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Nisha stepped off of the train that had come to a rest at Williams Station located in the heart of Araminta and adjusted the backpack slung over her shoulder. In comparison to the crowds she saw while travelling from her hometown, including a layover in both Heathrow and JFK, the station was basically a ghost town. She walked at a brisk pace through the largely abandoned station, passing by shutters pulled over storefronts that likely hadn’t been raised in years, the synthetic material of her tracksuit making a swishing noise that echoed throughout the hall. Now that she had finally made it in Araminta the girl only needed to find where the Vanburen mansion was and start integrating herself into the family. She had no idea on how she’d actually do that, but she figured she could get by with a wink and a bit of charm. Maybe Nel would come up with something once they were closer.

However, before there could be any time for scheming, Nisha needed to settle the growling in her stomach. She spied a vending machine, half-stocked with what she could imagine were potentially expired snacks. Although candy never went bad, right? Sure, why not. She could regret it later. Nisha slung her backpack off her shoulder, unzipped it, and felt around for her wallet. Panic hit her as she shifted through random toiletries still stuffed inside of plastic bags before she realized that she’d stuffed her wallet in her other bag for safe keeping. Nisha rolled her eyes at her own forgetfulness and—

[color=lightgreen]“Ah, you stupid fucking idiot!”[/color] 

A slapping noise echoed through the station as Nisha smacked her forehead, clearly remembering putting her suitcase in a storage compartment where she had left it when getting off of the train. She turned on her heels and broke off into a dead sprint back to the platform. She wasted no time climbing the marble stairs to the second level, instead willing a pair of phantom limbs to burst out of her shoulders and grab hold of the railing above. She hoisted herself over the railing and continued in her sprint, unaware and uncaring if any normal person had just witnessed a woman appear to leap fifteen feet up a wall. Nisha burst out onto the platform just in time to witness the train departing; she cursed loudly, the f-bomb carrying throughout the station like a cluster strike. 

Nisha flopped onto a bench. Not only was her money gone, but so were her clothes and phone charging—not that her phone worked over here anyway. She tore her book bag from off of her shoulder, slung it around to the front of her face, and dove herself into it as she vented her anger into a long, muffled scream. She kicked and jumped up into a sitting position and slumped forward. Actually, this could be beneficial, couldn’t it? Make her appear a bit more helpless, right? Surely that’d tug on the heartstrings of a couple rich, spoiled elites and help sell the illusion. Yeah, this was a good thing. A happy accident. Just one problem—she didn’t know quite where she was going, and she likely needed money for a cab. Nisha sighed. Whatever. She’d improvise. It was more fun that way.

Already feeling a bit better because of the excitement caused by things already going off the rails, Nisha jumped up from her seat, scowled at the station worker giving her a weird look, and headed for the exit. A bad feeling hit her as she left the station and found herself smackdab in the epicenter of the rust belt. Nisha walked the block, her arms wrapped tight around her as the chill air proved to be too much for her light jacket, and admired the derelict around her as she searched for a cab. It was odd to think that one of the richest families in the world lived in this city, which so far to her was nothing but closed businesses and gutted warehouses. Nisha peered down an empty alleyway, disappointed to not see a couple of bums warming their hands around a burning trash can. Perhaps they would appear later, but this was the kind of place she knew she didn’t want to be walking around alone after dark. Especially not after the fascists at the airport had made her ditch her pocket knife.

With no cab in sight, nor any money for a fare anyway, Nisha kept walking. Worn down buildings spliced with railroad tracks on railroad tracks slowly gave way to nicer, newer looking residences and shops that were neatly decorated with Christmas lights and oversized ribbons. It was all very quaint and served as a stark contrast to her first impression of the city. The streets weren’t necessarily busy, but there were enough people running around doing their holiday shopping to create a kind of buzz. Outside of one of the stores was a man dressed as Santa if he had a liposuction. The bell in his hand was ringing nonstop and people were dropping money into the bucket next to him. Nisha eyed the bucket, accepting that she was fully willing to stoop low enough to swipe some cash from Father Christmas, when the sign for the store behind him caught her eye: Vanburen’s Hardware. 

Nisha smiled and entered the store, casting one look back at the bucket flush with cash. Another time, maybe. The store was fairly small for a hardware place, but neatly organized and well-maintained. The middle-aged man behind the counter gave her a smile and a nod as she entered and then continued to check out the customer he was helping. It didn’t take genius to realize that, clearly, the man behind the counter must be a Vanburen, hence the store’s name, and Nisha had just come up with a genius plan to get herself pulled into the family. She rushed the counter and slammed her hands down on it.

[color=lightgreen]“Oh gosh I am so happy to—”[/color]

“One second, miss. Let me finish—”

Nisha did not, wedging herself between the clerk and the customer. 

