[ELLE'S PoV] 

"So you want me to get inside that snarling beast?" Marc asked, his eyebrows rising to his hairline.

I rolled my eyes and shifted the box I was holding to put my free hand on my hip. "First, her name is Petunia and she passed inspection just fine, thank you. Second, you cannot seriously try to tell me you haven't at the very least ridden in like... a carriage or something?"

"Carriages do not rumble and bellow smoke." Marc pointed at my car. "This is one of your 'science' devices, and that police officer already made me ride in one. It was highly unpleasant and smelled of dried beef."

I sighed. "Marc, get in the car. I live four hours from here."

Marc opened the passenger side door and sniffed loudly before deeming Petunia acceptable and climbing in.

I set the box and my duffle bag on the back seat, then walked around to the drivers seat. "Seatbelt please."

This was going to be interesting, to say the least. Mags had been gone for a month, but I was trying not to think about that. At least I had something more pressing to distract myself with: fall break. It was only five days, including Saturday and Sunday, but the thing about fall break is that no one is allowed to stay on campus. Which, normally, fine. Whatever. Mags and I were just planning to spend it with my fam.

But now instead of Mags, I had Marc. And even though I warned my parents I would be bringing someone home, I was soooo not looking forward to the awkward questions and staring that would no doubt ensue.

"Okay, so what's your story?" I asked Marc as I pulled out of the parking garage and onto the the southbound road.

"My name is Marcus Villiers, I am a freshman theatre major from Lancaster PA, I come from an armish family—"

"Amish." I cut in. "God, don't get that of all things wrong."

"Amish family— so I am not familiar with technology. I uh... I am a mutual friend of yours and Magdalyn, I live in your building. You help me with my 'physics' homework." He recited all this without looking up from my DS, which he'd claimed as his own a few weeks back. One day when I decided to actually start attending classes again, he'd complained about being bored. I introduced him to the wonders of video games and he was instantly in love.

"Right, run through it a few times so you don't make a mistake." I turned the radio off when "White Christmas" started playing. Thanksgiving hadn't even been a thing yet, could they maybe chill?

"Question," Marc spoke up, "why is my name Marcus? It is rather bland."

"Bland, yeah, and normal." I shot him a slight smile. "I don't know anyone named Marcellus. I think it's a type of stone, actually."

He frowned. "A rock has my name but no people? Are you sure this is true?"

"Dude, I don't know. You think I know every person on earth? I'm just saying having a normal name will result in less probing from my parents. They're going to be weird enough because I'm bringing home someone other than Maggie for once in my entire existence."

"Alright, but," Marc pressed. "A strange name would be a distraction, correct? They will ask more questions about the name and less about my 'farm in Lankershire.'"

"Lan-cas-ter." I emphasized as I turned Petunia onto the highway, then glanced at Marc. He had a point. Huh, not something I ever expected to say. "Alright, fine, you can be Marcellus— just no 'of Samsara in Aeterna.'"

Marc pouted. "But my full title is impressive..."

"It's also not a thing here." We continued driving in silence for a while, before I got sick of the quiet and had Marc bluetooth my iPod so we could listen to anything but Christmas music. It took about twenty minutes longer than it should have, because he also demanded a lesson on the alphabet.

"But you're speaking English?" I noted.

"I am speaking Luminous, actually." Marc corrected. "Though I do agree it is nearly identical to your 'English.''

I shook my head. Linguistics was not my thing, computer code was much more straightforward. Finally we got my iPod connected, and I let Marc pick a song. The song he settled on was, surprise surprise, a song called "Angel" by Theory of a Deadman.

"I thought you said there were no angels in this world?" Marc gasped, his tone accusatory.

"There are no Pokemon either, but you're still playing the game." I shrugged, then changed the subject before we got into theology, another subject I wasn't the best at. "You're sure you didn't have to go to the bathroom? Because I'm on the highway now and there's not a rest stop for at least an hour and a half."

Marc looked up from the DS only for a moment and his eyes went wide. "This Petunia of yours is moving very quickly, as are the other... cars, you said? You are sure this is a safe method of travel?"

