by Mason Dakota
It was sweet and romantic to see, but I didn’t want to be a part of it. I think Chamberlain meant the long kiss as a cautionary message, like one of those “if I don’t come back this moment will help you remember me.” I didn’t blame him. He probably had more reason than I did to dread our visit to the Lady.
What if she discovers his identity?
The Lady was vicious and trigger happy on a good day, and likely wasn’t fond of Illegals. The risks were greater for him than for me.
As Alison left his embrace, Chamberlain winked at her and whispered, “For good luck.”
Envy of Chamberlain’s happiness brought a painful memory flashing through my mind and chest as I recalled my sweet years with Evelyn, my first and only love. We were engaged to be married, but when the time came to choose her or my selfishness…I chose me. I lost everything when she left. I deserved that. And the pain of those memories nearly crippled me each time I saw Alison and Chamberlain look into each other’s eyes. I quickly buried those thoughts and focused back on Chamberlain, vowing to bury those feelings and memories for good.
But they always came back.
Chamberlain really was one lucky man, even if he was hunted and hated by every being loyal to the Empire, because he had found something so few ever seem to really enjoy and cherish. Alison beamed a wide and beautiful smile at him, waved goodbye to the rest of us, and left us three men alone in the quiet.
Michael broke the silence by whistling the old “man sees attractive woman” tune from cartoons. Chamberlain blushed, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“What are you guys looking at?” he asked.
“Just watching you put the moves on Alison,” I said.
“Yeah, you should teach a class on that,” replied Michael.
I turned to Michael and joked, “You mean a social butterfly like you has trouble with the ladies, Michael? I would have thought charming them with your action figure collection and impressive display of board games was all that a man like you needed.”
Michael shrugged and said, “Nah…I think I intimidate woman.”
“Because you’re short?” joked Chamberlain.
“And messy?” I added.
“Because I’m awesome,” said Michael. We laughed and Michael, possibly taking things a bit too far, said, “Dating has taught me woman are impossible to fully understand and I do not like investing time in impossible situations. Griffon you should definitely get Chamberlain to teach you a few things, though. You might just fall in love again.”
Michael’s childish quirkiness meant sometimes he innocently overstepped boundaries. I didn’t take what he said personally. He didn’t know how it affected me. My pain from love and loss wasn’t Michael’s fault. I ruined that relationship with Evelyn and I chose not to forgive myself for it. Since then, I forbade myself to get that close to another female—for her emotional protection and mine.
I may have some issues.
“Shouldn’t we be getting to work?” asked Chamberlain, bringing me back to reality and rescuing me from painful thoughts.
Michael had no idea how his words crushed me. If he did, he didn’t show it. He tossed Chamberlain and me pairs of earbuds and said, “Take these when you meet the Lady. I’ll be listening the whole time and providing support from here.”
I slipped one of the earbuds into my ear. Chamberlain did the same. “Come on; we’re burning daylight,” said Chamberlain as he slapped me on the shoulder, snatched up a duffel bag, and headed for the door. I sprinted over and grabbed my duster and gear from the shelves. I stopped next to Michael and quickly asked him a favor before leaving.
“Hey, Michael I need you to do some research for me while we’re out. I need to know what this symbol means. If you could, keep it just between us for right now. I’d appreciate it,” I whispered.
I quickly sketched out the symbol of the silver skull with the blue rose in its teeth and the combat knife in its head. Michael’s eyebrows rose with interest and curiosity…and maybe fear. Maybe. I’d learned long ago not to try to interpret Michael’s quirky mental and emotional processes that eventually led to his highly effective work. Whatever it took for him to get the job done was fine by me.
“Yeah…sure, Griffon. I will get right on it. May I ask why you want to keep this a secret?”
“Just curious about what it means. Thanks for the help.”
I darted out the door and followed Chamberlain’s footsteps. I concentrated on the sounds of his steps, hoping to drown out the fearful self-talk in my mind. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much I could do to feel better. After all, we were headed straight into Lady Alexandra’s lair.
