Nobility

by Mason Dakota

  “So, what does that mean?” asked Chamberlain.

  “It means our theories about someone hiring Ziavir might not be true. We are back at the beginning…back to knowing nothing except we are hopeless outmatched. If he really is working for some sort of evil organization, our problem has escalated from a single mad man to an entire organization that is only heard about in whispers and rumors. No wonder Ziavir is considered a ghost. We’re fighting against an army of myths.”

  I rubbed my forehead in frustration. Michael’s discovery wasn’t helping things. I made me feel smaller and weaker by the minute.

  Ignorance is bliss sometimes.

  “So how do we fight myths?” Alison asked.

  “We don’t. We cannot defeat something like this. We try to stop them, and we are dead,” said Michael.

  Nobody spoke or rushed to correct him. And for once nobody looked at me, thankfully, but instead everyone stared off in different directions. The silence didn’t last long, but I saw in each pair of eyes the same fear and insecurity waging inside my own chest. We weren’t cut out for this challenge I knew.

  Only Chamberlain saw it differently, as usual, and quickly stepped in to take charge. “We can’t walk away from this. People’s lives are at risk. We’re responsible for that. So, we are going to stand and fight for them. We do that by forgetting about Nebula and focusing on the individual. That means we find Ziavir and stop him. We do that, then we focus on Nebula as a whole.”

  I won’t deny the inspiration I began to feel at his confidence and for a brief second I started to believe that we could do it—that he made the plan simple enough for us to accomplish.

  “Yesterday, I saw Commissioner Carmichael wearing a ring with that symbol. If he is also with Nebula that may be how Ziavir is going secretly through the city,” I said.

  “Chamberlain and I can look into that today,” offered Alison.

  “That sounds great! Michael can you work on tracking down that hacker? I have a gut feeling that Nebula is somehow involved. Maybe they had a hand in it or maybe not, but my gut is telling me that Ziavir is somehow involved with them.”

  “I will get started right away,” said Michael as he moved to grab his laptop.

  “Okay, now you need to get to work. You’re already late on your first day on the job. I’ll drive you downtown,” said Chamberlain as he slapped me on the shoulder and then headed out the door.

  I completely forgot about the job with the Mayor! I checked the nearest clock and grimaced. I was an hour late already. I quickly said my goodbyes to Alison and Michael, who had already gotten to work on the laptop trying to trace the stolen money and followed Chamberlain out the door.

  This is going to be a rough day.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Our drive was quiet—an ironic turn of events from our previous energetic conversation in the same car. I knew Chamberlain was angry, but I also knew he had more self-control than I did. We both knew I punished myself enough. I got blood on my hands while putting my friends in danger. I felt something dark grow inside of me.

  Two men dead. The shame and guilt I felt came not from knowing they were dead, but from the pain in knowing I could easily kill again…maybe even come to enjoy it someday. There was an almost…sweetness to the act—like I’d enacted some manner of justice in the world—like fate decided I was the better man to be alive and every trouble those two men would cause was forever over with.

  Knowing the darkness lurked inside me made me want to vomit.

  Chamberlain pulled the car to a stop a block away from the Mayor’s office. A small crowd of reporters stood waiting for my arrival. If they saw Chamberlain, he would be discovered and executed. It would be a front-page story to have him spotted, especially if spotted in my company. Most Illegals didn’t make it past age two before they were discovered. Chamberlain had survived a long time, partly because he had the looks to blend in with a Noble crowd.

  In our world looks could kill…or in Chamberlain’s case, save a man’s life.

  I reached for the door handle and was about to say a cheap goodbye, and even cheaper thanks, when Chamberlain suddenly spoke. “Be careful, Griffon. You’re heading down a path from which I fear you won’t return.”

  Look at him, he’s hated and hunted by the world just because he exists. And despite insulting him and putting his life at risk, he still worries for my safety!

  “Relax, I got this. It’s nothing I haven’t handled before,” I said trying to make my voice sound light-hearted and carefree. It was probably the worst lie I’d ever told.

  He shook his head and said, “I’ve noticed you’re changing very quickly these past few days. And I know it began when Gabriel gave you that mask. I know you must feel like you still have to prove yourself—that all of this isn’t beginning to affect you.”

  “I said I can handle this, Chamberlain!”

  “But I don’t believe it. I see my friend losing himself to an image he dreams of being, and haunted at the same time by a pain he can’t let go.”

  “Is this your way of saying that I shouldn’t be Shaman or that I don’t deserve it?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying, Griffon.”

  “No, what you are saying is that you don’t believe in me. You think you could do a better job as Shaman. Well too bad, Gabriel picked me—not you!”

  Chamberlain slapped the dashboard with the palm of his hand and shouted, “That is enough! I do not want that foul thing! I never have and never will.”

  “Oh, don’t give me that, Chamberlain. We both know Gabriel saw you as the better choice. I was just the backup! He told me so last night. Your self-righteousness and pity for me is the reason I got that mask. Don’t preach to me that “holier than thou” stuff! We both know I only carry this because you refused it!”

  Chamberlain shook his head and said, “Is that really what you think, that you were simply a replacement for me? Are you hurting that badly that you can’t see past your shame and guilt?”

