Liz's mother, Lewa Otium, has cooked a feast for me. She has also pulled out her fancy baby blue china from the antique hutch in the kitchen. I'm afraid to sneeze because I might break something. There's a reason Grams sold her fancy china, because I'm sort of a hazard around it, unfortunately.

I glance around the dinner table, my gaze resting on Lewa. She really is a beautiful woman, with glassy almond eyes that look like pieces of onyx and cheek bones so high I can climb them.

I've rarely ever sat around a dinner table like this. It was always just me and Grams in front of the TV with our rice plates or beans, Lauren would eat hours later if she bothered coming home from work that night. The hum in the air is surprisingly comforting.

I'd be more comforted though, if I could somehow shake the feeling that Liz is upset with something, ever since we arrived here two hours ago. She hasn't said anything, hasn't even frowned. In fact, it's been all smiles and giggles from her. But there's a rigidness in her form that wasn't there back at Robus.

I lean a little to my left, towards Liz. "Your parents are..."

"Overwhelming," she finishes for me, a fond smile on her full lips.

"Warm," I correct. Liz lights up, grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeah?"

I nod in response. I've learnt so much about Liz in the past two hours I don't even know if I've digested all of it.

I know that her father, Obi, calls her poppy because she saw poppies for the first time when she was 5 and her immediate reaction was to eat a bunch of them. Of course, that was a problem, since poppies contain morphine, which is used for heroin. So basically, Liz took drugs from the tender age of 5.

I also now know that her room is very, very, pink. Her little brother always eats potato chips on her bed and her mother went from being a master thief of a major ring to a high-profile marketing mogul. Her father makes furniture in his spare time and she herself has helped design a few pieces.

Liz puts down her fork and clears her throat. "Mom, Dad, we don't have too much time. We'll have to head out tonight."

Lewa says, "Of course. Your dad will go with the two of you to The Cradle while I meet a few of my contacts. And Davey my little baby, you're gonna have a sleepover with the Jones okay?"

Davis, a six-year-old small enough that his feet don't even reach the white tiles, groans very loudly. "George Jones has boogers!" he screeches, jumping out his seat and darting up the hardwood stairs.

It's like looking at a little Liz.

Lewa sighs. She tilts her head at Obi and he smirks, excusing himself from the table to hunt Davis down. Liz and I help Lewa clear the table before she ushers us away, encouraging us to just hang out for a bit before leave.

Even though it's my second time, I still take in a sharp breath when I see Liz's room. So so pink.

"I never would've pegged you as a pink person."

She laughs as she plops herself on her queen bed, burying her face in the pink fur comforter. "If I decorated our dorm like this you would'a moved out in the first week. And let me tell you, solo life is not fun."

She holds back on the pink for me? "You can decorate as you wish, its only a room. Switching rooms is tedious anyways, there's no danger of me leaving."

"So I can paint all our walls pink?" She's testing me. But for all my effort to remain neutral, I know the instant rising of my eyebrows gives me away.

"My point exactly."

I chuckle and suggest, "maybe start with something small, like a pillowcase."

She sits up in bed, holding up a hand to me between all her giggles. "Nah, I'm over pink. I'm in love with teal now. Just haven't had the heart to change all of this yet."

Maybe I should just ask her what's been bothering her. But if I'm wrong and she's totally fine then... no, its better to ask.

I sidestep the scattered Jenga blocks on the floor beside her stack of neon boas and sit on the bed, perched near the edge. Taking in a deep breath, I muster up the courage and ask, "Liz, what's upsetting you? You've been off since we got here."

Her smile falls like Icarus, completely expected. She crawls off the bed and paces around the room for the better half of a minute before seating herself in the bay windows.

When she looks at me, she smiles again. "I have a date with Harrison next week."

"Whoa, Harrison from your law class? That's so cool-" I stop instantly, realizing exactly what she's doing. She's trying to distract me. I will not be distracted.

A silence settles between. So quiet that I can hear faint chatter of the children playing outside, across the street. Then, Lewa comes barreling in through the door bringing with her a hell of a storm. Her arms are full of dresses and she takes care as she sets them out on the bed in front of Liz, one by one for a total of 6.

