Unfurl by Cidney Swanson

deserving the gift of life eternal. For their children at any rate. Although, who knows but that we may, in time, find ourselves able to fuse the gene for invisibility into the DNA of an adult. I am certain we shall not lack for volunteers should the day arrive!
    I estimate we can eliminate ninety–five percent of all living carriers in the next several years. Those who escape us? Well, once I have the run of the planet, it will be a simple enough step to convince the jealous to turn in their neighbors or their family members.
    It has been done before.
    I hesitated briefly over removing the last of Elisabeth’s descendants. But I must show strength and not weakness in this matter. Who are they to me? Merely the offspring of her bastard bratlings.

Chapter Fourteen
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    ONLY MADMEN DRIVE IN ROME
    · WILL ·
    “You think she was kidnapped?” I asked. “Did Pfeffer ‘hear’ us somehow?”
    Sir Walter frowned and glared, the nearest I’d seen him to angry. “Formerly, Pfeffer never gave any indication that he could hear the thoughts from my mind unless we were both invisible . I tried for years to train him, but it was in vain.”
    “Like me,” I said grimly. “But let’s say he did notice us: where would he take her?”
    Sir Walter brought a fist down on the kitchen table in the first display of anger I’d ever observed. The bowl of pasta rattled and settled beside the computer. A flicker of light caught my attention: the monitor, coming to life, out of screen–saver mode.
    “There’s a note!” I said, leaning over Sir Walter to read a brief message that had been typed onto the computer screen.
    I went to Saint Peter’s. Got stir–crazy. Back for dinner. Make it good! ;)
    “WHAT?” I roared. At Sir Walter. ‘Cause he was the only person in the room. But it wasn’t him I was pissed at and next thing I knew, I’d kicked a dining chair that bumped the table as it fell. The bowl of pasta teetered and slipped, dumping dinner all over the fallen chair.
    “Church? Really? Now she gets religion?” I paced back and forth, uttering foul things about my sister and her sense of timing. I really wanted to kick another chair over, but I knew Sir Walter would be the one paying for damages. I settled for pounding my fist into my left hand. Repeatedly.
    Sir Walter’s soft laugh filled the dead space. “Perhaps an invisible run would be in order?”
    Somehow, him asking that just took all the fight out of me, and I sagged onto the couch. “I should’ve known to check the computer,” I mumbled. “We always leave notes on the kitchen table. It was so obvious.”
    Sir Walter’s mouth curved up but just on one side. “ Calquecop le pa que be quand las denses s’en soun anandos .”
    “Am I supposed to understand that?”
    “It is a saying in the tongue of my youth: Sometimes the bread shows up after the teeth are already gone ,” he replied.
    “Hmmph,” I grunted.
    “It is a way of saying that bad timing happens, my young friend.”
    He was trying to help. I made an effort to be less grizzly bear. “That sounded like Spanish. You spoke Spanish when you were a kid?”
    “ Occitan ,” he corrected. “It is similar to Spanish. Or rather, to Catalan.”
    I sighed, stretching my hands high above my head. “So you figure she’s okay, then?” I asked.
    “I think it unlikely Pfeffer will venture to St. Peter’s cathedral this evening.” He tugged at his goatee as he answered my question. Meaning he was just a little worried.
    Right then I heard Mick’s special knock at the door.
    “You better get it,” I said, folding my arms over my chest, anger returning.
    ““I’m so glad you’re back,” said my sister, entering. “Locked myself out. It smells like heaven in … here.” Her eyes found the upside–down bowl of dinner as she removed sunglasses and some kind of head–covering. “Oh. Bummer.”
    “Yeah,” I said. “A little casualty of your need for fresh air.”
    She looked at me, puzzled, a