Mizrelle was pissed as hell. And it suited Sam just fine. It manifested in ignoring them pointedly and refusing to give them any assignment that put them out on the street. The only bad part was that them didn't include Angie as well.

As if wanting to test her, Mizrelle kept sending Angie out to do the most absurd and dangerous tasks, even try to briefly infiltrate a rivaling faction. What the head of Paris didn't know was that Angie was used to dealing with stuff a whole lot more difficult. The ease with which she completed her tasks had Sam almost laughing, especially because it visibly aggravated Mizrelle.

He knew it was petty and in the long run an unhappy Mizrelle was a useless Mizrelle, but he couldn't help the joy he got from Angie owning her. And the best part was that, even if out on the street, Angie was as safe as she could be. Snitch Gravel's more competent men must've fled Paris with Christine, so if any were left behind, the chances that they wouldn't recognize Angie were high.

So he was more than satisfied to sit around and read the books on French history Angie kept bringing back for him, trying to find mentions of a giant jewel.

Tom on the other hand was like a lion trapped in a cage. He resented Mizrelle's decisions and constantly raged against her in private, though he wisely kept to himself while in front of other people. He also left the room for long periods of time, making friends with the other street thugs.

The little time he did spend inside their room, he dedicated to pummeling a punching bag he'd brought in from somewhere or doing other physically draining activity. Even now, as Sam laid on his bed, reading, Tom kept doing push-ups with one hand. Which was very distracting and annoying since Sam could barely do them properly with two hands.

"This sucks," Tom spat, finally getting off the floor.

"Is that so, Tommy?" Mizrelle had stopped in the threshold, watching him with sick satisfaction.

"Very much so," he mumbled. "I'm not an inside guy. I want out."

"You just want to keep track of your girlfriend."

"Not even that. I'm just suffocating in here." He took his wet t-shirt off and started searching inside the wooden box they used as a dresser.

For the fraction of a second, Sam was sure Mizrelle would start drooling on the floor, but then, her lustful expression turned into one of shock and horror.

"Tommy, your back..."

The little light coming from the bulb in their room shone eerily off the scars on Tom's back. Sam had gotten used to seeing them by now, and he actually felt better because he'd noticed them fading over time. Jerry had spent weeks after they returned from the labs nursing his twin's back, and apparently all those lotions had helped a little. Sam doubted the scars would ever fade, but maybe Tom would get to go to the beach without gathering horrified stares.

"What happened?" Mizrelle whispered.

Tom threw her an unimpressed glance. "I fell in the tub."

Sure. If the tub was filled with sharks, or nails, or shards of glass. Tom's refusal to share what had happened turned the shock on Mizrelle's face into sadness and Sam's heart tightened for a second. She really did care about him in her own, twisted way.

They stood in awkward silence as Tom pulled a dusty grey t-shirt on, covering their conversation topic.

"I have a guy who could put awesome ink over those, if you're interested," she finally said, a hopeful note in her voice.

"Great. Prison tattoos. What I've always wanted," he answered with fake enthusiasm.

Mizrelle actually cringed and Sam tried not to feel too sorry for her, but pissed Tom was a little scary. His cloudy expression suddenly vanished as he looked past Mizrelle and towards the door. Sam followed his gaze to see Angie there, and his entire world brightened.

Because under Angie's arms was something he desperately needed and never thought he'd see again. A giant phone book.

"Gimme!" he shouted and reached out his hands.

Angie laughed and tossed the book at him before turning her attention back to Tom. "What's up?"

"What did you bring the tome for?" Tom asked instead.

"Sam asked for it," she answered with a shrug.

"Back already?" Mizrelle interjected, her tone sickly sweet.

"Yeah," Angie answered with admirable nonchalance. "Needed a bit of a break. But I'll be heading out in a few hours."

Sam saw Mizrelle seething, wishing she could tell Angie that she didn't get to do what she wanted when she wanted it, but with Tom there, getting into a fight would be more than she could handle.

"Then go rest," she said to Angie, the words coming out distorted through clenched teeth.

