NEMESIS

CHAPTER TWO - THE MESSAGE

CHAPTER TWO - THE MESSAGE

Later that night, Luna couldn't sleep.

She stood by the bedroom window, looking at the rain.

Her room was almost exactly how she'd left it.

Her old books were still on one shelf.

Photographs sat inside a wooden frame on the desk.

There was even a small stuffed bear her father had bought her when she was nine.

She picked it up.

"You survived," she whispered.

She smiled.

Then her phone vibrated.

A message.

UNKNOWN NUMBER.

Luna frowned.

She opened it.

There was no greeting.

No explanation.

Only four words.

WELCOME HOME, LUNA.

Her smile disappeared.

She stared at the screen.

A second message arrived.

YOUR FATHER KNOWS WHY.

Luna's heart began beating faster.

She looked toward the bedroom door.

Silence.

She typed:

Who is this?

She waited.

Nothing.

She typed again:

Who are you?

Three dots appeared.

Then disappeared.

Appeared again.

Then finally:

ASK HIM ABOUT THE FIRE.

Luna froze.

The rain suddenly sounded louder.

She stared at those words.

The fire.

What fire?

She had heard her father talk about fires before. His work had involved emergency response, so fires were hardly unusual.

But the message didn't sound like someone talking about his job.

It sounded personal.

Luna walked out of her bedroom.

The hallway was dark.

She moved quietly toward her parents' room.

Their door was slightly open.

She could hear her mother's voice.

"Paul..."

Her father's voice followed.

"We can't keep talking about this."

Luna stopped.

Her mother said something too quietly for Luna to hear.

Then Paul answered.

"I told you. Nobody is coming back."

Luna's breath caught.

Nobody is coming back.

She stepped backward.

The floor creaked.

The voices stopped.

Luna hurried back to her room.

She shut the door and leaned against it.

A few seconds later, she heard her father's footsteps in the hallway.

He stopped outside her room.

"Luna?"

She held her breath.

"Are you awake?" Paul asked.

She forced herself to answer.

"Yes, Daddy."

The door opened slightly.

Paul looked inside.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes."

He studied her.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

A pause.

Then he smiled.

"Get some sleep. Tomorrow is your first day."

"Okay."

He closed the door.

Luna waited until she heard his footsteps disappear.

Then she looked at her phone again.

The messages were still there.

She opened the unknown number.

There was one more message.

HE LIED TO YOU.

Luna stared at it.

Then the phone went black.

THE NEXT MORNING

The next morning, the message was gone.

Luna checked three times.

The conversation had disappeared completely.

She searched her deleted messages.

Nothing.

She checked her phone's notification history.

Nothing.

For several minutes, she wondered if she had imagined it.

Maybe she'd been half asleep.

Maybe it was some strange dream.

But she remembered the words.

Perfectly.

ASK HIM ABOUT THE FIRE.

She went downstairs.

Paul was already dressed.

He was sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee.

"Morning," he said.

"Good morning, Daddy."

"You slept well?"

"Yes."

The lie came too easily.

Paul smiled.

"Today is the day."

Luna nodded.

"I'm nervous."

"Good."

She frowned.

"Good?"

"Fear keeps you alert."

"I thought you were going to tell me not to be afraid."

Paul took a sip of coffee.

"I would never tell you that."

"Why?"

"Because fear isn't weakness."

He looked directly at her.

"Being controlled by fear is."

Luna sat opposite him.

"Daddy..."

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Paul put down his cup.

"Of course."

She hesitated.

"The fire."

His expression changed.

It was so subtle that another person might not have noticed.

Luna did.

"What fire?"

"The one you were talking about last night."

Paul stared at her.

"I wasn't talking about any fire."

"You were."

"No."

"I heard you."

Silence.

Paul leaned back.

"Maybe you misunderstood."

Luna studied him.

"Did something happen years ago?"

Paul looked toward the window.

"Lots of things happened years ago."

"That's not an answer."

"No."

"Then give me one."

Paul sighed.

"Luna, there are things from the past that don't need to follow us into the future."

Her stomach tightened.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you should concentrate on your new job."

"But—"

"Luna."

His voice was firm.

She stopped.

Paul stood.

"You wanted this career. You worked for it. Don't allow unnecessary things to distract you."

He picked up his keys.

"I'm going out."

"Where?"

"Somewhere."

"Daddy."

He looked back.

