Cairo pushed through the door to the security camera room, where he knew his sister Havana would be waiting—although none of them called her that.

"HQ," he said, and she turned idly in her chair, no care in the world. She pulled off the headphones corded to her portable radio player, sliding them around her neck.

She appeared curious but not surprised at his presence. She saw everything—HQ rarely left this room, her eyes never deviating from their pattern of darting back and forth between the monitors. It was highly likely she had watched him come in and perhaps even anticipated this very visit. "Welcome home," she told him in removed greeting, like this was simply another day and he was returning from an errand, like he'd never left. It was a breath of fresh air compared to Tokyo's reaction, at least.

"I need to see the security footage from three days ago."

She gestured to the unused chair across the room and allowed him to drag it over beside her. She watched him sit before nodding to his new eye patch.

"Does this mean you're a regular plebe like me now?"

Cairo laughed humorlessly. "You act like it was the only quirk I had."

"As good as," she replied with nothing insulting in her tone, though he still felt the sting. "I barely recall you using the others."

He elected to switch the subject as she pulled up the playback of Sunday morning on one of the screens directly in front of them. "Did you see anyone suspicious coming in that day?"

"People tend to come here when they don't want to be found, Cairo. Suspicious figures are hardly an uncommon occurrence."

"I know, I know." That would serve to make his job harder. He had to weed out the spy the guardsmen had spoken of, as it was likely he hadn't yet left. Father had mentioned the captain but no one else, and it made Cairo wonder whether he was actually aware of the informant planted in the hotel, or if he was keeping talk of the Unlawful to a minimum on suspicions alone. He imagined the latter was likely. Mr. Quimby wasn't fond of admitting he didn't know things.

Cairo skimmed the feed as HQ sped through it, sighing when he realized he couldn't differentiate one shady scrub from another. "Just show me the new check-ins," he conceded finally.

HQ lifted an eyebrow. "All of them?"

"I don't have a better idea," he admitted sourly.

She zoomed in on an overlarge bearded man in a long leather coat. "This one checked in with what Tokyo said was almost certainly false identification," she said. "And he paid all in cash, but it was real."

Cairo squinted at the fuzzy image. "Yeah, what else is new?" Everything was so pixelated it was difficult to determine specific facial features, only articles of clothing and those distinct traits that were prominent enough to stand out. Either way, this man was almost certainly not the spy. A guardsman posing as a customer would be too stupid to think to present himself like a gang member; it was more likely that he would be among their better-dressed clientele. Besides, as far as Cairo knew, guardsmen tended to be thin and lean.

"If you're looking for someone specific, we might need Vienna's snapshot memory," HQ suggested, and Cairo looked at her sharply.

"What makes you think she would want to help me?"

She shrugged. "Vienna will do anything for a good bribe. Come up with something."

He grunted. "Only if I have no other choice."

They went through the footage for the day, HQ's fingers sliding smoothly across the controls as Cairo did his best to memorize every grayish, blurry face. There seemed to be so many more customers than Cairo remembered; magic and non-magic users alike had flowed in through the front doors on Sunday as if this was a churchhouse, a safe haven. Many hid their identities or cloaked themselves in shadow, shooting Tokyo elusive smiles at the front desk as they silently paid for their rooms, and with the sheer influx of them Cairo hadn't the slightest clue how he would pinpoint just one as a Court spy.

This had just gotten a whole lot harder.

The door swung open and a small girl came in, making Cairo do a double take when he turned. It took several moments of staring strangely at her, mind searching frantically to puzzle for an answer, before he finally recognized her. Antalya was much older; she'd been a toddler when he left. Four or so. Old enough to recall his face, certainly, but not old enough to harbor any feelings toward him now except for whatever the rest of the family had planted in her head.

"H, what's taking you so long? Mother told me to come fetch you for dinner." She shifted her attention to Cairo, her features morphing into disgust. "What is he doing here?"

Ah, wonderful. They had told her nothing good.

