Savannah, Georgia was the last place I expected to find myself. Still, in my insatiable quest to find out the truth behind my own murder, the trail I was following had now led me here.

This place, in a way was very similar  to New Orleans. It evoked images of beautiful Victorian homes, against the backdrop of the sprawling Savannah river. Of warm nights sitting outside, the breeze carrying the sweet smell of honeysuckle. A wonderful energy was present in the eighteenth century garden squares and gourmet restaurants, blessing Savannah with a vibrant Southern culture that one couldn’t find anywhere else.

It had not been easy to convince Death to stay behind. “Vanessa, cherie, you are hiding far too many things from moi,” he had said in his half-feigned despondent tone.

“Me? Keep secrets from you? Never, Richard,” I had responded.

In the end, Death sighed and I had my way.

I had taken the opportunity to avail myself of a few amenities this time. I now had a smartphone, which was a godsend. I still could not believe how many days I had lasted without it. 4G was a modern marvel that no person should have to live without.

One of the very first things I did was call Daniel. I explained why I had to disappear suddenly and sincerely apologized for my behavior. I was also smart enough to dangle the carrot in front of him first - I had wanted to make amends. Would he be willing to come to my place for dinner, if I cooked, I had wondered aloud. He took the bait of course, with very little prodding on my part. A home-cooked Italian dinner from yours truly was just the thing Daniel needed to get over his initial disappointment.

With that episode neatly wrapped up, I decided to focus on this other thing. The address that Helen Rutherford gave me was in Savannah’s historic district. I decided to take a road trip from New Orleans to Savannah. Of course, I decided to drive in style, appropriating an black Mercedes SLS AMG for the occasion, the sleek, black curves of the gullwing drew attention to me like no other, but I felt that I was entitled to this, having gone through the things that I had. It was all on Death’s dime of course, which was yet another thing that I enjoyed. If I was going to be dead, I might was well ‘live’ it up.

The home that greeted me was a huge departure from the Rutherford Estate. It was a rather quaint old townhome that was nondescript. The walls were dilapidated, the tiny lawn had been neglected. Weeds and other embarrassing growths had overrun the place. Still, it had it’s own charms. With it’s old world feel, I might even have gone so far to call it quaint, perhaps, but not something that could have been described as luxurious by any stretch. I stood before the dark-green door that greeted me and used the knocker to announce my presence.

The door opened cautiously and ever so slightly. A woman who looked to be in her seventies answered. “We do not take solicitations,” the old woman said.

“I’m not here for that,” I said, smiling at the old lady. “I received your address from Helen Rutherford.”

The woman’s demeanor changed altogether as she heard that. She pulled me into her home, her right hand reaching out to my arm, pulling me insistently into her home. Her hair was graying and her clothes appeared to be from another day and time. Still, despite her dated appearance, I could tell that she worked hard to maintain that appearance.

“Please, allow me to welcome you into my humble home,” the old woman said. “Ah, but perhaps I am forgetting my manners in my old age. My name is Sylvia,” she said.

I nodded. “Sylvia Van Dyke,” I said as I extended my hand to shake hers. “My name is Haley Wellington.”

“And what can I do for you this morning Miss Wellington?”

I looked around Sylvia Van Dyke’s residence. It was almost a caricature of an elderly person’s home. I saw the Lladró porcelain figures all carefully displayed atop wooden display cases. Lladró has it’s charms, I was sure, but the only thing the innocent little pieces of porcelain ever did for me was make me feel out of place.

“Helen told me to speak to you in regard to Vanessa Hunter’s death,” I said finally

A sigh escaped Sylvia’s lips. There was a forlorn look upon her care-worn face. “It was a terrible shame for that child,” she said finally. “Vanessa had so much to live for. But that demon had to have his way in the end.”

“Demon?”

Sylvia chuckled. “How well did you know Vanessa Hunter, my dear?”

“Well enough,” I said, trying hard to hide my smile.

“This story begins and ends with Astrid Hunter.”

I nodded. “I’m all ears. Please, tell me the story.”

“When Astrid was very young, she looked a lot like Vanessa. She was always the prettiest girl in the room, and rightfully so. She bore such a regal and commanding presence that everyone took notice.” I noticed a distant expression in Sylvia’s eyes as she spoke.

“How did you know Astrid?” I asked.

Sylvia smiled. “Astrid was my younger sister,” she said.

