Father Trigon beamed with pride.
“Welcome home, Brother Blood.”
3
A few weeks later Father Trigon and Sebastian walked the streets of the Glades together. Father Trigon’s clerical collar was snug around his neck. He buttoned up his jacket and put a winter hat on Sebastian as they continued on their way. The two arrived at Saint Walker’s mental institution. Father Trigon opened the door to the hospital and was greeted by one of the nurses.
“Hello, Father Trigon!”
“Good afternoon, Wendy, how are you doing?” Father Trigon asked. “How’s your family?”
“Everyone is doing very well, and thank you for asking,” Nurse Wendy replied warmly. “Who did you bring with you today?” she asked, peering over the counter.
Sebastian snuck out from behind the priest, smiling innocently to the woman.
“Wendy, this is Sebastian Blood,” Father Trigon said.
“Sebastian, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Wendy said with a kind smile. Then she set a clipboard on the counter. “If you both don’t mind signing in for your visit…”
“Of course not,” Father Trigon said, scribbling his John Hancock on the notepad.
“Are you here to see anyone in particular today?” she asked.
“A new patient, Sebastian’s aunt, Maya Resik,” the priest said with a devilish smile.
* * *
Maya sat wearing a white hospital gown, looking out her barred window. Her eyes were red and swollen, her hands cuffed together and resting in her lap. She heard the clicking of the door and turned her head in fear of who it might be. Relief rushed over her as she saw her son enter.
“Sebastian!” she exclaimed with joy, but the boy did not go to her. The priest stood next to him, gripping his arm tightly. “Sebastian, mi amour! Come to your mother!” she begged, but the boy didn’t budge.
“You are not his mother, Maya,” the priest said with a firm voice.
“Yes I am, Father,” she protested. “Sebastian, come to me!”
The father gripped Sebastian’s arm tighter, his skin turning white from the grasp.
“A mother protects her child and keeps him from harm,” he said, a hint of anger in his voice. “A mother teaches her son to live in the Lord’s ways. You have done none of this. You have failed this child. You are no mother, Maya, especially not to this boy.”
She let out a cry, tears streaming down her face. “I am so sorry, my son. I am so sorry. I have been a terrible mother—but I’ve changed. I want to be better for you.”
* * *
Sebastian looked up to the priest, and then to his mother. He was numb to his mother’s words—they no longer had any real effect on him. He felt that he was now part of a real family. One that showed him love, and what it meant to be passionate about something. It was an unbreakable bond.
“Thou shall not let one deceive them with empty words,” Sebastian said.
“For the wrath of God comes upon the sinners of disobedience and negligence,” Father Trigon said.
Maya’s eyes grew wide, putting two and two together. “You are the devil! It was you that night! You are the reason my husband is dead. You did this to my son!” she shouted, and she lashed out, becoming increasingly hysterical. She accused Father Trigon of stealing her son, making him believe his lies, and abducting her poor Sebastian. Then she screamed at the top of her lungs for help, until an orderly—a young woman—finally entered.
“Maya, calm down!” the orderly said gently.
“He is the devil, he is the devil! HE’S TAKING MY SON!” she shouted, and she strained against the cuffs that held her hands. Finally the orderly reached into her pocket for a syringe. She grabbed Maya’s arm, holding it as steady as she could, then jabbed the needle into it, sedating her. The shock caused Maya to stop shouting, and as the sedative took effect, the orderly stroked her hair.
“The father is not the devil,” she said soothingly. “He is a man of God, and that boy over there is your nephew, not your son. You’re confused, Maya.” When Maya was completely calm, the orderly helped her to stand and guided her to the bed. She tucked her in.
“My son…” Maya said weakly. “He is with the devil.”
Father Trigon went to the bed and hovered over her. Maya’s eyes were glassy and bloodshot, and he placed his hand on Maya’s forehead. Maya stiffened in fear, knowing what Father Trigon was capable of doing.