  “I’m fine. Everyone has his demons. Or is that something you don’t understand either? You’re too perfect to know how I am feeling. I’ll get through this myself just like I always do,” I lied. It wasn’t a very good lie, and it sounded weak coming out of my mouth.

  I’m a politician who can’t lie.

  “Is that really what you think of me, that I can’t possibly know how you feel?”

  I didn’t answer him and he looked away for a couple of seconds of silence. Finally he said, “And if this job and new responsibilities turn you into something you are not, what then?”

  “I can resist temptation.”

  Chamberlain sighed and whispered, “Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.”

  The words stung. Chamberlain was not only voicing his concern for my withering soul, but also voicing an opinion that I wasn’t strong enough to handle this. He had no faith in me; my oldest friend doubted my strength. Maybe I was overlooking this, maybe I was just miss-interpreting all of this, but my anger made me not care.

  “How dare you insult me like that? What gives you the right to doubt me? For years we have survived, thanks to my efforts, and not once have I ever failed to keep my word. I said I can handle this. And I will! I said I would stop Ziavir. And I will! You have no right to doubt me—not after everything we’ve been through. So, either start believing in me again, or stay out of my way.”

  I regretted saying those words the minute they left my lips. I spoke in rage. The words weren’t real, but that didn’t mean they didn’t hurt my best friend.

  Chamberlain’s face sank, and he dipped his head down and away from my gaze. I’d expected anger but saw only pain in Chamberlain’s expressions. I’d hurt him when he didn’t deserve it. He wished only to warn me, but I responded with ungrateful frustration and stress.

  Chamberlain deserved better. I should have apologized. I should have taken back everything I said. Three days before, I would neve
r have said such things, and if I had, I would have immediately taken them back. I had changed, and I feared for the worse. So I didn’t apologize. I said nothing. I just got out of the car and slammed it behind me.

  I stormed off toward the Mayor’s office as fast as I could. Chamberlain never called for me to stop. I didn’t expect that, anyway. Things were crumbling between Chamberlain and me, and I feared the damage was permanent. I heard Chamberlain start the car up again and drive away, leaving me alone with my constant companion, self-pity.

  Why am I driving away everyone who cares about me?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The press surrounded me like a suffocating noose. I felt like an emperor penguin in a blizzard squished in the center of the pack. At least I wasn’t being hit by the cold Chicago wind.

  microphones, cameras, and other recording devices were pushed in my face. I saw more than heard the questions as reporters rattled them. None of them pierced the veil I’d thrown over my mind. I walked through a fog, oblivious to their pestering. I pushed my way through to the door and wondered how I must appear to such an audience and what repercussions would come out of my blatant disregard for them.

  As I reached the front doors of the Mayor’s office, two NPFC officers moved forward and pushed back the last of the press to make room for me to enter the building unhindered. I strode through the lobby and headed straight for the elevator. Leaning against the wall by the elevator stood a man in an expensive suit with his hands in his pockets. Seeing me, he smiled and approached me.

  His dirty blonde hair was almost golden. Dark-rimmed glasses hung off the tip of his nose. He wore the handsome features of every Noble with a thin frame and clean-shaven face. When we made eye contact he flashed a movie star smile. His eyes were a storm cloud gray, and I had the feeling his soul was just as cloudy. I did not trust him.

  “Ah, Griffon Nightlock, the Mayor’s new Outcast Emissary. Might I have a minute of your time?” A song bird couldn’t have had a better voice. I hated the smile he gave me. Too perfect.

  I scowled at him and said, “Buzz off.”

  That probably wasn’t the best thing to say, but I was far too angry with myself to care. He smiled, unaffected by my remark. He glanced around him to check to see who was listening. We were the only ones in the lobby except for the receptionist on the other side of the room. I didn’t let my cold eyes leave him as he looked around. When he realized that we were alone his smile vanished and a flash of anger spread across his face.

  “Allow me to be very clear when I say I do not care if you are the Mayor’s new favorite puppet. Disrespect me again and I’ll make sure your new career will not last the week.”

  I’m not even sure if I’ll survive the week.

  “I don’t respond well to threats,” I whispered.

  “I would have thought an Outcast would be used to receiving threats. Shall I give a call over to the authorities and inform them of your…insubordination?”

  We glared into each other’s eyes briefly before I finally looked away. The man smiled and said, “Now we are getting somewhere.”

  “Who are you and what do you want?” I asked.

  “My name is Ralph Erikson,” and he said it like his name was worth my weight in gold. Sadly it might have been. That morning, I’d read some of Mr. Erikson’s articles on the news reel. He was a powerful and influential editor. Not much went on without Erikson broadcasting the truth and earning a profit from it.

  Erikson was a legend. He had the power to make or break anyone, and just about all of us attributed our knowledge of current events and truth from his written word. And while I was in the mood to hit him, knowing his name only made his previous threat all the more serious. A few bad words from him and I could be hanged. I wondered if Erikson had ever done that before…written someone into the gallows. He had the power to move people to think however he saw fit. He could get me killed before the day was up if I wasn’t careful.