Interesting. I didn’t know my mother had a sister.

“I was told Vanessa’s mother was an only child, just like Vanessa herself.”

“Indeed, that is what they tell people. Well over a decade separates Astrid and I in age, and we’ve been estranged for so long. Such shame, because we were so close when we were younger.”

“What changed?”

“The demon.”

“That’s the second time you’ve referred to a demon. Can you elaborate on that?”

“Of course, dear. That man, the monster who ruined Astrid and Vanessa’s lives. I am referring to none other than Donovan Hunter.”

“Donovan Hunter?” I asked incredulously. I couldn’t believe my ears. “That…that can’t be right. Donovan was a good father to Vanessa.”

Sylvia smiled. “Of course he was. Vanessa was the culmination of all his efforts, his research, everything that Donovan lived for, his hopes and dreams lay with the power that was behind his daughter.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“In due time, my dear,” said Sylvia. “This story is complex, and you must hear it all the way through so that you might understand.”

“Then by all means, please continue,” I said.

“I remember the very first time Astrid introduced me to Donovan. He was very handsome, charming, a man who knew where he was going. He was very driven, even back then. He worked tirelessly toward his goals.”

“Donovan grew up poor didn’t he? In Illinois farmland, back in Champaign.”

“Indeed,” said Sylvia. “But he was a brilliant man. He put himself through school on his own. He was an engineering genius. Even back then, when technology wasn’t so relevant, he was making gadgets that were ahead of their time. His knowledge of the intricate workings of machines was next to no one.

“Donovan was considered by many to be a genius ahead of his time,” I agreed.

Sylvia’s expression turned grave. “Indeed he was,” she said with a faint bit of sadness in her voice. “Are you familiar with the ‘The Singularity’?

I nodded. “A time in the future when machines would become smarter than human beings. It was popularized by Ray Kurzweil and Bill Joy.”

Sylvia nodded and smiled. “Donovan became obsessed with The Singularity. It was harmless in the beginning, but gradually it became unhealthy. It consumed him. Hunter Robotics was started in the beginning to further the cause of mankind. Donovan believed that machines existed to serve mankind.”

“Hunter Robotics. Furthering the future of mankind,” I said with a smile.

Sylvia smiled at that. “Yes, that was the slogan they used during Donnie’s time. I remember it took him over thirteen years to make the company profitable. He came up with device after device and they were all brilliant, but too far ahead of their time. No one wanted them because no one could come up with a practical use for them.”

“But that changed, didn’t it?” I asked.

“Of course it did. If Donnie stuck to his guns, he never would have prospered.”

“What changed?”

“Donnie discovered nanotechnology in the ‘80s. Back then, they were the sole domain of Science-Fiction nuts. No one really believed it was possible to miniaturize robots. But Donnie had a vision. He saw the improvements in microarchitecture being made at the time, read about the advances that were being made in Silicon Valley. If Intel could shrink their chips consistently over time, then Hunter Robotics could do the same with its machines. To continuously be able to decrease their size while increasing the intelligence of his robots became Donovan Hunter’s goal in life.”

“And this all happened before Vanessa’s birth?”

“This was all before Vanessa was born. But Donnie was already dating Astrid.” Sylvia said with a smile. “If I may indulge myself for a moment, sweetie, I would have added that Astrid was absolutely smitten with Donovan Hunter. At this point, however she barely even saw him. He was so busy and all his time was spent running the business. Astrid probably had, at best, only a few minutes a day to spend with Donnie, but she deeply treasured the time they spent together. ‘Donnie has his path’, she would often tell me, and I sat there listening to her sadness. Helpless, in a way, not knowing how I could ease Astrid’s suffering. I knew she suffered of course,” the old woman added, with a hint of indignation in her voice.

“You yourself have never married?” I asked.

Sylvia smiled at the questions. “No darling, I have not really had the chance to,” she said. “The years go by and I swear, it’s like it was still yesterday. But time waits for no one, I’m afraid. I have whiled away the years, and time has been unkind to me,” she said finally.

“When did Astrid marry Donovan?”

“It think it was the summer of ‘91, my memory fails me, I’m afraid dear, but it was a really simple ceremony. Astrid was a vision in her wedding dress. There had to have been thirty, no, twenty people maximum in the group that saw them tie the knot. Close friends and family only. Donnie’s entire fortune was tied up in Hunter Robotics and cash was tight at the time, so they couldn’t afford to be extravagant. Still, Astrid glowed like no other creature on earth. Her beauty was, well, otherworldly could possibly be the only way to describe it.”