"For the gala," she explains. "I'll be right back, just a few more."

"Mom," Liz purses her lips, rubbing the back of her neck. "Which associates are you meeting with, exactly?"

Lewa shifts her weight from one leg to the other. She rests her hand on the alabaster colored chair nearby. "Did you hear? Davis has a girl he wants to bring to the gala this year! He's only six, little baby."

Ha, like mother like daughter. Master distracters.

"Mom." Liz's tone is hard, even more than her face.

The two stare each other down before Lewa finally sighs while wistfully twirling one of her braids. "I'm meeting with a couple of the people who were with me back when I was running the Green Mist. And uh, well I'll primarily be spending the night trying to pry information from Hale."

Liz gasps. She covers her slack jaw with both her hands, eyes blinking rapidly. "Hale?! Last time you two were in contact he almost killed you!"

"I know that, Elizabeth. Don't you think I know that? But the information we need is difficult so the people I have to tangle with reflect that."

"Hale is more than just 'dificult'" Liz grumbles, then adds, "does dad know?"

Soft wrinkles form around Lewa's eyes as she grins. "Of course. He's Obi, there's not much I can hide from him."

"Lewa, please be safe," I mumble. Why did I just say that? Stupid compulsions, the last thing I want is to interfere with such a beautiful family.

But Lewa simply nods. She holds my gaze for a while before excusing herself for the rest of the dresses.

"For the past year I've felt that I have another sibling that I don't know about," Liz blurts out.

What?

"See, this is why I didn't say anything. Now you think I'm insane."

"I didn't say anything."

"Yeah but your eyes bugged out and your stupid lips were all parted in badly masked shock."

Oh, she saw that. I mean, of course she saw! Wow, I really need to work on my poker face.

I leap off the bed and squish myself beside her. Our shoulders, arms, legs, and thighs are pressed close to each other. It almost feels like an extension of myself. "You're not insane. We are part of a world where people can transform into other people! You can sort of fly, I can make streams of water do my bidding. I mean, just yesterday Ethan caused Justin to roll down a cliff and they found a skeleton."

"My point is, if you're feeling this way then there's a reason. I don't know what, but there is a reason. Honestly, you're so damn stable I know it can't be in your head. And when we get back, I'll help you. In any way I can, I'll help. And we'll figure it out."

Liz flashes a small smile and rests her head on my shoulder. "Thank you, Tori."

That there is genuine gratitude. And I have no idea what to do with it or where to put it because it's so damn genuine. It's time for a distraction of my own.

"So, the dresses. I think you should go for the silver silk one. It'll look gorgeous with your tone. And it's got one of those deep v-necklines which goes well with your... uhm, cleavage."

Apparently, my fumbling when it comes to describing her chest is hilarious because she practically rolls over with laughter. She's shaking so much that her hold on my arm is causing my shoulder to shake.

"Tori you're so adorable. We're friends, you can tell me I have a bomb ass rack."

"Well, it's not like I could've known that," I grumble in my defense. I'm more than aware of the blood rushing to my cheeks.

"Haven't you had any... I mean don't you have a sis- you know what, never mind. C'mon, we have a few hours before we leave. Time for a fashion show!"

Oh dear god.

***/\/\***

I've never been in a bar this extraordinary. I've been in a lot of bars, unfortunately, but nothing quite like this.

"The Cradle is a bar for mages so you'll see a lot of crazy," Obi explains loudly as I strain to hear him over all the music and chatter. He motions towards the left of the room and wanders off. Probably to meet some of his contacts.

He's right. Everywhere I look, something is going on. From the outside, The Cradle is a small brownstone with shuttered windows and pink picket fence circling the perimeter. It looks like it could be nothing other than a house.

But from the inside, that's another story. From the inside, The Cradle is practically a massive, massive ballroom built like a clock. The room as a high ceiling and is circular, split into 'slices' corresponding to each number on the clock. The floor of each slice is elevated at different levels and made of different materials ranging from bamboo slats to marble tiles.

In the middle of the room the slices all come to a halt to form an inner ring. The floor of the inner ring is of sleek obsidian, it's where the bartender and his color changing quartz countertop is.