Angie threw them a glance, and once Tom nodded his approval, she went in for a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and she was gone. Sam pursed his lips, wondering if he should've let her in on the plan, but it was better for him and Tom to do it alone, at least at the start.

Mizrelle didn't comment either and strutted out, finally leaving them alone.

"What's with the old phone book?" Tom asked the moment Mizrelle's leather coattail was out the door.

"I've been thinking how to get out of here and I think I finally have a solution." Sam opened the book down the middle, looking for the entries under G. "Grandmaman."

Tom lifted his sunglasses on top of his head, his eyes wide and filled with hope. "Yeah, great idea. Do you know where she lives?"

"Not exactly. I've never been there, but I know I've seen her address on envelopes back when she was sending letters, so I'm sure I'll recognize it."

"That's a great idea!"

Sam jumped and turned to the door to see Angie there, a big smile on her face. She immediately returned to Tom's arms, but her eyes were on Sam.

"I thought you might want something like that when you asked me for the book," she continued. "I also have this for you." She tossed a wad of rolled up bills to him.

"How'd you get this?" Tom asked, the shock in his voice reflecting exactly how Sam felt.

Angie scoffed. "Do you think it's hard for me to do Mizrelle's crap? I spied on Snitch Gravel for crying out loud. I used the extra time to do more lucrative things."

Sam wanted to ask what, but the sudden darkness falling over his twin's face drew his attention.

"What exactly?" he asked, his tone deadly.

"Stripping, what else?" Angie answered with an eye roll. "Honestly Tom, wipe that crazy look of your face. You can be such an idiot sometimes." She turned to Sam, but the annoyance was still there. "I've been singing in subway stations."

Sam looked from her, to the money, then back to her. "And you made this much?"

"That's because she's amazing," Tom said, though there was still an edge to his voice. "A little dangerous, don't you think, babe?"

"Not as dangerous as doing it out in the open. I doubt whatever goons Snitch Gravel left stationed in Paris are using public transportation." She yawned, covering her mouth with one hand. "Anyway, where are we going?"

"Haven't found her yet," Sam answered carefully. Angie did look exhausted and he really didn't want to be the one to point it out.

Fortunately, Tom picked up on it and subjected himself to her wrath. "I think you really should go rest. Didn't you say you had to head out soon?"

"I am heading out, but not for Mozzarella. I secured a gig at one of the malls. I think the money I could get for that would insure our way out."

"That's amazing," Sam said before Tom could stupidly protest and blow it.

"Isn't it?" her smile showed how tired she was even more than the yawn.

"It is. And I think it would be even more amazing if we joined you," Tom said unexpectedly coming up with a genius idea.

Well, not genius for Sam to join them, but he had an inkling Tom was really good at singing too, what with his voice imitation abilities.

"Great idea. So we can all go after we're done at your grandma's place."

"You should rest," Tom said before Sam could open his mouth to say the exact same thing. "At least for a couple of hours. We'll probably be there longer and you can meet us there."

Angie bit her lower lip, obviously torn between the need to power nap and be part of the adventure. Finally, she sighed and nodded. Sam returned to searching in the telephone book, leaving Angie and Tom to whatever silent exchange or goodbye they were sharing.

It didn't take him long to find his grandmother's address. Garmont wasn't a very popular name in Paris and it was easy to recognize the words he'd seen on multiple envelopes as a kid. With his new Paris knowledge, he could even tell it wasn't very far from one of the exits from the Underworld.

"Find it?" Tom asked, dropping next to him on the bed.

Sam just nodded and grabbed a piece of paper to write the address down for Angie, then tore the page out of the phone book for themselves. As he and Tom rushed out of the tunnels, he couldn't help but feel a knot in his throat. An unnatural one. This was his grandmother, the one he actually liked. Why was he so nervous about going to her house?

Probably because he was doing it uninvited and looking like a street thug. At least Tom had shaved, too, though he hadn't cut his hair and the tips were starting to curl around his ears. But once they reached the front door of her apartment building, the unease turned into dread.