“Peace be with you,” he said, then he turned and guided Sebastian out of the room, leaving Maya to cry for her son.
“Sebastian, I told you I would protect you,” he said as they walked toward the exit. “Brother Langford and I—as well as all the other brothers—work as a team. The halls of Saint Walker are filled with men and women who have failed their city first by failing their own flesh and blood. Many of them, like you, have been given the chance to make life better for others, so that some day—after I am gone—you will continue to protect the vulnerable people who abuse and disgrace their home.”
Sebastian looked up to the father, a feeling of awe shuddering through him at the new journey that had been set forth for him. One which would last for the rest of his life.
4
THE PRESENT
In stark contrast to the celebration held at Zandia Orphanage, a fete was held at the Queen Mansion to welcome all of those who had been elected to the office of alderman. Many of the city’s elite were in attendance, including Mayor Altman and the event’s hosts, Walter Steele and Moira Queen.
Must be nice to be rich, Sebastian thought to himself as he grabbed a glass of champagne off a passing tray. He admired the elegant crystal that contained a very expensive Dom Pérignon. Overall, however, he was unimpressed by all the glitz and glamour—the forced laughter, the hobnobbing, the cronyism. Yet he knew that, as the alderman of the Glades, he would be expected to participate, knew that if he wanted to save his city he needed to play the game.
Sebastian saw Moira and Walter in the distance, elegantly dressed and brilliantly poised, smiling while they talked to their guests. He took a sip of his champagne, placed his glass down, and approached the pair as they finished their conversation. Walter walked away, but Moira remained.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Queen,” he said, tapping her shoulder. She turned and gave him a warm smile as he extended his hand to her. “Sebastian Blood, Alderman for the Glades.”
“Mr. Blood, what a pleasure to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand. “Congratulations on your win—you must be very excited.”
“I am excited, and very eager to get to work,” he replied.
Walter returned with a glass of champagne for his wife, and placed it in her hand.
“Walter, I’d like you to meet Mr. Sebastian Blood,” she said. “He is the alderman for the Glades,” she added as the two men shook hands.
“A pleasure, Mr. Blood,” Walter said.
“Thank you so much for having me in your home—it is quite exquisite,” Sebastian said, glancing at the art on the walls.
“Thank you,” Moira said, following his gaze. Then she turned back to him. “Where are you from originally, Mr. Blood?”
“The Glades, actually, born and raised,” he said, and was amused to see their curious expressions. “It’s true that most of the people who come from the Glades end up on the streets. I guess I’m just one of the lucky ones that had a great upbringing.”
“Well, you have your work cut out for you, Mr. Blood,” Walter observed. “What are your plans to help the district, since it holds such a close place in your heart?”
“I have a five-year plan which I really think will breathe new life into the city,” Sebastian replied.
“Many men have come here before you, Mr. Blood, and have said the same thing. Unfortunately, the Glades remain what they are—a wasted part of the city,” Moira said. Sebastian stiffened at her words, but he knew the power the Queens wielded, and getting them on board would be essential if he was to succeed.
“You co
uldn’t be more right, Mrs. Queen,” he said smoothly. “However, my successors do not know the Glades like I do. I plan to begin by arranging funding for the Zandia Orphanage, as well as expanding the Merlyn Clinic. With those as success stories, we’ll be off to a good start.”
“Zandia does great work with the children there,” Moira agreed.
“I know that from personal experience, as my parents died when I was a young boy and I spent most of my time at Zandia. As far as the Merlyn Clinic goes, I think it’s important for the people of the Glades to receive excellent healthcare, so they can get themselves cleaned up and off the street.” He paused, then added, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you close with Mr. Merlyn and his son?”
A strange expression flitted across Moira Queen’s face, but it was rapidly replaced by a warm smile.
“Oh, yes, our sons were very good friends,” she said, “much like Malcolm was with my late husband and me.”