"Holy shit..." I mumble. I can feel my mouth hanging open and I know how painfully obvious it must be that its my first time here. But how can I act nonchalant when each slice holds a different number?

"They're called 'cells'. Its morbid as hell, some guy last time tried to explain to me the artistic irony of it though I wasn't really listening because man, he had a badass mustache. It was purple!" Liz explains. She smiles wide and hooks her arm in mine.

"Cell 8, home of the pastel lovers." We stop in front of a 'cell' in which two men outfitted in skintight blue leather body suits stood facing each other a meter apart with their arms raise high. Above them, a huge cloud of pink fluffy cotton candy whirled around. They continued to do this as the patrons used the ledges embedded in the wall to leap and grab handfuls.

"It's some sort of a sport, I'm guessing?" Liz only giggles in response as she takes me across the room. "Cell 2, the Invad lounge."

Wow, this is just about the only cell that's familiar. It resembles a classic old-fashioned bar, complete with burgundy wall paper, round brown leather stools and men with cigars in their mouths and cards in their hands.

Before I can help myself, my head swivels in every direction, taking in what each cell has to offer. One of them hosts a platform with a band where the lead singer has a turquoise undercut and a dazzling gold guitar in her hands. Every time her nimble fingers make contact with the string, bolts of lightning dance around her to the beat she's creating.

But it the cell to the right of the guitarist that catches my eye. The cell is a juxtaposition of fire and water, air and earth. People inside entertain one another by putting on stunts the element matching their costumes.

Liz tilts her head as she follows my gaze. She chuckles as she stage-whispers "and that is the guardian fan club."

"We have a fan club?!"

"You're likeable enough, Vicky dear," she coos, fanning her face and batting her lashes as if she were an Elizabethan era heroine.

I gesture towards the fan club, my eyes setting on the woman towards the back of the cell. She's about as tall as Liz with long curly brown locks and she's happily bobbing around underwater, completely submerged in a ten-foot glass tank.

"Is she breathing underwater?" I ask. Liz doesn't answer. When I look at her she has a scowl on her face. Odd, in the 4 months I've known her I've only seen that scowl once-when Ethan used her straightener for one of his inventions.

"That's Ellen. Ellen is bad. Ellen is a snake that's has pulled more scams then I have eaten chicken nuggets. And you know I love my nuggets, Tori." And with that she whisks me away to the bartender.

As soon as I sit on the bar stool Liz softly says, "sorry about that gorgeous, I hate getting upset. But Ellen is seriously horrible and you're alarmingly curious."

"You can trust to not get myself killed," I assure her. I won't make any other type of promise because I really want to learn how to breath underwater.

She introduces me to the bartender and the three of us chat for a bit. But then Liz spots a familiar face in one of the cells. She turns to me and hastily explains, "over there, that's Hermin. He's knows everything and he hates everyone. I'm gonna talk to him but I can't bring you else he'll keep those scabby lips shut." Then she's off.

Almost immediately after she's out of sight, I feel a hand tap my shoulder.

It's Ellen. Maybe I should leave, as a courtesy to Liz. Or I could stay, try to see what I can get.

"I know you know my name, she told you. I also know she attached a warning with it. Snobby guardians tend to look down on people."

"Snobby guardians? Weren't you hanging out with their fan club a while ago?" I counter.

"Doesn't mean I'm a fan."

She continues to look at me, but doesn't say anything. "Can I help you?" I ask.

"No, but I think I can help you. You seemed interested when I was in the tank."

"You can teach me how to do that?"

Proceed with caution, Victoria.

"There's nothing better than helping an idiot out." She slides me a small piece of paper. "tonight, 11 pm. Wear something old, dispensable. I'm a difficult teacher."

/\/\/\***/\/\/\

Omg I'm so excited about the next chapter bc [can't reveal yet].

But at the same time, I'll be spending the next few days editing this and the past 3 chapters rather than writing. I've been getting backed up and now's as good of a time to edit than any.

What are your thoughts on this chapter? We got a look at the Otiums! 

Any theories on what they find? or what the deal with Ellen is?

Or even, what's up with Liz's 'concern'?