The Girl They Chose

The Whitmores

The Whitmores didn't live in Washington.

They lived where Washington went when it wanted privacy.

The limousine crossed the Potomac and continued into Northern Virginia, leaving the city behind for winding roads, stone walls and properties hidden by old trees.

The limousine was too large for three people.

Nina sat in the far corner anyway.

Her knees were drawn towards her chest beneath the driver’s jacket, one hand buried in the pocket, fingers curled tightly around the hourglass.

Vivian sat on the same row with her.

Sebastian faced them from the opposite seat, one ankle resting on his knee as he scrolled through his phone.

The windows were tinted too dark, and she had never been good at geography beyond what appeared on school worksheets.

Where were they taking her?

Home, Vivian had said.

Nina looked down at the jacket covering her legs.

What was she supposed to do there?

The Whitmores already had a daughter.

They had Vivian.

They clearly did not need another one.

And people like the Whitmores did not need anything from girls like Nina.

That thought bothered her most.

The air-conditioning hummed quietly.

Vivian sat beside her, one leg crossed over the other, completely at ease.

“Colder,” she had told the driver when they first got in.

Apparently Vivian hated heat.

The vents had obeyed.

Nina tried not to shiver.

The jacket helped, but her bare legs were still cold. She tucked them closer underneath herself.

Across from them, Sebastian had noticed.

He sat sideways in his seat with the relaxed posture of someone who had never once worried about where he was being taken. A tumbler rested loosely in his hand, filled with amber liquid and ice.

Nina looked at it.

Then at him.

He caught her looking.

“Whisky.”

She looked away.

“I didn’t ask.”

He took another sip.

Vivian glanced between them.

“Stop talking to her.”

Sebastian’s mouth twitched.

“I answered a question she didn’t ask.”

“That’s worse.”

“Probably.”

Vivian ignored him and turned back to Nina.

She had been watching her intermittently since they left St. Catherine’s.

Not staring exactly.

Examining.

There was something deeply uncomfortable about it.

Nina knew what it was like to be assessed.

Caseworkers assessed you.

Doctors assessed you.

Potential foster families assessed you.

They asked about grades, behaviors, medical history, trauma responses and whether you were “comfortable around younger children”.

But Vivian’s attention felt different.

She wasn’t deciding whether Nina was suitable.

She had already decided that.

She was studying something she had acquired.

“Nina.”

Nina looked at her.

“What are you thinking?”

“Nothing.”

Vivian smiled.

“That’s impossible.”

Nina said nothing.

Vivian shifted closer.

“What were you thinking?”

Nina watched another line of trees disappear behind the window.

Her future had been simple yesterday.

Bad.

But simple.

Four years.

Turn eighteen.

Leave St. Catherine’s.

Find somewhere cheap to live.

Get a job.

Perhaps go to college if she could manage it.

Perhaps not.

She had never imagined anything grand.

That had been part of its appeal.

A small apartment would have been enough.

A door that locked from the inside.

A kettle.

A bed.

A window.

No one deciding when she woke up.

No one keeping records about her behaviour.

No one being able to send her anywhere.

It had been a miserable little future.

She had loved it.

Now she could no longer see even that.

Vivian leaned against her shoulder.

The gesture was so casual that Nina stiffened for only a second.

Vivian noticed.

“Are you afraid of me?”

Nina considered lying.

“Yes.”

Sebastian’s eyes moved towards them.

Vivian, however, looked delighted.

“Good.”

Nina frowned.

“That was the wrong answer?”

“No. It was a much better answer than pretending.”

Vivian rested her head against Nina’s shoulder.

Nina did not move.

For several moments there was only the quiet engine beneath them.

Then Vivian said, “Do you know why I chose you?”

Nina shook her head.

Vivian lifted her head.

“Look at me.”

Nina did.

Vivian reached over and lightly caught Nina’s chin between her fingers.

There was no force in it at first.

There didn’t need to be.

Their eyes met.

“You didn’t want me.”

Nina blinked.

“That’s why.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Everyone else did.”

Vivian released her.

“At St. Catherine’s. Everyone was trying to make me like them. Smiling. Standing straighter. Trying to look sweet or clever or sad enough that I’d remember them.”

She smiled slightly.

“You were looking out the window.”

Nina said nothing.

“You didn’t care who I was.”

“I knew who you were.”

“Eventually.”

Vivian’s smile widened.

“But you still didn’t care.”

Nina looked back towards the window.

“That offended you?”

“Interested me.”

“That sounds worse.”

Sebastian laughed softly into his glass.

Vivian shot him a look.

He raised one hand in surrender.

Then Vivian turned back to Nina.

“And your eyes.”

Nina hesitated.

“My eyes?”

“They’re strange.”

Nina’s fingers tightened around the hourglass.

Vivian leaned closer, studying them again.

“Everyone in my family has Whitmore eyes.”

“What are Whitmore eyes?”

“Suspicious.”

Sebastian answered before Vivian could.

“Rude.”

“Observant.”

“Paranoid.”

“Selective.”

“Judgemental.”

