The winds of a delicate escape beat across her face as her mother's old roller skates swept her through Culver Village Square. The hotel's trolley had taken her right to the center of their little city within a city. It was odd to those who lived outside of Los Angeles to picture the quaint but oppressively congested neighborhoods that filled it. Culver Hills was one of the towns on the Westside of Los Angeles that had hills rather than a beach inside its borders. But it had a lot of things to make up for that. A Whole Foods and a Trader Joe's, a Barnes and Noble, and a lot of really good places to eat. Culver Hills did not have a trolley of its own run by the city like a few of the neighboring towns did. It was the Foxworthy Hotel that ran it. And with it in such bad shape, she did not know how much longer that would be.

She waved to the old man who stood outside his antique store like he did everyday. He grudgingly have her a smile and a wave and went back to polishing a bronze looking statue he had on display just outside the front of his store. She loved people trusted each other that much to keep their items on display outside. She also loved how seriously her neighborhood took the holidays. Sprinklings of them were everywhere. Mainly Christmas, but touches of Hanukah and the Solstice hung from several shops.

She saw a man step outside of a small restaurant to put out the chalk board stand with its daily specials. Tuna melt. Cheery and walnut salad. Bacon and chive cheddar soup. 

Her stomach grumbled. She'd forgotten to eat in her haste to leave the hotel. Such a circumstance landed her in front of the hostess station of one of her favorite places to eat outside of the hotel. It was just as well. She didn't always have to be at the Foxworthy, did she?  She decided to stop and satisfy her hunger. She sat on a nearby bench, removed her skates and took out a pair of chocolate brown loafers from the backpack she was carrying. After switching her shoes, she slung the skates over her shoulder and headed to the restaurant. 

"Welcome to Cake 'n' Honey. My name's Max. How may I help you?" a teenage boy said in a bored tone as she approached the counter. New kid. She read his nametag to make sure she remembered him next time. She and Lana prided themselves on knowing all of the staff. Like taking the bus, having a place to go outside of the Foxworthy certainly created a space for independence.  

Max Sepulveda was the new boy's full name. She locked it in tightly to her memory. She was actually good at remembering names. She liked the way they always seemed to fit with people's faces. With the exception of that kid, Pythian. That name didn't fit with anyone's face. Though if it needed an owner, she supposed that the odd boy was the best candidate. She couldn't believe she'd forgotten about him in the excitement of the past few days. He was probably the key to all this strangeness. She wouldn't be surprised if he knew where the lost heir was. She pushed the image of the boy's face from her mind and returned her focus to Max, noticing the half-eaten triple-chocolate brownie he'd tucked behind the register. A rule-breaker. Very good to know.

"May I have the back table?"

"Yeah, sure." The lanky caramel-skin-toned boy led her to a table tucked in the corner of the shop. As he handed her the menu she already had memorized, his shirt-sleeve lifted, and she spotted the edge of a tattoo on his bicep. Not surprising for a teenager, but a little uncharacteristic of a worker at Cake n' Honey. "Your server will be right with you." Max cat-yawned. He was probably a partier. Out all night.

She ordered tea and a plum bun, and then took out her journal and scribbled ferociously:

Musetta-

I know Jack Heel is the lost heir and that he's alive. Getting into Brightwood is going to be like trying to get into Fort Knox.

Just as she took a bite into her second plum bun, her telephone jingled a ringtone she knew all too well. "Isabella! It's just 9 o'clock in the morning. Where are you?"

"Um, sorry."

"If you're out of the hotel, please come back immediately. Have you forgotten what day it is?" her grandmother said.

"December 20th, of course." How did it get to be December 20th? That was an extremely special day at the Foxworthy. She must have really been in a trance not to notice the staff running amok before she left. "I have to take some holiday school work to...a new girl in class," she said, knowing her grandmother would not believe it if she mentioned any girl's she already knew besides Lana, who was clearly not in town. "She lives just up the road. Really nice girl. I'll be back in about an hour."

"No more than thirty minutes," she said then the phone went dead. There would be no arguing with her grandmother. Her tone was sharp, and she sounded tired. Not a good combination.

She left the correct amount along with a healthy tip for the server and then tucked away her journal. "Good-bye, Max," she said, startling the snoozing boy on her way out.

"Oh, see ya."

She laughed. He was kind of cute, but she had no time for boys. She'd go back to the hotel for a little while then figure out a way to escape. She still had to see if she could find the mysterious man and figure out if he was Jack Heel or more importantly, the lost heir. She didn't have much time, but she had to at least try. Her skates got her to Brightwood quickly. She knew it was probably a good idea to take them off again before approaching the over-sized security guard at Brightwood's gate, but she really didn't have time.