  I hate politics.

  Why can’t anything ever be easy?

  “I can tell you do know who I am. Glad to see the Outcasts can read. I always assumed that anything higher than a third-grade reading level was beyond your people’s comprehension. But you have the mark of some intelligence about you,” mocked Erikson.

  I swallowed and put on my best politician face before asking, “What do you want?” Erikson’s smile returned, but it was darker. I pictured him with fangs.

  “It is funny that you should mention that…Shaman.”

  I was speechless.

  How could he know who I really was? His eyes sparkled, and I knew where this was going. There was a message between the lines. He wanted something. Gabriel always said no knowledge is ever truly free, and keeping it has a price. This was a mugging for my silence. All the money I owned was in my pockets, but Erikson, being one of the richest men in Chicago, didn’t look like a man in need of money. That only left one thing that Erikson wanted that I could offer.

  Erikson wanted power

  He wanted a puppet.

  First day on the job and I’m already on the path to become another corrupt politician like all the others in this city.

  I didn’t like being a pawn in the game, even if I was still trying to figure out what the game was and who played it. I hated it all, and I hated Erikson.

  “Yes, I know who you are,” said Erikson. I was trapped…and Erikson knew it.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  Erikson opened his mouth to speak, but before a single word came out of his mouth I noticed the ring on his pinky finger. It was a gold banded ring with the same symbol Ziavir had in his own ring. The same symbol Police Commissioner Victor Carmichael had. Nebula’s symbol.

  He’s one of them!

  I didn’t care who he was or who he was with. I grabbed his throat with my left hand and threw him back against the wall.

  “Hey, what th—”

  I cut him off as I shifted my hand and slammed my forearm across his throat, pinning him against the wall. He moved his right hand to his left side to grab something. I don’t know if it was a knife or a gun. I grabbed his wrist with my right hand and pressed hard on the pressure point in his palm as I forced my forearm deeper against his throat. Erikson let out a hiss of breath and tensed up.

  “Let go of me!” he hissed.

  “Shut up and listen. I’m not going to be pushed around by Nebula or Ziavir. And I especially won’t get bullied by you. You’re not the only one who knows a few secrets. So, listen to me. Inform your brotherhood that unless they want more bloodshed they best leave town. I’m the sheriff here and this is my city. I will defend it with my life and I…will…stop…them,” I whispered.

  My heart raced, and it took all my willpower to hide my pain. I worried my face would reveal that every breath hurt. My leg and arm screamed, and I figured I’d opened some stitches. Erikson didn’t try to fight back. He also didn’t try to deny anything.

  He just smiled like a weasel and said, “I was not sent here to be your enemy. I came here today to persuade you to forget about this foolish crusade. My employer would rather not contend with you as an enemy while he finishes his work. His next warning and offer won’t be as pleasant as this one. Consider it an olive branch, a chance to change this world into a better place. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? Isn’t that why you put on the mask…Shaman?”

  “Sorry, but I don’t work for psychopaths and killers.”

  “Oh, but from what I can tell you are very close to becoming one yourself.”

  I grunted and said, “Here’s my counter offer. You and the rest of your boy band leave town immediately, or I will burn your entire operation to the ground.”

  “Such vivid…imagination.”

  “Try me,” I said as I squeezed briefly a bit harder on Erikson’s pressure point.

  He hissed in pain before letting out a gasping chuckle, “We are everywhere and well-funded. You can’t stop what has already begun. Think about those you a
ssociate with. Like your quirky hacker currently looking into the money we stole. Or your sidekick, that dim witted Illegal with the club and hopeless morality, and that pretty girl with dreams of entering the medical field one day. Or that old man you pretend to worship when he’s present but quickly disobey when you think he’s not looking. I’m going to bet that one of them will betray you before the end—maybe all of them—if you don’t cease this crusade! If that doesn’t happen…we will be forced to do what we do best.”

  My heart skipped a beat. I released Erikson and stumbled back. I couldn’t lift my gaze from the floor.

  How much does Nebula know about us, and how did they find out?

  Erikson fixed his tie and said mockingly, “Oh yes, we’ve known all about you and your gang for a quite some time. I will advise that if you continue to oppose us there will be ramifications. I’m starting to think I’d rather enjoy exposing your friends and having you watch them all be hanged for your actions. They will pay before you will. Is that really the hero you want to be?”

  I silently soaked it all in.

  “I don’t think so. Think over this decision carefully. Let us do our work or watch as everything you love burns. No need for an answer now. I’ll receive your answer tonight at the ball. Good day, Shaman.” Then he turned and strode, whistling like a canary, out of the lobby.

  The ball?

  If Erikson was going to be there and expected me to be too, something was going to happen. Probably something bad. Meaning I had to be there. I grumbled. I’d hoped to avoid that event.

  Funny how plans change.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “You’re late. You were supposed to be here two hours ago. I had a press conference scheduled to announce the creation and filling of your job. After you didn’t show up I had to ask them all to leave. A complete embarrassment to my name! On top of that, this was in the morning paper!” said Mayor Kraine as he tapped a button on his watch and suddenly a massive holographic image appeared in the space between us.