father’s assistance financially. She wasn’t completely na?ve enough to start declaring her independence now.

  “I understand that, but know that what I am telling you needs to remain a family secret,” Malcolm began, and as he spoke, he held out his right hand.

  The hand itself was completely uninteresting, it showed the well-worn calluses of age, and of a person who used their hands for precision procedures. Her father was a surgeon, not the best, but by far the best in the region. In fact, at his prime, before he semi-retired and moved out here to the sticks, he was a major surgeon for one of the largest hospitals out east, though he never would say which one.

  There was apparently an infight, and a potential disbarment. While he had ultimately been allowed to keep his license, the stigma of the event caused the entire family to move out here and start over again.

  Later the family won a defamation lawsuit against his former employer, but the damage had been done to his reputation. This was why, despite his apparent skills, he had chosen to live a life of relative seclusion.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Now it seemed that her father would finally shed some light on that situation.

  Darcy again nodded, feeling tension rise up in her, as she could almost feel an intangible surge of energy around her.

  “As you know, I am a Legacy doctor, for seven generations the blood of surgeons has run through our family. What you may not know, or be aware of, is why we have all felt the calling to become doctors,” Malcolm began. As he spoke, the tension in the air continued to rise. Then a faint green light began to glow from the palm of his outstretched right hand.

  “You are a legacy, someone who is likely going to awaken soon, which is why I wanted you here, or at least near people that could help. That said, you will soon come into your own. Like clockwork, everyone from the great Daniel Maximus Renolds, to your grandfather, and even me awakened on our eighteenth birthday. When we did, we all found ourselves attuned to life energy. Only while at Dartmouth, in the secret fraternities there did we find that we were not alone. That we were not truly unique.” The father began and paused at that, letting that revelation sink in.

  As he spoke, Darcy recalled images of the crowd going crazy, of seeing them do things that should not have been possible. Flames erupting, storm clouds raging, even snow falling in sharp piercing shards. Everything that could happen did.

  Recalling those images, remembering how helpless she was, how it was only thanks to the help of Misha and Jasmine that they all managed to get out of there alive. Worse, Darcy had been knocked out for most of it, so only faint fuzzy memories of horrors existed in her mind, but what she did see and recall, were truly the notes of nightmares.

  The events were so prolific that even Jasmine chose not to go by her nickname anymore, preferring to go by just Jasmine.

  Everyone changed after that trip. Well, everyone but Misha, she looked as calm and stoic as ever.

  This was why, if there was to be a change, she wanted to spend it with Misha.

  She alone seemed to be able to stand up against the horrors of the night. Even Jasmine had a newfound respect for her.

  “The way you are reacting even now to the increased pressure of energy, it shows that you are at the very least sensitive to this energy. Energy that you will be able to wield once you awaken. This is why, I implore you to go to Dartmouth, or even WVU, where your mother went.”

  “Mother is awakened?” Darcy found herself asking.

  At that her father just nodded, “yes, though she is part of a different faction. Meaning you could either awaken as a healer, or with the ability to wield the elements like she can.”

  There was an awkward silence as that comment went through.

  “You will find that, often times prodigal bloodlines are encouraged to blend together. I was supposed to be betrothed to a separate, more influential bloodline than your mother’s who is by all accounts part of a relatively unknown bloodline, consisting of just her, her mother, and her grandmother.”

  “Memaw?” Darcy found herself asking.

  At that, Malcolm just nodded.

  Once again silence ensued, as she was given time to process this new information.

  “Is that why you were forced out of your practice? The fact that you chose mom, over some other legacy?” Darcy asked.

  Hearing the question, Malcom just clenched his jaw for a moment, before managing to relax.

  “Yes, and perhaps you are correct about breaking the legacy tradition,” Malcom began, as he looked away and seemed to recall his own past mistakes. “Also, I would be hypocritical if I told you to avoid your infatuation, and walk the path already laid out before you.”

  Hearing that, Darcy’s ears perked up.

  “Does that mean?” Darcy began, but held her question short, letting her father fill in the rest. Let him fill in the words that are left to be said.

  At that, her father just nodded.

  “Yes, you have my blessing to walk your life how you want to. But know, that should it get out about your power and position, you will likely be pushed into situations that will push you to choose between the easy life, or the life you choose to live for yourself.”

  There as a slight pause, before he added in contrition.

  “That said, once you make your choice, stick with it, put your blood, sweat, and tears into it, and you too can find true happiness.” He said, while holding up his hands and gesturing to the lavish house around them. It wasn’t the best house ever, and would be considered a modest vacation house by the rest of her family, but it was clearly a home. A home that was built on complete faith that the person and life he wanted to live lay elsewhere than the beaten path.

  “Oh, thank you daddy,” Darcy exclaimed as she lunged forward and hugged her father.

  The two held the embrace for a moment, then finally he leaned back.

  “I just hope she is worth it,” her father responded.

  “Oh, she is, and more,” Darcy replied, hugging him tighter.

  Finally, the moment ended, and both looked at each other expectantly.

  Malcom was the first to break, “do you need help packing?”

  At that Darcy just looked slightly sheepish at the comment, “I kind of already packed.”

  Hearing that, Malcom found himself expecting no less from her, as she had all but been in a complete chaos of nervous energy and frantic delights over the past few days.

  Ding.