There was a car pulling inside. It was black and sleek and had an old man inside. She thought it might be her Uncle Robert, which wouldn't make much sense since she didn't think he'd been on the Brightwood lot for years. Not that she really knew what her Uncle Robert or any of the adults she knew did when she was not around. The man was let through the gate. "Thanks, kid," the smooth voice said. That certainly wasn't Robert. Once the car, disappeared inside, Isabella skated up to the security guard.

"Hi," she said, but the security guard had dipped back into his guardhouse. She knocked on the plastic window that separated her from his face. He whipped it open.

"Can I help ya?" A large red-haired man lifted thick glasses to look down at her.

"I was wondering if I could get a pass onto the lot. I need to find someone?" She knew they needed passes because she'd tried it before.

"Were ya invited?" He asked brows drawn in, rolling his jaw as he mashed what she assumed as a wad of gum in his back teeth.

"Not exactly," she answered.

"Sorry, can't help ya, kid," said the guard.

"Please?"

He looked down his glasses at her. "Haven't ya been here before?"

Isabella shrugged a shoulder. "Yes, a while ago with my friend. We wanted to go on a tour, but you told us we had to get clearance or something."

"Look kid, I'm not allowed to let just anyone in here. People are working. I know ya want ta try and catch a glimpse of Taylor Lautner or whoevah, but, rules are rules."

"I'm not trying to see movie stars, although that would be a good side bonus-"

"Goodbye, kid," he said.

"No! I was just kidding, please," she sputtered. "I'm looking for a Jack Heel," she said.

Instead of answering, the guard closed the window again and started playing on his iPad, laughing at whatever was on his screen. He ignored her until she finally gave up, thinking that she'd come back later. The guards usually shifted after a certain time, right? She sighed, there was no use. She'd never get inside. "But you have to try."

When she stepped inside the hotel, jubilant pandemonium had unfolded. "It's December 20th Rolf cried. "Let's tree-trim, people!" Wreaths, garland, and red-and-gold bows were tossed about; to and fro. Beads and mistletoe, candelabras and Santas, shimmering gift boxes with perfect little bows; they all decorated the hotel, bringing the holiday to life.

"I wish those presents weren't empty," Micah said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his robe.

"Put some clothes on." Isabella touched her necklace. It was warm in her hand. She could tell Micah was a bit embarrassed after what she had said, but she only felt the buzz of his anxiety, rather than the usual onslaught she might feel otherwise. She could get used to this.

"Nah, I gotta go fix my mom's butlerbot. I work better in my flannels."

"Your mom has a butlerbot? Nano could just arrange housekeeping for you guys. Those things don't work, do they?"

"They're limited, as my dad would say, but she likes the novelty," he said, heading back upstairs.

Isabella folded her arms tightly across her chest. She wanted to help, but she had things to do. Why was all of her time always scheduled? Before she had a chance to let out the petulant yelp of frustration brewing in her chest, Seth appeared, wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants. Those were probably his pajamas too, but at least they were a lot less obvious than Micah's lazy ensemble.

"What's going on?"

"My grandmother makes us wait until the 20th to trim our tree. All the other hotels have theirs shiny with gold bows and silver crap by Thanksgiving."

"I was wondering why the tree was naked," said Seth.

Isabella blushed at his choice of words. Words like that shouldn't bother her any more, but they did.

"Take a box!" Elyse shoved one at Seth.

"Sure, but why is there so much purple? It's Christmas."

Elyse buzzed away, waving her hand over her shoulder, much too busy to answer his question.

"If you must know, the violet flowers were my great-grandmother's favorite."

"Renee?" asked Seth.

Shocked that he'd remembered great-grandmother's name that quickly, she continued. "Yes. Renee. Anyway, since it was her hotel, we keep the tradition. Actually," Isabella said, letting her earlier frustrations drop away, "we also bring out the-Here they come." Male staff members carted violet Victorian sofas into the room as the old blue sofas were taken out. In the midst of all this activity, the Antonelli twins appeared. Xander's eyes swept across the room as if devouring a feast, but Cleo surveyed the scene with slightly hooded eyes. She liked decorations, Isabella was sure, but the labor involved in helping hang said decorations was absolutely not her cup of tea.

"Why don't you just leave the purple sofas out all year?" Seth asked, pointing to the one being placed facing the tree.

