Tilly

I stared at the woman across the desk, the one who just dropped a bombshell that vibrated through my bones. Tilly St’Clair. The woman I’d heard so much about, the one who raised my mother, the very same woman my mom said would be devastated when she disappeared. My mind whirled. How did she find me? How did she even know to look? A complex knot of doubt and fascination twisted in my gut.

Her deep green irises, the exact shade of emeralds, were shining, glistening with unshed tears. Her lips quivered slightly, a subtle tremor as she fought to keep her emotions locked down. I tore my gaze from her, turning back to Headmaster Winthrop, a thousand questions screaming in my head. Questions I doubted he, in his tweed jacket and prim demeanor, had the answers to.

“How—,” I started, my voice cracking, a dry rasp in my throat. I cleared it, forcing the words out again, clearer this time. “How did you find me?” It was the easiest question, the most immediate, the one that felt safest to ask right now. Even though the words were directed at Tilly, it was the Headmaster who responded, his voice carefully neutral.

“Ms. St’Clair has been looking for you for the past six years. It started off as looking for your mother after the Patefaction, but she found your mother listed as missing and you shipped to an institution. It took some time to nail down which institute, since a lot of information was lost with the influx of children.”

I turned back to face her, not wanting the information filtered through him, but from her own lips. Her eyes darted instinctively to the Headmaster, a silent appeal for him to interject. But before he could even draw a breath, I raised a hand, a sharp, decisive gesture that startled both of them. It was a clear signal for him to be quiet, my eyes still laser-focused on Tilly. I knew I was being incredibly rude, bordering on insubordinate, and it might very well cost me a dreaded trip to the White Room. But I didn’t care. Not right now.

“No,” I insisted, my voice low but firm, a tremor of frustration underlining it. “I need to hear this from her. Why were you looking for Mom? After twelve years, you only just decided to look for her?” The accusation hung in the air, thick and heavy, a challenge.

Leaning forward in her chair, Tilly took a deep, shuddering breath, as if bracing herself. The slight quivering in her lips was more pronounced now. “Well, to answer your first question, I came looking for her because of the Patefaction. I had to make sure she was safe. With so many supernaturals suddenly revealed, I feared for her. To answer your second question, no, it didn’t take me an entire twelve years.” Her voice, though strained, held a ring of quiet conviction. “Over the years, I’ve sent what I thought to be the best hunters, the most skilled trackers, to find her. But I underestimated her abilities. Somehow, she always sensed when they were close and moved to a different location before they could even make it to the front door.” A faint, almost imperceptible ghost of a smile touched her lips, a flicker of pride. “Let’s not mention how well she hid you.”

My mother never kept the full truth from me. She always explained why we were moving, always saying "they" were getting close to finding her, closer to figuring me out. She just never, ever mentioned the person looking was Tilly. The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place, slotting together with a surprising clarity. "Okay, makes sense," I conceded, the words feeling a bit hollow. "What I don’t get is why you’re here now."

At this point, my rude-o-meter was probably way off the charts, but I tried not to think about it too hard. I knew she was my grandmother, my mother's mother, all that family stuff. But it was just so hard to wrap my head around. Six years ago, I could have given them her name, could have told the officials I had family. It would have saved me from the Institute, from the endless routine and the constant low hum of fear. But something had held me back, a strange intuition, a stubborn refusal to involve anyone else. It’s not something I could change now, nor did I want to. I wouldn’t have met Farrah if I did. And the thought of a life without Farrah… that was a far more terrifying prospect than anything Solus could throw at me.

“Well, I came to take you home, of course.”

I almost got whiplash with how quickly my head jerked in her direction. I must have heard wrong. My ears must be malfunctioning after years of monotonous Solus announcements. There’s no way she expects me to just up and leave. I mean, I could. The Institute had strict rules, but technically, if a family member with proven ties showed up and was deemed suitable, they could take a child. But did I want to? My mind spun, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

“Genesis dear,” Tilly pressed on, her voice softer now, almost coaxing, “did you hear what I said? I’m going to take you to come live with your grandfather and myself. He doesn’t know I’ve found you yet. Wanted to keep it as a surprise since he thought I wouldn’t be able to do it.” She turned her body completely in the plush armchair, her hand outstretched, open and inviting, waiting for my own.