  “Oh, that’s her,” Darcy began.

  “That’s who?” Malcom found himself asking, as he got up.

  “My ride to school,” Darcy explained.

  At that Malcom wanted to ask more, but in his heart, he already knew.

  “Go get the door, I’ll get my stuff, and thank you,” Darcy explained, while giving her father one last hug.

  At that moment, Malcom knew he was being manipulated. That if he tried to resist or cut back on her plans at this moment, all the goodwill he had just built up would be ended.

  Instead, he found himself moving forward mechanically to the doorway, to see her.

  Even from the slightly raised stoop of his front door to the front porch, she was one of Darcy’s few friends that he still had to look up at to lock gazes with.

  “Hello, Dr. Renolds, it is a pleasure as always,” she responded instantly, even giving a bow of her head. Worse, he could not feel any contempt or mocking tones within her speech or mannerisms, nothing but respect and well-practiced manners.

  Even when he wanted to hate her, he couldn’t.

  “Hello, Ms. Tulley,” he replied, this was as close to sarcasm as he would allow himself with the otherwise completely cordial friend of his daughter’s.

  There was a momentary silence that filled the room, as he gestured for Misha to come in.

  As requested, she came in the few feet, into the foyer and allowed Malcom to close the door while the two waited.

  Once they stopped, she seemed to nervously move her hands and then looked up to gain eye contact with Malcom.

  “You know, researchers are saying that a lot of financial thefts are happening to the medical industry,” the girl began, speaking about technology, something that was clearly her preferred field of study.

  “Oh?” Malcom asked, not really interested but trying to play along for the sake of this encounter.

  “Yes, in fact they say that people might not even realize it, but when they used shared accounts with their co-workers, those passwords can be tested for similarities with other accounts owned by the original account holder. If one has an account for a financial institution that requires a similar password, they might find unexpected monthly payments going out for services they are not aware of.”

  At this, Malcom couldn’t help but feel that there was something she wanted to tell, but couldn’t quite tell him, which was why he asked.

  “Any particular institutions I should be aware of?”

  “Yes, Wells Truist accounts, the automatic payments that were set up were for odd numbers as well. For the price of $1,452.32, and $587.77,” the girl responded.

  Hearing those numbers, Malcom’s eyes grew wide, as he remembered seeing those same payments set up, but then saw that they were listed as being for home loans and assumed that they were set up by his wife. He had meant to ask, but never got a chance to do so.

  As these thoughts were going to his mind, she continued.

  “Kind of sloppy if you ask me, as the money just goes to a separate account with a different bank, that then pays the actual mortgage, a mortgage with a clear name of the person who set up the initial transaction.”

  Hearing that, Malcom who had looked away, suddenly looked back and locked gazes with Misha.

  “I take it, this isn’t a singular event?” He pressed.

  “No, it could happen to anyone you know,” Misha continued, her voice calm but there was a note of resonance that seemed to stick.

  Hearing her speak, not for the first time he wondered if she was a new breed of cyber witch, for her insights into computers and the like were uncanny.

  At first, he thought most of these comments were strictly her telling of her hobbies and interests. But he had quickly learned to heed such advice.

  “Um, would you mind waiting here, while I check on a few things?” Malcom asked.

  “No,” Misha answered, while casually shaking her head.

  “Thank you,” Malcom replied as he nodded his head and quickly headed to his computer room. From there it was a few clicks, before he could see the two exact payments from his account made monthly to a separate account.

  Badump, badump, badump.

  Seeing the information right there, in the exact amounts meant. Well, it meant quite a bit. First, she was right in that his account was likely hacked, and apparently had been so, for at least the past three months. At least that was as far back as his currently listed records would go.

  Then there were other ramifications as well, namely how did she know?

  But that was besides the point, he needed to correct this, immediately.

  “Bye dad, I’ll call you when we check in,” Darcy called out from the foyer.

  “One second!” Malcom exclaimed, and then got up and went to see the pile of packed and wheeled suitcases that Darcy had chosen. Once again, Misha never ceased to impress, as she was clearly prepared to carry out five, while Darcy carried two and a backpack.

  “Thank you,” Malcom replied.

  At that Misha just nodded, “figured it was an interesting article to talk about.”

  Then pausing for a moment, he asked.

  “Any recommendations?”

  “I’d first change your passwords, everywhere, then contact the bank’s fraud department, along with the local branch of the FBI. As there might be more to this than they are aware of.” Misha noted.

  Hearing that, Malcom could only nod his head in agreement, though the tasks seemed to be harder.

  “Should I change my password first?”

  “Yes, do them in that order, otherwise the person who set up the payments might have a chance to change some of their information.” Misha replied.

  And like that, Malcom realized that Darcy had chosen a great friend to trust.

  “Darcy, I take it all back,” he exclaimed as he ran forward to give one final farewell hug to his daughter. Then leaning in closely he spoke, “you can stay with her as long as you want. I will support you now and always.”

  Hearing that, Darcy looked momentarily confused, but then just shrugged and decided to leave before he once again changed his mind.

  Only once they were fully packed and on the road did Darcy dare to ask, “what was that about?”

  Misha for her part just shrugged, “who knows. Old people and technology don’t always get along.”

  At first, Darcy wanted to accept that, but then found herself asking, “so what was that part about the FBI?”