"Violet," Isabella muttered as her mind stuck on the word that had recently been showing up randomly. There was the man with the violet in his hair, the man she thought could be Jack, and the Violet Fire. Theophilus said they were taking care of it, but before he acted as if she were a part of it. Not to mention the fact that they said something about it turning her to darkness if it went out. And the way to stop that was to open the vault with the heir. But no one seemed to be looking for the heir. She could not take this anymore. She had to know what was going on. She had to know more about this Empath Society. The problem was that simultaneously, she wanted nothing to do with it. It petrified her from the tips of her toes to the top of her wily head of hair.

"Are you performing tonight?" asked Cleo, bringing Isabella back from her mental game of ping-pong to see Cleo looking directly at Seth. Cleo's hand was on her hip, brows raised expectantly.

"Yeah," said Seth, stuffing his fingers into his pocket and shrugging.

"I want to hear you play," Cleo piped up.

"It's just old-people stuff," said Seth, not really paying attention to her.

"I'm sure you're great," said Cleo, her lashes batting faster than they normally did. "Logan Blues is a great name."

Seth shrugged. "Yeah, I love playing, but the band's my mom's thing." He paused. "But you can hear me any time. What you should really be trying to get at is Isabella's singing. After two rehearsals, I still haven't heard it. Guess she's shy," he teased.

Isabella did not like his tone. "I am not. I just don't like to unless there's a reason."

"Oh, one like rehearsal?" he quipped.

"Just your mom's idea?" Cleo asked, changing the subject back to Seth, and touching his arm.

Seth looked from Isabella to Cleo, then to the box in his hand. His eyes went wide, as if he'd forgotten to do the most enjoyable and exciting thing in the world. "I gotta go," he said then left them standing there.

Isabella laughed.

"What's so funny?" Cleo demanded.

"It's usually me chasing boys away," said Isabella.

"That's because you're so bossy," Cleo snapped.

Isabella lifted an eyebrow. "Like you're not?"

"Whatever, Isabella." Cleo sighed heavily, but did not walk away like Isabella expected her to.

The holiday music kicked up. As much as the atmospheric cheer titillated her senses, she couldn't stand the idea of being forced to stay inside for no good reason.

"I gotta go do something," Isabella said, when Xander returned with a chocolate-covered reindeer.

"Where did you get that?" Cleo asked brightly. Apparently, she loved chocolate-covered reindeer.

Xander broke it in half and deposited it into his sister's hand without a second thought. "Sorry, Izzy. Want some of mine?"

"No. I'm gonna do some work then try to see if I can get to a certain place before it closes," Isabella said, eyes combing the room, trying to decide on the easiest but most obvious task. Maybe helping hang the Night at Holiday Hall framings. No bells and bows with Elyse. That might be easier.

"Oh, where ya goin'?" Xander asked.

"Brightwood Studios," she muttered, not realizing what she'd said before she could take it back. Xander stared at her wide-eyed. Oh, no. Please, no.

"What? Really? I have to come!" Xander beamed. Of course, he did. Anything to do with movies had Xander Antonelli parked front and center.

"I don't know if I can get in. I thought you wanted to stay here and help decorate all day. They're having cookie party after."

Xander did not stutter. "Are you kidding me? As much as I love Christmas and cookies--God do I love cookies--but, you're talking movie studio. But wait a minute. They don't give tours at Brightwood."

"Exactly," Isabella said with a sigh. "And I really need to talk with someone on the lot. I just don't have his number or e-mail or anything." Or where he works, or if he's even really there or just a figment of her imagination.

"Not much of a social networker, Isabella?" Cleo asked dryly, licking the last of the chocolate off her fingertips.

"This guy probably doesn't even have a computer."

A small smile played across Cleo's lips. "Guy? What guy?"

"Obviously, he must be some weirdo. Who doesn't have a computer or a tablet or something?" asked Micah, materializing from where, she did not know.

"No one," said Cleo.

"I thought you were fixing your mom's robot maid," said Isabella.

"Butlerbot. Finished it and got bored."

"And showered and dressed? It's been fifteen minutes, tops," Isabella said, shocked a second time at how fast the Logan boys did things at times.

"Yeah," said Micah, sounding not at all surprised by her shock. "So what's going on? Where are we going?"

Oh, perfect. "I didn't say anything about any we."

"Aw, come on, Izzy," said Xander. "I really want to come with you. Even if we don't get in."

"Get in where?" asked Seth, holding a sprig of mistletoe and wiping the tip of his nose as a bead of sweat fell down it.

"We're going to Brightwood Studios," said Cleo. "Wanna come?"

Isabella rolled her eyes. Why don't you skywrite it above the hotel that you're in love with him and get it over with? "I thought I was going alone, but-"

"But you don't talk to Johnna Johnson, whose father just happens to be one of the top guys there," Cleo put in.

"Oh, right," Isabella had tried to forget that annoying fact. "Do you think she can get me in?"