I looked at her hand, then flicked my gaze to Headmaster Winthrop. Surely there was some rule, some bureaucratic hurdle, somewhere that would stop her from taking me. Something that would bring this small, fragile bubble of hope crashing down before I got my hopes up. I knew what I wanted to say, what I should say, what the ten-year-old me, lost and alone, would have screamed: Yes. That easy. Three letters. One word.

But when I opened my mouth, that isn’t what came out. Instead, I found myself saying, “Can I think about it?”

Both adults in the room openly gaped at me. Headmaster Winthrop’s mouth hung slightly ajar, a picture of utter disbelief. Tilly’s radiant smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of hurt, a shadow in her bright eyes. I’m sure she thought my mom had bad-mouthed her in some way, poisoning my mind and causing my hesitation. And the Headmaster? He knew just how not-great the Institute was, knew how desperately most kids wanted out.

Tilly composed herself, though the hurt still lingered in her gaze. "May I ask why?"

The genuine pain in her voice, so unexpected, had me quickly explaining myself, words tumbling out in a rush. “It’s Farrah. I can’t leave her. She’s my best friend, my sister, the closest thing I’ve had to family in a long time. She has no one here but me. I’m afraid of what she’ll go through without me here.” The thought of her navigating Solus alone, her bright, unquenchable spirit slowly dimming in these sterile halls, was a crushing weight in my chest.

Tilly released an audible breath, a soft whoosh of air, and looked to the Headmaster, her expression shifting from hurt to a quiet determination. “I’ll be taking this Farrah with me as well.”

“What?!” The word burst from me, escaping before I could even register it. At the exact same time, Headmaster Winthrop, who had seemed utterly speechless until now, spluttered, “Mrs. St’Clair, I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

Tilly just looked him directly in the eye, her posture straightening, an almost regal bearing settling over her. Her voice, usually so gentle, was now laced with an undeniable authority. “And why is that?”

The Headmaster visibly stiffened. “There’s protocol to follow, Mrs. St’Clair. Unfortunately, it’ll take weeks before the Councillium will even get back to me. Another week before a meeting is set, and then everything has to be reviewed. Of course, this being your granddaughter, you are free to take her into your care without all of that red tape, but Ms. Carter is a different story altogether.” Just like that, all hope, which had briefly flared, got deflated like a punctured balloon. The weight of bureaucracy, the endless forms and committees, settled heavily on my shoulders.

Tilly’s eyes, however, held a dangerous spark. Her smile, which had been so warm moments ago, thinned into a razor-sharp line. “Are you done?” she asked, her voice dangerously quiet. “Because I can have the three remaining members of the Councillium on the phone in less than a minute to authorize this.”

Headmaster Winthrop’s eyes bulged out of their sockets, literally. His face went pale, a sickly white. “Three re–” he stammered, his composure completely shattered.

“Yes, three, as I’m the fourth.” As she spoke, she reached into the lapel of her elegant blazer and produced a small, elaborately carved silver pin. It had the Councillium’s emblem clearly visible on it – a intricate design depicting a stylized sun, moon, and a thorny rose intertwined. The symbol of ultimate authority in the supernatural world.

“I take it I don’t need to tell you to keep your mouth shut about it?” she said, her voice now a silken threat. He shook his head frantically, a rapid, almost comical movement, before giving a slight, instinctive bow, a gesture of absolute deference.

No one knows who the members of the Councillium are. Only the Councillium members themselves, and their spouses, are privy to that secret. If one member has to step down or passes away, the remaining members gather and select the person who will replace the lost member. They won’t even have a say in who replaces them. It’s a closed, ancient circle of power. And my grandmother was one of them.

“Now that that’s settled,” Tilly said, her voice regaining its composure, though a hint of steel still remained, “go, get your friend and gather your things. Be ready within the hour. I should be done wrapping up the paperwork for the both of you and getting authorization for Farrah.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I darted out of my seat, knocking it to the floor in the process with a loud clatter, but I didn’t bother to right it. This place could suck it, for all I cared. Now, I just needed to find Farrah and tell her the good news. The best news.