"Play nice, Taly," said HQ lightly, blond ponytail swishing as she swiftly restored all the monitors to their normal state and rose, patting Antalya on the head on her way out. Taly ducked, squawking in protest, and shot Cairo one last nasty look before she followed suit. Cairo's lip curled. Did everyone have to act like they hated him?

Leaving hadn't been an easy decision. He'd had no choice. He couldn't expect most of his siblings to understand, but outright spite felt like overkill.

Was his timing poor? Maybe. The hotel had been struggling, and having one less employee certainly wouldn't have done anything to help their dismal financial situation. But it was fine now. He'd seen the place. Business was booming, customers were pouring in like autumn rain. The only unsuccessful member of the family, it seemed, was himself.

And it had long been too late to turn back and mend everything again.

Cairo cast a narrowed glance at the young security guard who entered to take over for HQ as he passed by, suspicious of anyone new. Nothing out of the ordinary, but he wasn't going to trust anyone here he didn't know regardless. The boy was wearing the same black-and-white uniform as his sister, and it wasn't any surprise that kids around his own age were being hired here—his parents loved opportunities to provide for children in any way they could, and that had always extended to their hotel. Disparaged homeless teens and jobless young people, sometimes with their younger siblings or other dependents, came and went. The Quimby Hotel often offered them free rooms, extra complimentary meals, and employment opportunities. It was Cairo's mother in particular that had a soft spot for wayward children, with Richard typically content to oblige.

He suspected that they had an... addiction of sorts, when it came to children of their own. Like their worth depended on their duties as parents; as if they feared that the moment any of their wards grew up they would suddenly disappear, leaving them with an empty home and emptier hearts. This had to be the case—there was no other rationalization for the way they stuffed the family with son after daughter. Many of the Quimby siblings weren't even remotely related, and in fact, the only one with whom Cairo shared both a mother and a father was Shanghai, who had been his roommate for the duration of his childhood. Some of the children were adopted from tragic circumstances, having unknowingly wandered into the Quimbys' line of sight and succeedingly agreeing to take on a new name in exchange for a bizarre, albeit undeniably loving, new home.

Had Cairo been capable of giving advice at the time, he probably would have been wise to tell Havana, and later Berlin, to give the opportunity a hard pass—however wonderful Richard and Hattie may have been at parenting, his siblings made up for it by being completely and utterly nightmarish.

They had both become quite ruthless quite quickly. It was a learned skill in the Quimby family. One had to be equipped to fend off unsettlingly dangerous pranks, unrelenting teasing, and constant competition they orchestrated amongst themselves. Although their parents had never specifically put pressure on any of them to race one another for their approval, somehow the children had developed it all on their own. There was always a need to prove one's worth, and there were unspoken barriers between all of them that inclined some to be pitted against each other. Now that Cairo had spent some time away from everyone, he had come to realize that this never really had much to do with expectations set by his parents, as he'd previously assumed, but the nature of their family's dynamics and the fact that the siblings were always looking for reasons to fight.

Shanghai and Cairo were Hattie's sons by another man, and he could sense that some of his half-siblings felt at least a vague inkling of resentment. Rome, the oldest and Richard's only child by his first wife, was similar in this way. Worst of all were the various inclinations for magic. HQ and Berlin had gotten very creative when it came to playing competitive—and, because the Quimbys couldn't do anything normally to save their lives, often deadly—games, without the advantage of being In-Between. As someone who was stuck in the unfortunate pickle of having quirks but being terrible at making good use of them, Cairo had learned to be very efficient at losing. There came a point when he couldn't bring himself to care anymore about his siblings' stupid antics, when it was worth the mental taxation no longer.

He was left unsure, even today, whether he was better off for the Quimby Hotel. Regardless, it had made him the man he was, and even after leaving behind its massive double doors, the things he'd learned from the constantly unpredictable behavior of his brothers and sisters still influenced his decisions and reactions to threats that came his way. This truth remained despite the fact that few of them would approve of who he'd become while fighting to live for five years of aimless, violent wandering.