"If she begs her father, no. But if I call her mother, who happens to love me, and I drop your name, Izzy, I think we might get in. I mean, you are a Foxworthy."

"That's a load of bunk," said Isabella. "They don't care about that. Lana and I tried to go once, and earlier today--"

"Did you tell them your name?" asked Cleo.

Isabella tried to think of something clever to say in response but couldn't. "No. I don't like doing that, and besides, I didn't get that far," Isabella truthfully explained.

Cleo looked exasperated. "You are really weird sometimes, you know? You're a Foxworthy."

Isabella rolled her eyes. This was getting old.

Cleo went on, "Okay. Have you tried asking your Grandmother to get you in for a tour or a visit?"

Isabella folded her arms and refused to answer. She was beginning to notice that Cleo had this irritating way of being right.

"Maybe Izzy's right," said Seth. "It sounds kinda hard to get in."

Isabella's ego inflated a bit. Mainly because she knew Seth siding with her might irritate Cleo.

"Yes, but there are always exceptions." Apparently, it did not.

"Look, I want to do this myself. I don't need company or help."

"Oh, come, Isabella, let us come," said Micah.

"I think you should leave her alone," Seth argued at his brother.

"I admit it, I want to go to Brightwood," said Xander.

"Maybe if you all shut up, I can make that happen," said Cleo.

Blood pumped in Isabella's ears. The energy around them seemed thick, tense, too much as they continued to bicker amongst each other. The bustle of the staff in the lobby continued. Isabella caught Elyse's eyes in the distance as she hung some garland. Elyse beckoned her to join her. She spotted her grandmother out of the corner of her eye, giving her a stern look before turning back to direct Constantine and Nico who were on side-by-side ladders changing a tapestry. The kids continued to bicker.

"I don't think Isabella wants us there," Seth was saying to the other three kids, when the heat in the room thickened further.

"STOP IT!" she shrieked. She looked up and noticed the entire staff seemed to freeze in place. She shook her head again and looked once more. They had not moved. In fact, everyone in the lobby had frozen except Isabella, Seth, Micah, Cleo and Xander. "You guys..." Her breath quickened and her tongue tied. They did not seem to notice anything but themselves. Finally, Cleo followed Isabella's gave, but by then all had returned to normal. "Did you see that?" Isabella asked Cleo.

"See what?"

"The people weren't moving," she said.

Cleo looked at her strangely. "Maybe you need to rest."

"I wish people would stop saying that." Seth looked at her concerned. Micah joined him. Xander was next. "Please! I'm fine. It was nothing." They didn't seem to believe her. What had they been talking about before? Brightwood. The visit. She would have to let them come to get their mind off her impending insanity. "My grandmother would not approve of me going to Brightwood." At least not now. "So don't say anything to her about us going okay?"

"Yes!" Xander pumped his arm once.

Seth shrugged. "Awesome. You sure, you're fine with us coming?"

"Yeah," she said, giving him a small smile. She liked when people surprised her.

"Good. You probably shouldn't go alone anyway," said Seth.

"It's broad daylight, Seth."

He shrugged. Micah shook his head. "He's like that with everyone." Isabella slightly deflated at the comment. So she wasn't special to him? Not that it mattered to her in the slightest.

Cleo clapped her hands together. "Perfect. I've got a plan that will work, okay? Johnna's mom is a first-class social climber. She'll insist that her husband get us some passes."

"In case you guys didn't know, I love my sister," said Xander, kissing her cheek. "I'm going to get my camera. Be right back."

"So, let's do this thing," said Seth.

"Yes, let's," Isabella said finally. Going with them wouldn't be so bad, especially if they got her in easily, and especially if they provided the proper diversion. "Just remember. Don't tell my grandmother. And don't invite Johnna! She'll blab. And I want to keep this a secret for my own reasons, okay?"

Cleo looked at her out of the corner of her eye, but didn't probe for an answer. "Okay, I'll think of something. Just give me a second." She walked off, phone pressed to ear, her free arm waving as she spoke animatedly with Mrs. Johnson. When she returned, she had a satisfied look on her face. "All set. Gonna go get changed quickly."

"What? Can't you wear what you've got on? I want to go now."

"We still have to wait 'til Xander gets back."

"Yeah. I gotta get cleaned up too. Meet you back here in five," Seth said, jogging toward the elevator. She noticed he still had that mistletoe with him.

"Be back in a few," said Cleo.

This was becoming a circus. Though she was grateful for Cleo's help, all that was on her mind was slipping in and out without any of the adults catching her, especially her grandmother. That...and finding Jack Heel. First, she'd help with a few decorations. After all, it was tradition.