Daughter of Zeus ✔

12.2

Mother and father had been arguing for hours. They didn't fight often, but when they did, the whole house shook. Darcy was not over-dramatizing the anger, as objects in the house actually shook or even broke during their arguments. Sometimes their anger was like a living thing. Her interface was apt to flicker if her parents exchanged heated words. She did her best to ignore their voices: her father's a deep boom, and her mother's a shrill harp.

Instead, Darcy focused on the image the mirror reflected back to her. "Let me see the purple skirt."

The machine reacted. Over her underwear-clad body, an image of a purple mini skirt filtered to fit her form. She turned to the side and back again. She looked fat.

"Eww, no. How about the purple slacks?"

The skirt disappeared, replaced by the slacks she ordered. The quality of the projection was high. She appeared to be wearing actual pants.

"Much better." She nodded to her reflection. "I would like the slacks now please."

A steel clothing rack extended outward from a wall panel. On the farthest end hung a pair of purple slacks. She grabbed for them.

"Thanks."

While she slid her legs into the pants, she heard bits of her parents' latest argument, even though their room was two doors down from hers.

"My daughter...!"

At that, Darcy came to attention. She grabbed a random shirt from her bed and pulled it on. She hurried to the hallway, tip-toeing to the door of her parents' bedroom. Their voices could be heard clearly through the particle barrier.

Her mother was talking: "Think of what people will say. You're supposed to have one, not two!"

"My scandal began a lifetime ago. There is no denying her. I won't do it. I'm sorry, but that's over."

They can't be talking about me. A mistress then? Illegitimate baby?

"I can't do this," Chancelin said.

"You're going to have to."

"I can't."

"Too fucking bad!"

The light bulb in the ceiling of the hallway gleamed to an extraordinary glow before going dark and exploding. Darcy covered her scream with her hand.

"God damnit, Brontes. You broke another one. Control yourself!" Her mother's voice hovered closer to the door.

Darcy bolted. Halfway down the stairs, she heard footsteps crunching on the broken glass by her parents' bedroom. Either Mother or Father picked up the mess. She picked up her pace, fairly flying to the first floor.

In the sitting room, she found Phennell. He spoke in a hushed voice to a woman with dark hair and thin lips.

"Weren't you here for dinner a couple nights ago?" asked Darcy.

Phennell twisted his head in her direction. "Darcy, this is—"

"What are you doing here?" Ignoring her brother, she fired another question.

Things were starting to come together. The woman was familiar, but not because she had been in the house before. Her eyes.

"Her name is Ada. And she's your sister," said a voice from behind Darcy.

She had missed the British accent over the years. "Grandpa?"

Kressick hugged her tightly. They were both tall, and Darcy's mouth was close to her grandfather's ear.

She whispered, "How can she be my sister? She's shorter than me!"

He chuckled. "She didn't get  all my genes, it would seem."

"Hi." Ada extended her hand to Darcy. "I know we've already met, and I'm sorry it had to be under false pretenses."

Darcy narrowed her eyes without taking Ada's hand. "Yes. Why did you do that?"

Ada put her hand away. "I wanted to meet all of you. I wasn't sure a meeting would happen if I openly claimed Moretz as my father."

She ran out of time to analyze Ada's words. The Congressman came down the stairs right after she spoke. He was running.

"Ada?"

Darcy's eyes widened. He knew she was Ada, the daughter, and not Mali the lobbyist.

"Yes, it's me." Ada sounded indifferent.

When he reached the sitting room, Moretz looked every part the concerned parent. His eyes were wide, his hair out of place, and his tie was crooked. There was little of the composed congressman before them. Darcy thought he made for an excellent actor. The performance was complete when he enfolded Ada in a hug.

She did not put her arms up to reciprocate. She looked very Prominent all of the sudden.

Darcy's arm hairs stiffened, and she could sense the same weird charge in the air that had emanated from her parents' bedroom. The energy subsided when Moretz let go of his firstborn.

Phennell cleared his throat. "Dad, do you two want some privacy?"

Moretz put a hand on his stepson's shoulder. "I think it would be best, son."

"Yes," Ada said slowly, "I think it would be best, too."