“I’m glad to hear it, and I appreciate you taking the time to let me prattle on about my plan,” Sebastian said, giving his best charm. “I hope that perhaps the three of us will be able to sit down and discuss it in greater depth.”
Moira was about to reply when a young man stepped up and touched her on the shoulder. She leaned away and the fellow whispered something to her in a low voice. She went stiff, then turned back to Walter, her face drained of color.
“Moira, everything alright?” he asked.
“It’s Oliver… he’s… he’s alive.” She quickly placed her drink down and moved toward the door, with Walter following quickly behind her.
Sebastian remained, forgotten entirely.
5
A ripple of excitement shuddered through Sebastian as he arrived at Starling City Hall for his first day on the job. As he and his fellow politicos made their way to the conference chamber and exchanged courteous pleasantries, it seemed to him as if the air crackled with possibilities.
Each made his or her way to a pre-assigned seat, and Councilman Charles Hirsh took his position at the head of the table.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” Hirsh said loudly enough to be heard over the din, which quieted. “Thank you for coming today.” He placed his briefcase in front of him and opened it. He pulled out the morning newspaper. Even at a distance, the headline could be read.
“I’M ALIVE!” It accompanied a photo of an outdated photo of Oliver Queen, standing next to his father, Robert.
“Nothing like a little excitement to start out the day, eh?” Hirsh commented. “Leave it to the Queen family to keep the city on its toes.” A slight ripple of laughter ran through the chamber.
“The question remains, however,” Councilman Steve Petros noted, “is Robert Queen still out there?”
“I hope not,” another member added, though Sebastian couldn’t see who it was.
“I disagree,” another said. “His foresight and influence led to a great many positive things for Starling City.” This led to a number of individual discussions throughout the chamber, and the murmured din returned. Eager to begin, Sebastian found himself impatient with his fellow aldermen.
“Councilman Hirsh,” he said sharply. “Might we get started with the day’s proceedings? I have a proposal for the Glades which I would like to present to the group.” His words caused a momentary lull, and Hirsh shot him a look.
“We’ll begin shortly, Mr. Blood,” the councilman said. “Just hold tight.” He turned his head to take in the entire group, and asked, “Where do we think Oliver Queen has been all this time, and what was he doing?”
“Well, it doesn’t sound as if he was on Gilligan’s Island,” a voice said. Petros again.
“Judging from the reports, he doesn’t seem to be very forthcoming with details,” another observed—a woman.
“I was with the Queens when they received the news,” Sebastian interjected. All attention turned in his direction, and he felt his face grow warm. “We were discussing the plans for the city, and for the Glades,” he added.
“Please elaborate, Mr. Blood,” Hirsh said, a touch of condescension in his voice. “What was it the Queens said to you at that moment?”
“I had told them about my five-year plan for the Glades,” Sebastian said, yielding a few snickers. He suppressed a frown. “We agreed that our goal was to get the people of this great city off the streets, and into good homes and jobs.” Picking up steam, he spoke clearly. “Walter and Moira seemed very interested in restoring the city, and helping to fund the efforts that would be needed.”
He stopped, and for a long moment no one spoke.
“Mr. Blood,” Charles Hirsh said, “if you are going to survive here as an alderman, it will be in your best interest to understand that rich people make a lot of promises. However, I wish you the best of luck pinning them down on anything tangible.” With that he pulled out his agenda, motioned for the council to do the same, and began the meeting. Mortified, Sebastian sat back in his chair. Deep down, he knew Hirsh was right. The rich weren’t the answer to the city’s ills.
They were the problem.
* * *
The day was warm and bright, but Sebastian’s mood wasn’t as he walked briskly to the Merlyn Clinic in the Glades. It was his lunch break. His thoughts were bleak as he mulled over how little he had accomplished in the first month as an alderman. Try as he might, he remained marginalized and unheard.