An irritating, stubborn voice at the back of his mind continued to ask him, What are you compensating for?

Cairo shook off the thought as he found the fourth floor dining room. Along with holding his father's office, this was the floor that had been dedicated to their family, with private rooms for Berlin and Rome, Shanghai and Cairo, Havana and Vienna, and Tokyo and Antalya respectively. For years they had sat together day after day for meals, as their mother would not have it if anyone wanted to skip dedicated time for a family dinner. In such a busy household, on some days this might be the only quiet downtime they all had to spend together. Even HQ, vehemently attached to her security room, did not dare to refuse family meals.

Much like the front doors to the hotel, the dining room entrance made him halt in his tracks, but with considerable effort he set aside the buzzing nervousness that was coiling his stomach into knots and went in. Ten heads turned to gawk unabashedly at his arrival, and as he slowly made his way down the rectangular table with his gaze lowered, heavy footfalls thump-thump-thumping ominously in the sudden silence, he realized how wrong that was.

There should have been nine.

His father sat at the head of the table and Hattie directly to his right, an empty seat beside her. Cairo did a quick head count of the rest of the table again. Rome was on his father's left, and lining that side of the table were HQ, Tokyo, Antalya, and Shanghai. On Cairo's mother's side sat Berlin, Vienna, and... Cairo frowned, backtracking. Across from Antalya was an unfamiliar little boy with coffee-brown hair that curled around his ears. No.

"Why is there a pirate having dinner with us?" the boy asked loudly. Tokyo snorted.

Cairo gestured to him. "Who's the little brat?" He was sure he already knew the answer, and that he wasn't going to like it.

"Cairo, this is Paris," his mother told him, nodding towards who Cairo could only assume was the newest addition to the family. "Paris, this is your older brother Cairo."

He found himself barking a laugh, surprised somewhat by his own lack of tact but having long lost the ability to care greatly what others thought of him. "Of course," he said wryly. Everyone shot him looks that varied from uneasy to amused to annoyed.

Mr. Quimby hardly spared him a glance, engrossed in financial records. "Shut your mouth and take a seat, Cairo."

Once he'd reluctantly taken his place between his mother and Berlin, Mrs. Quimby began to fuss at her husband, insisting that he put the papers away. She closed her eyes and folded her hands. Everyone else obediently followed her example, like clockwork.

"Dear heavenly father, thank you for this wonderful meal you have given us—"

"And us," Shanghai interrupted. Cairo would have rolled his eye had he not still been afflicted with a raging headache. Such an arrogant prick.

"—and thank you for Rome and Shanghai's hard work in the kitchen," she added with a soft laugh. "Thank you for the return of my second-oldest, and that you are faithful in bringing back all lost sheep. Please bless this meal and this night, and bring us peace through Jesus' name. Amen."

Everyone chorused the amen, Cairo shifting uncomfortably in his chair. His mother had to know better than to assume that he intended to stay for longer than was absolutely necessary. The prayer echoed in his head, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he would be here longer than he'd originally planned when he came in through the door earlier this evening.

"So, care to tell us where you've been and what you've been doing for all these years?" Rome asked quietly as chatter began to spread across the table. Most of his other siblings had elected to pretend he didn't exist, starting up conversation like he wasn't there at all, but of his brothers and sisters, Cairo had certainly always gotten along with Rome the most smoothly. It was a relief that he was at least treating him like a person rather than something unfortunate that he'd found beneath his shoe.

Of course, before he got the chance to respond, Vienna had to ruin it. "He looks as though he kills people for a living, Rome. Probably best not to ask," she said, her tone vindictively sweet.

Cairo clenched his jaw. He glanced sidelong at Berlin and decided it would be better for everyone involved if he imitated his tactics, so he remained silent for most of the length of the meal.

- 2482 Words -