"I mean, it's kinda dangerous yeah. But if we were to walk home break would already be over by the time we got there." My math was probably wrong, but I didn't care to verify.

"Is it common to attend school so far from home?" Marc asked.

I shrugged. "Lots of people go out of state for school, so like, yeah I would say so. There's a great college just a few minutes outside my home town, that's where I would have rather gone."

"Why did you pick this one then?"

"Mags picked it."

Marc frowned, not understanding. "She chose your school for you?"

I frowned as well, that wording wasn't right. "No, she picked it for herself, I came along because... well, we're best friends. We always said we would go to the same college. She was really insistent about going to a school in this city. She's looking for something." I shifted in my seat and turned the warm air on.

"What is she look— no! bad Inari! Why did you hurt yourself?" Luckily, Marc's question was cut short by his newly developed Pokemon addiction. I wouldn't have answered anyway. Too much to get into.

"Inari?"

Marc nodded cheerfully. "That is what I named my Vulpix. A Vulpix is a fox, correct? I know a fox named Inari." He turned the DS toward me and pointed to every member of his team. "That Snorlax is Seraphim— my brother. The Charizard is Kindle, he is a jerk. The tiny purple thing there is Lydia, she is a jerk too. This Ekans is Jakoby, his smile makes me sad—"

"What did you say your brother's name was?" I interrupted.

"Seraphim. He's really cool, just sorta lazy as of late." Marc shrugged, then continued down the line. "This magicarp does not do much, but it's a fish so I named it Faye..."

I tuned him out, falling into my own thoughts. I knew the name Seraphim Villiers from the information I'd extracted from Dark Reckoning's code, and I don't know why I hadn't made the connection before.

I had already grudgingly accepted the fact that Marc was somehow from the world of my favorite video game, and I had been wary for a long time about the fact that he was an angel, and therefore one of the enemies in the game. But Marc had proven himself to he a harmless, friendly doofus.

Seraphim, on the other hand, was set to be one of the main villains of the new game. Cold. Calculating. Very evil. I chewed my lip. Seraphim was evil. Where did that put Marc?

"So what are your parents like?" I asked the first question that came to mind, just trying to distract myself from the current trajectory of my thoughts.

Marc froze. His finger hovered over the DS's X button, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. Yikes, okay, bad question. Just from that reaction I guessed his answer before he said it, and I wanted to seppuku right then and there. "Dead."

Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, I pressed the other to my face. "I'm really really really sorry Marc, I was just trying to make conversation, since we're going to see my family I was curious about yours..."

"Do not feel bad. I was young, but I have my memories to visit any time I want." He closed the DS and smiled genuinely at me. That was one thing I'd picked up on during my month with Marc: he had two kinds of smiles. His usual smile was broad, toothy, and confident.

He used that smile to flirt, brag, and greet new people (we had a fire drill and had to evacuate the building. In the lineup outside, he introduced himself to literally everyone and dragged me along. I wanted to die, but he had fun.)

I could count on one hand the number of times I'd seen his other smile. A soft close-mouthed curve, his blue eyes sparkling with genuine kindness. I liked that smile more, but to point that out would inform him I've actually been paying attention to his face. Which, God, I would never hear the end of that. Nope, I would keep it to myself and count it as a private victory every time he gave me a real smile.

Yeah, no. Marc wasn't evil. He was probably just too nice to pick up on what his brother was really like. After all, Seraphim was the only family he had.

The rest of the drive passed in relative silence. Every so often Marc would choose a new song and ask about one of the lyrics. We stopped once to use the bathroom, get gas, and grab some snacks. Marc discovered the existence of Slushies and nearly lost his mind.

It was sunset when we arrived in my boring little hometown and pulled into my driveway, gravel crunching under the tires. We stayed in the car for a moment, and I coached Marc on what farm-life is like one more time before we got out and grabbed our bags.

"Can you carry that box too?" I asked him as I pulled my duffle-bag onto my shoulder. I started for the porch, where the pumpkins from halloween were still sitting on the stairs, rotting away as usual. My fam had a thing for not getting rid of holiday decorations until way later. We once had a Christmas tree up until Valentines, because my dad couldn't be bothered to take it outside.