Vivian looked at him.

“You’ve made your point.”

“I wasn’t sure.”

She turned back to Nina.

“Your eyes aren’t like ours.”

“What are mine like?”

Vivian considered this seriously.

“Clear.”

Nina nearly laughed.

She had been called many things.

Quiet.

Difficult.

Detached.

Uncooperative.

Emotionally withdrawn.

No one had ever called her clear.

Vivian continued.

“But not empty.”

Her voice had softened.

“There’s something underneath.”

Nina remembered Sebastian looking at her at St. Catherine’s.

The same uncomfortable feeling returned.

As if the Whitmores could see through skin.

“I wanted that,” Vivian said simply.

Nina stared at her.

“You wanted my eyes?”

“I wanted you.”

There it was again.

Not we wanted to help you.

Not we thought you needed a family.

Not even I liked you.

I wanted you.

Vivian said things with unnerving precision.

Nina almost preferred it.

Almost.

Vivian settled back against the leather seat.

“So remember something.”

“What?”

“You belong with me now.”

Nina felt something tighten inside her chest.

Vivian continued before she could answer.

“You don’t have to impress my grandfather. You don’t have to impress my uncles. You don’t have to impress my brothers.”

Her eyes flicked briefly towards Sebastian.

“Especially my brothers.”

Sebastian sighed.

“There are five of us, Viv. This campaign is going to become exhausting.”

“I have stamina.”

“I know. That’s what worries me.”

Nina looked between them.

Six brothers.

She had thought Sebastian was simply one of several. But Five.

“And you’re the youngest?” she asked.

Sebastian smiled.

“The sixth son.”

Vivian immediately corrected her.

“My youngest elder brother.”

“Same thing.”

“It sounds ridiculous when you say it that way.”

“I rather like it. Biblical.”

“You’re not biblical.”

“I have several qualities associated with plagues.”

Vivian laughed.

It was the first moment since leaving St. Catherine’s that Nina forgot to be afraid.

Only for a second.

Then Vivian took her hand.

“You only need to remember one thing.”

Nina looked at their joined fingers.

“What?”

“If something happens, you come to me.”

“And if you cause it?”

Sebastian choked on his drink.

Vivian stared at Nina.

For one terrible second, Nina wondered whether she had gone too far.

Then Vivian smiled.

Slowly.

Beautifully.

“That,” she said, “is exactly why I brought you home.”

Across from them, Sebastian watched his sister.

Then Nina.

He reached forward and quietly adjusted the temperature control.

The fan slowed.

Warm air began to mix with the cold.

Vivian glanced at the display.

Then at Sebastian.

He took another sip of whisky.

“What?”

“I was comfortable.”

“Nina wasn’t.”

Vivian looked beside her.

Only then did she seem to notice Nina’s trembling.

Her expression changed.

Not guilt.

Something stranger.

Annoyance, perhaps.

As though Nina’s discomfort were a malfunction in something Vivian had already decided should be perfect.

“You should have said something.”

Nina stared at her.

“You told the driver to make it colder.”

“So?”

“So I assumed you wanted it cold.”

“I did.”

Vivian frowned.

“That doesn’t mean you have to freeze.”

Nina had no answer to that.

The logic was distinctly Whitmore.

A few minutes later, the city disappeared entirely.

They passed through iron gates.

Nina sat straighter.

There had been no sign.

No name.

Only two stone pillars and a security booth set far enough back among the trees that she almost missed it.

The guard recognised the car immediately.

The gates opened.

They drove for another three minutes.

Then Nina saw the house.

House was the wrong word.

St. Catherine’s was a building.

This was something else.

The Whitmore residence stood beyond an enormous lawn surrounded by old oaks and clipped hedges. The centre section was built from pale Virginia stone, with tall windows, columns and a slate roof. Two wings extended away from it at angles, connected by covered walkways.

It looked old.

Not neglected old.

Powerful old.

The kind of place that expected generations of people to pass through it while remaining exactly where it was.

Nina stared.

Sebastian noticed.

“Disappointed?”

She looked at him.

“I don’t know what expression I’m supposed to have.”

“That one is fine.”

Vivian leaned across Nina to look out the window.

“Grandfather hates modern houses.”

“He hates most things built after 1950,” Sebastian said.

“He says buildings used to have dignity.”

“He also says yoghurt is suspicious.”

“That’s unrelated.”

“I think it establishes a pattern.”

The car curved around a fountain and stopped beneath a covered entrance.

Before the driver could reach the door, it opened.

People were waiting.

Too many people.

Nina’s stomach tightened.

Four young men stood near the front steps.

For one disorienting second she thought she was looking at variations of Sebastian.

Not copies.

Nothing so simple.

But the resemblance was there.

The Whitmore eyes.

The posture.

The peculiar certainty with which they occupied space.

The oldest appeared to be in his mid-twenties.

The youngest of those waiting could not have been much older than Sebastian.

Four

Sebastian made five.

That meant one was missing.

The moment Vivian stepped from the car, the entire group changed.

“Viv!”

She ran towards them.