“Did the wedding take place in Illinois?” I asked. I hadn’t been entirely sure about this part.

“Why, what an odd question to ask,” Sylvia said. “But interesting nonetheless. Back in the day, Donnie had begun a rather odd association with another prominent person back then. A man by the name of Donald Ashcroft.”

“Daniel Ashcroft’s father?” I asked.

“Indeed,” said Sylvia. “Donald was everything that Donnie was not. He was born into money, and he had significant resources. Donald was the man that Donnie only dreamt he could become. There was such a large gulf between them. Donald was Harvard-educated, the oldest of three siblings and next in line to take over the Ashcroft dynasty. Ashcroft was third-generation wealth at the time; having had interests in several different areas, but most notably in the pharmaceutical industry. The company’s founder, Alexander Ashcroft had immigrated in the 1920’s from England and had wanted to find his fortunes in America. It was the roaring twenties, and America was young at heart. Alexander made his way into New Orleans.”

“I did not know how far back Ashcroft dated.”

“Indeed, it was an interesting time for Alexander. He had just immigrated to the United States, from London, no less, and he had yet to make any connections with the business community. But Alexander had a dream and he made it happen. Against the backdrop of the mob and the massive economic resurgence that occurred during the roaring twenties, Alexander Ashcroft built himself an empire that would span several generations.”

“And Donald, the grandson was the person that served as the focal point for Donovan Hunter’s economic success?” I asked.

“It’s important to note, Haley,” said Sylvia, “that things were uncertain for Donnie Hunter back in the day. He had cash-flow problems; a result of recklessly over-leveraging himself too early. He had built an extraordinarily long timeline for success into his business, but he was a victim of being far too prescient for his own good.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Donovan Hunter needed a visionary who could see as far into the future as he could,” Sylvia continued.

“And Donald was that person?” I asked.

“Donald Spencer Ashcroft was a man who lived in his father’s and grandfather’s shadow. His father, John Edward Ashcroft did not marry until late in life. Donald was often left to his own devices while his father continued the legacy that was built by his grandfather. He was brilliant in his own right, but he could not escape the legacy of his predecessors.”

“Just like Daniel,” I whispered. “So Donald needed to start his own legacy, to make his own mark and move beyond his father and his grandfather’s shadows,” I said.

“Indeed,” said Sylvia.

“But even back then, Donald felt trapped. New Orleans was the bastion of his family’s power, and he felt that the only way he could ever escape his family’s influence was to leave New Orleans.”

“So he moved to Chicago?”

“Back in the day dear,” Sylvia continued, “Chicago was a major hub for economic activity. Many a warm-blooded young man would have gravitated toward Chicago given the option.”

“And fate put the two men in touch with each other?”

“Donald happened to attend a lecture that Donnie was giving at the University of Chicago in the early nineties,” said Sylvia. “The lecture itself was innocuous enough, just a small study into miniaturization and the power that lay in the shrinking silicon microarchitecture that was to be the defining moment for the Silicon Valley movement. But instead of California, this revolution was happening in Chicago of all places, and this brilliant man was behind it all.”

“So Donald found himself attracted to Donovan Hunter?” I asked.

“Attracted is a good word for it. Donald was drawn to Donovan’s brilliance, at his simple manner of speaking, but far more than that, Donald saw in Donnie, his opportunity to break away from his family’s circle of influence and strike out on his own.”

“Donald became one of Donnie Hunter’s earliest investors,” I said.

“Donald Ashcroft saved Hunter Robotics from bankruptcy,” said Sylvia. She stood up now, and paced the old carpet that had been laid out carefully on the immaculately clean floors of her home.

“So with Donovan’s money situation handled he could finally focus on his nanotechnology?”

“Yes, that is correct. But that was the beginning of the change that happened to Donovan Hunter. What happened in those next few years was truly dreadful for poor Astrid.”

“What happened during that time?”

Sylvia had a sad look on her face, but it passed and she smiled faintly. “That’s when Donovan found out just how special Astrid was; how unique our family was.” Sylvia turned to me gravely then, her eyes looking straight at mine without speaking for a few moments.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked

“That’s when Donovan Hunter found out that the Van Dyke family possessed powers beyond the realm of human experience.”

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