"For your first day, remember something."

"What?"

"People will panic."

Luna waited.

"Don't."

Then he left.

She watched him walk through the front door.

Something was wrong.

She didn't know what.

But something was definitely wrong.

THE FIRST CALL

At 8:17 a.m., Luna arrived at the emergency response station.

Her first official shift.

She stepped out of the vehicle and looked at the ambulance parked outside.

For years she had watched her father climb into vehicles like that.

Now she was the one wearing the uniform.

Her hands trembled slightly.

She looked down.

Then smiled.

"Okay, Luna."

She breathed in.

"Let's do this."

Her supervisor, Miriam, approached.

"You must be Luna."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Paul's daughter?"

Luna smiled.

"Yes."

Miriam nodded.

"I remember your father."

"You worked with him?"

"For years."

There was something strange about the way she said it.

Not anger.

Not affection.

Something in between.

"He was good at his job," Miriam added.

Luna smiled proudly.

"He taught me everything."

Miriam looked at her for a second.

Then she said:

"Let's hope that's all he taught you."

Luna laughed, assuming it was a joke.

It wasn't.

THE ACCIDENT

The first emergency call came before noon.

Road accident.

A motorcycle and a car.

Luna followed the team.

Her heart raced as they approached the scene.

People were shouting.

Someone was crying.

A man lay on the ground.

Luna immediately went into training mode.

She knelt.

Checked his breathing.

Pulse.

Bleeding.

She spoke calmly.

"Sir, can you hear me?"

The man's eyes opened.

He grabbed her wrist.

His eyes widened.

"Paul..."

Luna froze.

"What?"

The man's fingers tightened around her.

"Paul..."

"What about him?"

The man tried to speak.

But his eyes suddenly rolled backward.

Luna called for assistance.

The team worked quickly.

Minutes later, the man was stabilized and transported.

Luna remained behind for a moment.

She looked at the blood on her gloves.

Paul.

Why had that man said her father's name?

THE PHOTOGRAPH

That evening, Luna returned home exhausted.

She entered the house.

"Mummy?"

No answer.

"Daddy?"

Silence.

She walked into the living room.

Her father's chair was empty.

His shoes weren't there.

She checked the kitchen.

Nothing.

Her mother finally came downstairs.

"Luna?"

"Where's Daddy?"

Her mother stopped.

"He went out."

"Where?"

"I don't know."

"When?"

"Earlier."

Luna frowned.

"Did he say where?"

Her mother shook her head.

Something was wrong.

Again.

Before Luna could ask another question, there was a loud knock at the door.

Three knocks.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Her mother looked toward the door.

Luna did too.

Another knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Her mother whispered:

"Don't open it."

Luna looked at her.

"Why?"

"I said don't."

The knocking stopped.

For several seconds, there was silence.

Then something slid underneath the door.

A photograph.

Luna's heart dropped.

Her mother took a step backward.

Luna approached the photograph.

She picked it up.

It was old.

Very old.

There were several people standing outside a building.

Paul was among them.

Luna recognized him immediately.

But there was another man in the photograph.

A young man.

Maybe eighteen or nineteen.

His face had been scratched repeatedly with something sharp.

Luna turned the photograph over.

Three words were written on the back.

HE SURVIVED THE FIRE.

Her mother made a sound behind her.

Luna's blood ran cold.

She turned around.

Her mother was crying.

Not silently.

Not gently.

She looked terrified.

"What fire?"

Her mother didn't answer.

"Mummy."

Still nothing.

"What happened?"

Her mother covered her mouth.

Then whispered:

"David."

Luna's blood ran cold.

"Who is David?"

Her mother looked toward the door.

And for the first time in Luna's life, she saw genuine fear in her mother's eyes.

"He's supposed to be dead."

Outside, somewhere beyond the house, a car engine started.

Luna rushed toward the window.

The street was empty.

Except for a man standing beneath a streetlight at the far end of the road.

He was too far away to see his face.

He stood completely still.

Watching the house.

Then the light flickered.

Once.

Twice.

And went out.

When it came back on...

the man was gone.

Luna stepped away from the window.

She looked down at the photograph again.

The scratched-out face seemed to stare back at her.

And somewhere in the darkness outside, a phone began to ring.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then stopped.

Luna didn't know it yet.

But the man everyone believed had died years ago had just come home.

And this time...

he wasn't coming back for forgiveness.