"This the place?" Tom asked, eyeing the chipped blue door and the white, weather-washed walls.

"I... I think so. She should be in apartment four." And the button for the intercom was right there, yet he wasn't pushing it.

Tom scoffed and pressed the button. A shrill ring filled the empty street, making Sam jump. The lack of Tom's snigger showed he was nervous as well. And suddenly, they were right back home before their exam, before the girls were kidnapped, before things went crazy.

"Oui," came a voice from inside the intercom.

This time Tom flinched, too. The knot in Sam's throat was back with a vengeance, trapping in any potential answer. Tom nudged him a little harder than necessary.

"Um, Grandmaman? It's Sam. Grant," he added after a pause and immediately felt like an idiot. But Sophie, if it even was Sophie on the other end, wasn't saying anything, so he felt like more of an idiot when he added. "Your grandson."

The buzzer went off, and a click indicated the door had been unlocked. Tom immediately pulled it open and Sam joined him inside a very narrow hall. The right hand wall was filled with metal mailboxes and a twisting staircase led to the upper floors. The two started climbing and stopped on the first landing where a light blue door bore a silver number four.

Sam raised his fist, but before he could knock, there was a click from inside and the door opened an inch. Over a fragile chain, a light blue eye peeked at them. The door opened wide and right there, in all her glory, stood Sophie Gramont, mother of Maximilliane Grant.

She wore faded blue jeans and an over-sized sweater and Sam was shocked by how much his grandmother resembled their mother. Or the other way around. He'd never noticed as a kid. It was true that he hadn't seen Sophie in maybe five years. Her stare was unnerving nonetheless as her eyes shifted from him to Tom.

"I just..." Her accent wasn't as thick as Sam remembered. Or maybe he'd been around french people for too long. She pulled out of the doorway, holding it wide open for them. "I wasn't expecting you here unannounced."

That was an understatement. Sam and Tom both entered the narrow hallway and Sophie closed the door after them and locked it. She waved her hand, indicating they should leave their jackets in the massive coat hanger that took up half of the hallway. They complied, and Sam felt even more out of place, dressed as he was in his shabby, baggy jeans and dusty hoodie.

Without a word, Sophie disappeared in a room to their left. Sam followed and ended up in the kitchen. It looked just as cramped as the rest of the building and apartment. Sophie indicated the booth that took up the right corner of the room, right next to the door.

Sam and Tom both slid on the bench and watched their grandmother pick up a kettle and head for the stove in the opposite corner of the room. It was one of those stove and oven built into one appliance things that was probably older than them. Now that he stopped to think about it, the buzzing refrigerator and freezer that took up the rest of the right wall were about the same age.

Sophie said nothing as she boiled water for what Sam hoped was tea rather than coffee. Tom was looking around from refrigerator, to sink, to lime green cabinets, but his face was hard to read. What could he be thinking? Because Sam couldn't get over the weirdness of the situation. And not the fact that he'd randomly barged into his grandmother's house halfway around the world, but that she lived like this.

He knew from Kyle that Max was loaded. Hell, they were loaded. And yet his grandmother lived in a tiny apartment with rusting appliances. It made him want to scream for some reason. His other grandmother lived like a queen by comparison, her townhouse lush and welcoming. This wasn't fair.

Before he could go further down that dark path of thoughts, Sophie turned to them and placed two mugs of steaming tea in front of them. She then pulled out a backless chair from under the table and sat down with her own cup which seemed to be filled with coffee.

"As much as I enjoy the visit and your awkward silence," she started, her tone even and calculated, "I have to ask. What are you doing here?"

❄❄❄

Here we are, back in business. I actually managed to get some writing done. So I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Fingers crossed the next part comes out on time.

So... what are your feelings about Mizrelle and her punishment? Is this it? Will she give up on any other ideas and actually let them go? At least they have money now. Sort of... Curtsy of Angie.

And who missed Sophie? Who remembers Sophie actually? It's been such a long time.

Thanks for reading. Now vote and comment for me.