As soon as we left the hideout, I found a payphone labeled for Outcast use, and called Mayor Josephus Kraine. I accepted the job offer with full loathing in my soul. His ecstatic reaction led to another invitation to his ball tomorrow night in his penthouse. I grumbled a reply, something about thinking it over and reporting to work in the morning, and hung up the phone. I felt like I needed a shower.
What’s worse, agreeing to work for a Mayor who doesn’t care for his people, or trying to trick the mob queen who wants you dead?
I guess I’ll find out if I survive the night.
CHAPTER NINE
“I’m going to propose to Alison at the end of the week,” said Chamberlain.
Chamberlain and I drove in his old beat up gray sedan. When I say beat up, I mean beat up. The back bumper was crushed in on the left side. The car hood had been replaced with a hail-damaged red one. Its right mirror hung against the car door, dangling by a single cord and straps of duct tape. Its left back door couldn’t be opened from the outside. The seats were torn up and worn down. The inside was covered in trash from our stakeouts. The stench from the Stinks must have sunk into the paint because no amount of washing ever got the smell off the car. The car wheezed when we revved the engine. It was pitiful, but it was all he could afford. At least the heap got us from point A to point B. Oh, and he shared it with me, which made the car perfect in my opinion.
“You’re going to do what?” I asked in shock.
“Did he just say what I think he just said,” Michael said ecstatically through our earpieces. Chamberlain beamed the brightest smile.
Oh my, he’s actually being serious here!
“I’ve been saving my money since the day I met her, and I intend to buy the ring in two days. The jeweler’s getting the ring sized to her finger as we speak,” he said.
I couldn’t believe it. He’d said long before he was going to marry her one day, and that he loved her, but I’d always assumed he was joking around. Chamberlain Blair, the Illegal whose very existence was a crime against the Empire and punishable by immediate death, was going to propose and get married. It went against all odds and, as far as I knew, not a single Illegal had ever gotten married—maybe because they didn’t live as long as Chamberlain had. I knew Alison would say yes. She was almost as crazy for him as he was for her.
“I can’t believe this,” I said, cheeks blushing and voice crackling, “I’m just so happy for you right now! I mean, you’ve said it before, but I thought that was just something you did to help get you through the hard times.”
“I don’t say it a lot,” said Chamberlain.
“You have said it seventy-nine times over the past three years,” replied Michael.
I love Michael’s memory.
“You didn’t have to keep track,” grumbled Chamberlain as his cheeks blushed again.
“Why are you asking her now, though?” asked Michael again through our earbuds.
Chamberlain shrugged, as if Michael could see that, and said, “I’ve wanted to for a long time. But now that all this mess with terrorists and politics has started, I figured I should pop the question sooner rather than later…before things possibly go bad. I was going to wait for her birthday next month originally. But as soon as I get the ring, I’ll propose.”
I was proud of my friend. “How were you planning to do
it?” I asked.
He smiled weakly and said, “I’m still working on that part. I haven’t decided between extraordinary or simple. Either way it must be romantic.”
“Well, in my opinion, you have to make sure it’s unforgettable. That way no matter if it’s sweet or mind-blowing, she will remember it well,” I said. I tried to sound as romantic, but such language sounded horrible coming out of my mouth, like I was trying to chew on sand. I was genuinely excited for Chamberlain and Alison, but with my track record, it felt hypocritical to give Chamberlain advice.
I think Chamberlain was about to make a joke, but was caught off guard when we heard sobbing over the line.
“Michael, are you crying?” I asked.
“No—,” Michael said through more sobs, “I am just so happy for you Chamberlain. I can not believe we are going to have a wedding!”
I laughed and so did Chamberlain. “Hey, first she has to say yes,” said Chamberlain.