The brisk walk helped to clear the cobwebs, however, and he reminded himself of why he had chosen this path. He told himself there were bound to be bumps in the road—that these things took time. By the time he arrived at the clinic, he’d decided that he wouldn’t let himself be pushed aside.
Approaching Dr. Vaca’s office, he found the door ajar. Peering inside, he found the doctor surrounded by a mountain of paperwork. He knocked quietly.
“Hi there, Dr. Vaca,” he said as cheerfully as he could manage. “Just checking in to see how things are going.”
Dr. Vaca removed his glasses and wiped his tired eyes. “Sebastian, hello, my friend! Please come in.” He rose from his chair and held out his hand. “How are things going for you as our new alderman?”
“Life is quite… satisfactory,” Sebastian replied. “I can’t complain.” He glanced around at the cluttered surroundings. “What about you? How are things going here at the clinic?” The doctor didn’t answer at first, and his brow furrowed slightly.
“I will be honest with you, Sebastian, not good. Not good at all. I struggle every day to keep this clinic above water, and every day becomes a bigger challenge.” The doctor lowered his voice. “There are times when I despair.” He paused for a second, leaning back in his chair. His eyes were red, and his complexion was pale. “You remember the Gomez family from your celebration party? Well, their son just experienced a relapse.”
“That’s terrible,” Sebastian said, a hollowness appearing in the pit of his stomach.
“The clinic is suffering, and I don’t think we have enough resources to care for him. I feel terrible, but I just don’t have the means.” He stared at the forms on his desk. “We need to expand the clinic, add new features, and we need the funding to do so. I’m trying everything I can think of.” He looked up, and a flicker of hope appeared on his face. “What about you? Have you made any progress in your plans?”
Sebastian felt as if his heart was breaking.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Vaca, but no. I haven’t made much progress this last month.” He tried to put on his most optimistic face. “Still, I have high hopes that things will turn around, and soon.”
“I wish I could say I believe you, Sebastian,” the doctor said, the flicker gone, “but I know how these things run. We are mired in the legal red tape of the city. The truth is, they just don’t care about us anymore, and it’s getting harder to care myself, being here days on end, seeing how we continue to suffer.
“People just don’t believe in the Glades.”
“I’m sorry, doctor, but I don’t know w
hat to say.” Sebastian rose, shook the doctor’s hand, and left.
There has to be a way, he thought bleakly as he began the trek back to his office. Suddenly a scruffy young man stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop, and shoved a flyer in his face.
“Hey, man—check it out.”
Sebastian jumped as the kid startled him from his trance. He took the flyer and looked at it.
OPENING SOON
VERDANT
Drinks and Dancing
No Cover
Another new club was opening there in the Glades—owned and operated by none other than Oliver Queen. There was a photo—of Queen, of beautiful people, rich people, laughing and partying.
Laughing and partying, while Bobby Gomez is dying.
Sebastian stared down at the flyer in disgust, crumpling it in his hand and pitching it into a trashcan before continuing on his way.
* * *
Sebastian paced back and forth at the security booth, wiping his sweaty palms on the sides of his pants, trying to stay focused as Bobby, the security guard, waited for the signal to let him into Queen Consolidated.
“I have an appointment with Mrs. Queen and Mr. Steele—they should be expecting me,” he said again, and Bobby just nodded with a smile. Sebastian checked his watch. I’m here on time, he fumed. They run the largest corporation in the city—why can’t they keep a simple appointment?
He jumped as the phone rang. Bobby picked it up, put it down without a word, and motioned him forward.
“You’re good to go, young fella,” he said, and he escorted Sebastian to the elevator.
On the ride up to Walter’s office, Sebastian took a few deep breaths to gather himself for his meeting. The others on the council saw his as a lost cause, but he had to try. The elevator dinged as Sebastian arrived at the top floor and Walter Steele’s office. The elevator open, Sebastian straightened his tie, and walked through the glass doors.
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