Speaking of the fam, the curtain to the living-room window rustled as I made my way across the porch, Marc trailing behind me. I pushed open the front door and was greeted by the scent of pumpkin air freshener, and my mother's voice coming from the living-room: "Trevor, she brought a boy home— a boy boy!"

I took a deep breath. So it begins. "Mama, Dad, I'm ho-ome!" I sang.

My mother scampered into view, all afro and stark-white grin. "Honey!" she exclaimed, pulling me into a tight hug. In my ear, she whispered: "I know you said you were bringing someone home with you for break but I wasn't expecting a boy someone. Wow, he sure is cute though..."

"Mama." I hissed, swatting her shoulder as I pulled out of the hug. "This is my friend, Marc." I said, gesturing to him.

Marc smiled brightly, set the box down, and then kissed my mom's hand all gentleman-like. Right, probably should have educated him on 21st century greeting customs? "Wonderful to meet you, Mother of Elle! I am Marcellus Villiers of... Lancaster."

"Marcellus, what a nice name," my mother said, while Marc shot me a smug grin. "You can call me Trisha."

When my dad entered the room, Marc literally bowed to him and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming. "Greetings, Father of Elle. As I said to your lovely wife, I am Marcellus Villiers of Lancaster."

"Nice to meet you, Marcellus," Dad answered, politely if somewhat bewildered. He approached and extended a hand to Marc, and I could practically see Marc's thought process as he considered whether he was supposed to kiss my dad's hand as well.

"Guys, stop being so weirdly formal," I cut in, my tone casual. "All the bowing and handshakes."

Marc shot me a silent, relived thank-you glance before taking Dad's hand and shaking it. He flexed his hand and smiled. "You have an impressive grip, Father of Elle."

"Mr. Carter is fine," dad answered, then he turned to me with a huge— though maybe somewhat sad?— smile and pulled me into a hug. "Great to have you home, Stellie. How are you holding up? Classes going alright still?"

I nodded and hugged him back. God, it was good to be home. I really should have come home sooner, but my stubbornness kept me on campus in hopes of finding out a way to get back to Mags.

After dinner, I helped Dad clear the table while Mama and Marc sat in the living room discussing God knows what. "So..." Dad cleared his throat. "Is Marc your..?"

"Friend." I answered firmly. "You really think I'm in the mindset for dating with everything that's happened?"

Dad nodded as he loaded out plates into the dishwasher. "I assumed as much, just wanted to know if I'd be setting up the couch bed for the weekend." We were quiet for a moment before he sighed and added, "You've been searching, I take it?"

I chewed the inside of my cheek and nodded, sitting down at the table. "Of course. I'm tapped into every police scanner in a 200 mile radius." Obviously I couldn't explain to him why I'd stopped listening to them, why looking for Maggie the conventional way was useless. He'd for sure send me to a psychiatrist.

Dad sat across from me, his eyes shimmering with the start of tears. "I've been on the phone with Jackie and Adam, they're a wreck. Your mom and I are too. Maggie's been family since you first brought her over to play in kindergarten." He reached a hand across the table and placed it on mine, squeezing gently. "But they're gonna bring her home— the police. I have faith."

I fought back tears of my own and tried to smile reassuringly. If anyone was going to bring Mags home, it would be me. I was her only chance at rescue. I just had to figure out how to make that door appear again.

Marc and my mom entered the kitchen, laughing like best friends with a secret. Marc had my cat Swoofy in his arms. "Elle," he said, grinning, "Trisha showed me your musical performance!"

I frowned. "My what now?"

Mama laughed, "Marcellus said he was a theatre major, so I told him about the time you got roped into your middle school's performance of Grease!"

Suppressed memories of leather jackets and bad "Grease Lightening" dancing rushed to the surface and I dropped my face into my hands. "Oh my god, Mama, why do you actually hate me?"

"I need to get myself a pair of those 'sunglasses.' They are rather chic," Marc mused.

"Oh, Trevor has several," Mama exclaimed. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind you snagging a pair."

Dad waved a hand, "knock yourselves out."

Marc thanked him and headed back into the living room. Before following Mama smiled at me and whispered "I really like him."

"You can keep him," I muttered back. But under my hands, I smiled.