It's taken many months to get situated after the whole drupal fiasco, but chapter content has finally been uploaded.  And since I was going through each chapter anyway, I ran them all through an editor and re-wrote a few details. I've still got to get part one of the band's side story added, Caslon's art, and a few other things, but I am motivated!

“I guess this is it?” Madeline deduced, looking up at the barely-there Neverland marquis. The vertical-hanging, garden-themed sign was faded by sunlight, the lettering precariously curling at the edges like dried flower petals. Unexpectedly more nervous than she imagined she’d be, Madeline gripped the address card in her trembling hand. 

Pressing the Club Level button, which would bring her into the bowels of Taro’s building, Madeline felt its cool surface sink beneath the weight of her index finger. It wasn’t the floor she wanted, she wanted the Lobby, but every time she reached for it, a sense of doom rained down upon her so heavily that it nearly buckled her knees. And the more she struggled to gain control of her motor skills, the more dreadful the feeling became.

It wasn’t until she stepped out of the shower and went to wipe the foggy mirror that she became aware it wasn’t the water pressure, it was something wrong with her. 

After taking another sip of tea, her ears picked up on the subtle hiss-click of an electronic lock coming from the entry door.

Stepping into the library was none other than Mr. Taro Tetsugawa himself, only he wasn’t alone.

At his side was an elegant man, with chiseled Nordic facial features, golden-blond hair gathered at the nape of his neck, and the clearest blue eyes she’d ever seen. He smiled cheerfully as he spoke with Taro, radiating with genuine warmth. He had all the characteristics of a classic blue-eyed, blond-haired angel, and Madeline found it difficult to take her eyes off this ray of sunshine as the two men strolled in her direction. She also missed the chance to pick up on the tail-end of their previous conversation before it was pointed in her direction.

Taking her eyes off the text, Madeline reflected on the words but couldn’t imagine him so bloodthirsty. How could the same soft hands that bandaged her be responsible for slicing the throats of children? How could the person that freed her, not once but twice, needlessly murder innocent women for money? And his inspirational talk to her about returning things to needy people, was that all bullshit? Was she nothing but a toy to practice his convincing lies on? 

The lobby was spacious and busy, making it all the more easy for her to blend in. After she unbuttoned her coat and confidently settled into a plush, leather chair within close proximity to the back service entrance, Madeline removed her cell phone from her handbag, giving the impression she was engrossed in texting. Judging by the time, the truck could arrive anytime within the next hour, so Madeline began a casual routine of looking preoccupied with her phone alternating with taking out her compact to check her makeup and touch up her lipstick. 

Her phone rang. It was Cameron.

“Truck is pulling into your entrance,” he said, keeping the call short and sweet. 

“Thank you, I’ll call you when I’m done,” Madeline replied pleasantly, keeping in her role.

“Don't make me regret this.”

But as soon as she entered the arrival lobby, she could feel a set of eyes on her.

Casually holding a dry erase board with the words M. McCaffrey written on it, was a familiar, yet nameless, man. She remembered his spiky, amber-colored hair, and in the bright light of the airport, it was now clear that his dark roots matched her own. His features were much more angelic than she would have guessed, making him out to be more innocent than she knew him to be. Wearing the same leather jacket he had on outside the Orimura house the night of the katana job, there was no doubt in Madeline’s mind that this was that gunman.

Her apartment was dim, lit only by the multi-colored lights decorating the tree and her cell phone screen. In one hand she held a glass of umeshu, the ice cubes clinking gently together over the sound of Christmas music playing faintly in the background. She glanced at her phone for the thousandth time. She had texted “Merry Christmas” to Levi hours ago, receiving nothing in reply. Staring at the tree, the alcohol had weakened her spirit instead of lifting it. Perhaps the umeshu wasn’t the best choice, but it reminded her of him. And if he couldn’t, wouldn’t, be here, this was the next closest thing. Staring at the lights on the tree, they began to twinkle more than usual as tears started to blur her vision.

Suddenly there was a heavy knocking at her front door.

As still as the crescent moon that hung in the night sky, Madeline paused to wait out the unplanned audio interruption. Ever cautious, she replayed the past ten minutes in her mind as if she was rewinding an old movie. She'd stuck to the shadows and hadn't been seen. She'd watched her footing around the poorly laid tripwire. The nearby cicadas hadn't ceased their chirping until now, which meant she hadn't been heard either, and she had studied the compound for months before taking on this mission. In fact, she had been so careful that she was expecting to catch a flight out of Guadalajara before the sun began saturating the horizon with its life-giving color and warmth.