“Who are you kidding? Of course she will say yes! You’re like a big teddy bear—all fluffy and soft. How could she ever say no to you?” sobbed Michael.
“A teddy bear you say? I’ll have to remember that one. Thank you, Michael,” I chuckled.
Chamberlain cringed, knowing all the future remarks soon to come, and quickly redirected our conversation.
He said, “The reason I’m telling you this now is because I was wondering if you would be my best man, Griffon?”
The fear I felt earlier was replaced by a wave of love. “Of course, I will be. Nobody’s got your back like me.” More sobs came from Michael’s end of the line.
“This is great, guys. Have I ever told you guys that I love you both? Of course I have. This is me we are talking about. Oh, man I am just so happy right now. I am getting tears all over my keyboard. I cannot wait for your bachelor party! Griffon, you best do an awesome job,” Michael said, seemingly as fast as he typed. Cheerful sobs and quick speaking don’t mix well when coming from Michael.
Chamberlain laughed and said, “All that has to wait, Michael. We’re pulling in now.”
We arrived at Lady Alexandra Carline’s mansion. It was a large building of pure architectural beauty—a stunning mixture of both modern and older design that blended together with a cohesion that only the best architects could have pulled off. Its three oversized levels stretched upward and slightly outward to make the building seem bigger, as if every floor held its own ballroom.
Four large, black marble pillars, speckled white to resemble a night sky, stretched across the front like twisting bean stalks holding up a balcony patio that overlooked the courtyard beneath it. Solid white stairs led up to a beautiful reinforced oak door engraved with vines. Large paneled windows decorated the front revealing only the back of heavy silver curtains. The roof was a dome shape with slippery tiles, which made access by a thief impossible.
The front of the house was protected by a wall that wrapped around the outskirts of a large courtyard filled with lush green grass and trimmed hedges. One small tree grew in the center of the courtyard; it was dotted with delicious looking red apples. There were cameras positioned everywhere, and guards carrying barely legal semi-automatic weapons patrolled about the courtyard and house.
Blood money had some benefits.
The only unattractive factor of the building was all the guards. They were everywhere like a swarm of gnats. It was like that from the moment we entered the Lady’s territory in the Noble District. Men who looked ready to do war were all over the place, even though that same day, the NPFC had been cracking down on the Lady’s mob and forcefully taking members of her crew into custody.
The Lady’s mob responded back in equal force and now hospitals were filled with wounded from both sides. The streets of Chicago had been hit with drive-by shootings on NPFC cars and full-scale assaults on mob territories by the authorities. A lot of blood was spilled in 24 hours, all because of my lie and whatever was in that vault Kraine wanted back so badly.
I tried not to think about the bodies suffering because of my actions. Whenever I did I felt sick to think that battle started over a single robbery astounded me. That must have been some file Gabriel wanted. If only I knew what secrets it held…
“Well, I guess walking up to the front door and asking to see Alexandra is out of the question,” said Chamberlain. I nodded as I tried to work out a plan of approach. If I walked up dressed as Shaman, she’d probably have me shot on sight. If I walked up saying how I was now the Outcast Emissary for the Mayor, word could spread, and my career in politics would be over before it started. I’d be at the end of a hangman’s noose over some framed crime. Kraine might be protected by his blood-tie to the Emperor, but I was easily expendable.
Oh, no! I haven’t even started my job and I’m thinking like a politician!
I could have easily scaled the wall and enter through a window, but would have been an open target for any trigger-happy mobster. Undoubtedly, Alexandra’s covered her place with silent alarms. Her guards looked dangerous. Something told me that they were the shoot first then ask questions later type of men.
I looked around for inspiration. Resting in the pocket on the back of my seat was a big oak club. Its handle was bound by strips of leather and written on the side in big black letters was the word COUNCIL. Chamberlain had carved it himself and took great pride in it.