[color=lightgreen]“But you don’t understand Mr. Ezra,”[/color] she said, pulling the name of one of the Vanburens out at random. She had done a light bit of research into the family beforehand. [color=lightgreen]“I’m—”[/color]

“Miss, please, if you would just—”

[color=lightgreen]“But I’m your long lost sister, Mr. Ezra! Finally come home.”[/color] 

The clerk gave her a confused stare, which she mistook for him taking the bait and she queued the waterworks and dumped out the sob story. Almost in one entire breath she said, [color=lightgreen]“And oh gosh, Mr. Ezra, I must be the luckiest girl in the world. I always knew my real family was out there, but it was hard being an orphan and all, and when I finally got dad’s letter I couldn’t believe it, but I spent what money I had from working in the factory to get a plane ticket, but when I got here somebody swiped my bag and with it the letter from our dad but I can just tell by looking at you that we got the same eyes so we gotta be brother and sister and oh am I just so glad to finally have a family to call me own and—”[/color]

“Miss I am not Ezra Vanburen, I just work for him,” said the clerk. He handed the customer their bag and receipt as Nisha stared at him dumbfounded, her crocodile tears momentarily paused, “Sorry about that. Have a good one.”

[color=lightgreen]“But you know him, right?”[/color] asked Nisha, trying to go at it the same way but from a different angle. She sniffled to really sell it and pitched up her voice as she spoke. [color=lightgreen]“Look you just gotta call my brother Ezra and tell him I’m alive and that I need help and I’m sure he’d reward you greatly for finding his long lost sister and I’d be eternally grateful and—”[/color]

“Stop, stop. I’m not going to bother Mr. Vanburen just because”—Nisha erupted into the most obnoxious, fake wailing she could muster, making heads turn as the clerk pumped his hands to get the girl to hush—“Look I’ll call him if it just makes you stop.”

[color=lightgreen]“Oh you’re just the best!”[/color] shouted Nisha, instantly dropping the act.

The beleaguered clerk grabbed the corded phone near him and hit the speed dial. Nisha leaned against the counter, her eyes wandering as she heard the faint sound of a ring bleed through from the phone. They settled on a display of box cutters on the counter. Not necessarily a knife, but a solid alternative. She glanced back at the clerk as a loud beep came through the speaker and he asked for Ezra to call him back. He set the phone down and gave the girl a shrug.

[color=lightgreen]“Call him again!”[/color] demanded Nisha. 

“Look, you can just wait in the breakroom and I’ll let you know when he calls back. Mr. Vanburen is a very busy man.”

[color=lightgreen]“[b][i]CALL HIM AGAIN![/i][/b]”[/color]

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Ezra could no longer take it. He slipped his phone out of his pocket as it vibrated yet again, rejected the call—six missed calls from the hardware store. Six! He had a number of unread emails and text messages as well that were just begging to be opened, but he overpowered the temptation. Georgie voiced her displeasure with the whole situation. Ezra found that he agreed with everything she said, but wished she had a little more tact. Sabrina shutdown her sister, pointing out that they had no other options. The edge of Ezra’s mouth tensed. Sabrina was wrong there. They always had other options; they just haven't found them yet. [i]In part due to some of us already giving up,[/i] thought Ezra, looking away as he caught sight of Shane’s flask. 

Their expert spoke up, “...most curses can't affect people with magic."

Ezra sighed and glanced over at Oscar. Did he tell these people everything? For all they knew these kids could be tabloid reporters. Maybe they should table this conversation until he could have their lawyer draw up some non-disclosure agreements and...what? Sue them if they leak anything mentioning magic or curses? Nobody would believe it even if they worked for the Times. Hell, Ezra hardly believed it and he’d once shrunk his desk on accident. He swallowed his frustration at Oscar and continued to listen. The boy asked them how much they knew about magic. Ezra’s answer to that question was more than he ever wanted to, although he imagined it barely scratched the surface of the secrets their father had been hiding from them.

He was about to reply openly when his phone buzzed again. He had forgotten to silence it. It was the hardware store yet again. Family was more important than business, but he also never had a business call him so many times in such a short duration of time. Ezra looked up at his family. It seemed like they were all looking back at him expectantly. They all wanted somebody else to do all the heavy lifting. He expected as much. James had spoiled them. Only...the phone buzzed again. Ezra nodded to Oscar.

[color=darkgray]“I have to take this. This is your forte anyway,”[/color] said Ezra. He headed towards the door but stopped before leaving and turned to add, [color=darkgray]“Whatever we do, despite our supposed differences, we’re going to do it as a family.”[/color]

It was Ezra’s subtle way of telling Oscar and the others to not decide anything else until he was back. He stepped out into the entrance hall and pulled the phone to his ear. The other Vanburens could hear a faintly bored [color=darkgray]“What?”[/color] through the doorway and the creak of the front door opening, followed immediately by a second louder, almost agitated [color=darkgray]“What!?”[/color] cut short by the slamming of the front door.