The eldest man opened his arms and caught her easily.

“There’s our tyrant.”

“Alexander!”

“Did you find what you wanted?”

Vivian nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes.”

The other brothers exchanged glances.

Alexander Whitmore was twenty-four and looked almost offensively composed. Dark hair. Grey eyes. Navy trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled once at the wrists.

Unlike Sebastian, his smile revealed exactly what he was thinking.

At least Nina thought it did.

She would learn later that this was one of Alexander’s more useful talents.

Vivian pulled away from him.

“You’re all going to like her.”

A man beside Alexander laughed.

“That sounds less like a prediction than an instruction.”

Vivian pointed at him.

“You especially.”

“Why especially me?”

“Because you’re difficult.”

“I’m wounded.”

“You’ll survive.”

Sebastian got out of the car.

“Barely.”

The brothers greeted him with considerably less ceremony.

“Seb.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Still alive?”

“Against several family wishes.”

Nina remained in the car.

No one seemed to notice at first.

That suited her.

She could simply stay there.

Perhaps the driver would eventually become confused and take her back.

Then Sebastian looked over his shoulder.

His eyes found hers through the open door.

So much for that plan.

Vivian followed his gaze.

“Nina.”

Every Whitmore turned.

Nina’s fingers closed more tightly around the jacket.

Vivian walked back to the car and held out her hand.

“Come.”

Nina looked at it.

Then at the men waiting outside.

Four brothers.

All watching.

She took Vivian’s hand.

The moment she stepped from the car, the driver’s jacket shifted around her knees.

Alexander’s eyes narrowed.

Another brother raised his eyebrows.

A third looked immediately at Sebastian.

“What happened to her clothes?”

“Vivian happened,” Sebastian said.

Vivian ignored that.

She tugged Nina forward.

“This is Nina.”

The brothers studied her.

Nina lowered her eyes.

She could feel each look distinctly.

Not cruel.

Not kind.

Curious.

Assessing.

Very Whitmore.

Vivian began pointing.

“Alexander. Eldest.”

Alexander inclined his head.

“Hello, Nina.”

“Nathaniel. second.”

Nathaniel was broader than the others and carried himself with unmistakable military stiffness despite wearing ordinary clothes.

He nodded once.

“Welcome.”

“Christopher. Third.”

Christopher smiled.

His smile was warmer than Alexander’s and much less dangerous than Sebastian’s.

“Hi.”

Vivian looked along the line.

A space.

Then the next brother.

“Lucas is fourth, but he’s hiding somewhere because he thinks being a star excuses antisocial behaviour.”

“It does,” Sebastien said.

“No, it doesn’t.”

She pointed again.

“Elliot. Fifth.”

Elliot looked nineteen or twenty and had the restless energy of someone whose thoughts routinely moved faster than the conversation.

He gave Nina a quick grin.

“So you’re the famous Nina.”

Nina blinked.

“Famous?”

“We’ve been hearing about you for forty-seven minutes.”

Vivian glared at him.

“You timed it?”

“I was bored.”

Finally Vivian pointed towards Sebastian.

“And you already met Six.”

Sebastian looked offended.

“Six?”

Vivian smiled sweetly.

“You said you liked it.”

“I said sixth son had a biblical quality. I did not consent to becoming a number.”

Elliot laughed.

“Six suits you.”

“Five, be quiet.”

“See? This is excellent.”

For the first time Nina understood how six brothers might actually function.

Badly.

Vivian stepped beside her and slipped an arm through Nina’s.

“And Nina is my sister.”

Silence.

It lasted only a second.

But Nina felt it.

Alexander’s expression changed almost imperceptibly.

Nathaniel looked at Vivian.

Christopher stopped smiling.

Elliot’s eyebrows rose.

Sebastian put both hands into his pockets.

Vivian noticed all of it.

Naturally.

She lifted her chin.

“Is there a problem?”

Alexander answered first.

“No.”

Vivian smiled.

“Good.”

“That being said,” Alexander murmured, “I’m fairly certain siblings usually require either shared parents or paperwork.”

“Then get paperwork.”

Nathaniel stared at her.

Vivian stared back.

Sebastian leaned towards Nina.

“Welcome to government.”

Nina almost smiled.

Almost.

Alexander noticed.

His attention sharpened.

Then he looked at Vivian.

“Grandfather’s waiting.”

Vivian immediately brightened.

“Come on.”

She started towards the house, taking Nina with her.

Alexander called after them.

“Clothes first.”

Vivian stopped.

He gestured towards Nina.

“Unless Grandfather has become significantly more progressive since breakfast.”

Vivian looked down.

Apparently she had forgotten.

Nina wondered how a person forgot someone else was wearing a chauffeur’s jacket and almost nothing else.

Vivian sighed.

“Fine.”

She turned towards Nina.

“We’ll change.”

Nina glanced back.

Six pairs of Whitmore eyes followed her.

One brother missing.

Six in total.

One sister.

And now, apparently, her.

She did not understand what kind of family had enough power to rearrange another person’s life before lunch.

She suspected she was about to find out.