It was illegal for any Outcasts, and Illegals I guess, to own a gun or a blade longer than a kitchen knife—and sometimes even that much was enough for any rough NPFC officer looking to up his arrest records. The measures I went to acquire the gear and few weapons we owned were crimes punishable by death. The most common reason Outcasts were executed was for acquiring arms for home defense. We had to be sneaky and smart. For instance, the lining of the back seat of Chamberlain’s car hid an old hunting rifle stolen from a museum and still in working condition.
As I stared at the oak club a plan started to form in my mind. I didn’t like it, but unless I grew wings or could turn invisible and walk through walls I didn’t have any other plan. I gulped. It was either brilliant or incredibly stupid.
Probably both.
“Rumor is that Alexandra has placed a bounty on Shaman’s capture, right?” I asked.
“Yup, with the promise of high payment and membership in her crew to the lucky scoundrel that brings him in alive,” said Michael through the line.
The promise of membership was no joke. Lady Alexandra Carline didn’t let just anyone into her crew. Candidates had to prove themselves and that required killing someone. However, membership in the Lady’s mob—especially if you were part of her inner circle—guaranteed a roof over your head and a full stomach every night at the cost of whatever dark path she ordered you to travel. To say it was part of my bounty meant she really wanted me dead.
Chamberlain studied me with a worried look. “Please tell me you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking,” he begged.
I smiled apologetically and said, “How would you like to cash in on my bounty?”
He moaned and rubbed his forehead as he said, “Oh, I’m really not going to like this, am I?”
“You’re not going to like it,” I confirmed.
CHAPTER TEN
We waited until nightfall. Chicago’s tall building structures and the early fall sunset meant we didn’t have to wait long. With the coming night came a decrease in temperature and increase in wind. My coat flapped around my shins and the cold sent shivers up my spine.
We hid in the shadows of an alley across the street from Alexandra’s front gate. I donned my full Shaman attire, minus tools and weapons. I left those in the trunk of Chamberlain’s car. Chamberlain, however, wore the same clothing as before: his favorite brown leather jacket, a scarf tied around his neck, and his baseball cap. By all appearances he seemed unarmed and I suddenly found such a possibility terrifying.
“You ready?” I asked as I held my hands out in front of me.
He sighed, clamped the handcuffs
on my wrists, and said, “I still think this is going to get us both killed.”
“Nah, I’m your best man, remember? It’s my job to make sure you get to your wedding day. What sort of best man would I be to leave you to bite the bullet?” I joked.
“You’re a saint, Griffon,” he muttered. He snapped the handcuffs closed, not too tightly but enough to fool most people. I had the small key tucked into the cuff of my right sleeve ready for when I’d need to break out.
Michael chimed in, rattling off a hundred miles per hour, “I am still not convinced that this is the way we should go about getting a private conversation with Alexandra. Statistically, the odds of both of your deaths are quite high, and she might not even know anything. It is too much risk with not enough assurance. Really, we should cancel this mission and look elsewhere. Then I will not have to explain to Alison what happened and how I let the two of you do this, and she will not be all broken up—and you two both know I do not do well around crying women! I am a disaster around them, and she will likely kill me for not stopping this! I am too young to die—especially at the hands of a broken-hearted red-head! I still dream about traveling the world and seeing all the sights. Please do not do this to me!”
“It’s going to be fine, Michael. We’re safe as long as they don’t find out who Chamberlain is, and everything goes according to the plan,” I said, faking confidence.
“You know as well as I do that nothing ever goes according to plan. Something always goes wrong!” said Michael. I didn’t have a good answer for that. He was right and it made me panic inside. A million things could go wrong here.
“Come on then, we best get this over with,” said Chamberlain, ever strong in the face of fear. He moved forward, and I tried to stumble along as if I’d been brutally beaten. Even Chamberlain changed his stride, swaying his shoulders and pushing me around with the occasional insult. He played his part rather convincingly; then again, Chamberlain was always something of a grand story-teller—often acting out various stories and skits for our entertainment.