Nobility

by Mason Dakota

  He shook his head. Tears formed in his eyes. “Griffon, you’ve always been like a son to me. For years I thought you were dead. But you’re not that innocent boy I knew all those years ago. You’ve stepped down a path that will destroy us all. I know. I’ve been down that path. And no matter how much I try, you won’t turn from where you’re heading. So I’m not going to release you. I’m going to spare you. I love you as the son I never had…but no…I won’t let you go. I came here…to say goodbye.”

  “But Gabriel…”

  He raised a hand and shook his head. “I’m sorry Griffon.”

  “Gabriel…Gabriel…come on, Gabriel.”

  But he didn’t release me. Instead he stood up and slipped out of the room.

  I wanted to scream out to him. I wanted him to tell me about all the secrets he kept from me. I wanted him to break me out. I wanted him to save me once again like he always had. I wanted him to be there with me when I died. But I didn’t say anything. I just watched him leave.

  I’m truly alone now.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Minutes ticked away, but they felt like eternity. I cried tears of anger. I thrashed against my cuffs and screamed my lungs out. I choked on the tears that soaked my face. I puked over the side of the bed. I felt my stitches open, and pain flooded my flesh while blood soaked my bandages. I cried for help—for salvation—for mere company in those moments of despair.

  But no one came.

  For a long time, I don’t know how long, I wallowed in that pain. Finally, I gathered the strength to pull myself together. Maybe the medication and pain killers in the IV calmed me down. I lay there staring at the ceiling, wishing my life away and praying for nightfall.

  Fate had other plans for me.

  I heard the door open and close.

  Gabriel?

  I glanced at the clock, seeing that an hour had passed since he left. Maybe he had a change of heart. Maybe he changed his mind and was back to save me!

  The curtain drew back and in stepped Agent Jeremiah Lorre.

  He didn’t speak a word as he closed the curtain behind him and moved to stand in front of the bed. His stare and his presence ice cold.

  “I looked into what you sent me and did some digging of my own. Unfortunately…you were right. My partner was dirty,” he whispered. He said it without making eye contact.

  I didn’t answer him. Silence proved best against a man carrying his own level of anger issues. Lying there I saw the rage bubbling inside of him, his veins popping out on the side of his skull.

  Is he here to kill me?

  Fists shaking, he said, “But he wasn’t the only one. I trusted my superiors. I trusted my Commissioner and the Mayor to be good and righteous for Chicago. But I was wrong. Despite Ziavir’s threat, I’ve been ordered to focus my efforts toward keeping people trapped inside the city. When I protested, and my private investigation was uncovered, my superiors accused me of insubordination…and they fired me.”

  He huffed out an angry breath and said, “I want to know everything. No more lies. No more deception and betrayal! Tell me everything you know…or I swear I will kill you right here.”

  I believed him.

  “What’s in it for me? After all, I’m stuck here waiting for the light to come…so to speak. Killing me does not change my fate; it only brings it a few hours sooner.”

  “Strange. I expected to find a man who would never give up. Instead I find a boy crying in defeat.”

  “What are you suggesting?” I asked with hurt pride.

  “I need help. Commissioner Carmichael fired me when I tried to oppose his command. He’s keeping a close eye on me now. He doesn’t trust me. I can’t do anything to stop what’s happening…however, I believe you can, or I believe you have connections to a certain someone who may.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  Lorre took a deep breath. “I get you out of here. In exchange you tell me everything you know about what’s going on. And then, if we somehow live past today, you help me catch Shaman and bring him justice for his crimes. I don’t care if dirty cops do run this city, Shaman murdered a cop and will answer for that. But Chicago needs someone brave enough to stand up to Ziavir, and you appear to be my only connection to him. Do we have a deal?”

  I didn’t wait long. I had only two options: say no and then die peacefully and swiftly in about five hours, or tell Lorre what I knew and get released only to most likely die a painful, brutal death.

  An easy enough decision to make.

  “There is a secret terrorist organization called Nebula committing acts of espionage and assassinations across the globe. Their network is vast and claims to have ties to just about every organization in Chicago—possibly even in the Emperor’s inner court. Both Ziavir and your partner worked for them, as well as your employer, Carmichael and even the media editor, Ralph Erikson.”

  “Ralph Erikson?” Lorre asked.

  “Yes, he and Carmichael are the reason Ziavir has been able to work unhindered by the press or the cops. Meanwhile Ziavir has been working as Nebula’s weapon to destroy Chicago. They think they are creating a better world.”

  “So a bunch of narcissistic psychopaths?”

  “They believe the end will eventually justify the means. Their plan is to destroy Chicago in order to rebuild it to their liking and then make sure the rest of the Empire will follow. It all started a few nights ago on the train. Ziavir intended to destroy the monorail system. He would have taken away a major form of transportation out of the city in preparation for today. The NPFC would have been so busy with all the wreckage that he would have had plenty of time to put the rest of his plan in motion, knowing that people would have a harder time getting out of the city later because of the bomb.”

  “But you stopped that plan.”

  “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and got lucky. It didn’t change anything. The war between the mob and the authorities distracted everyone from Ziavir.”

  “Josephus Kraine wanted Shaman for what he stole. Carmichael and the Mayor used that to have us focus our efforts upon the mob. We all knew it was wrong, but we did it anyway, arresting known members of the Lady’s mob and breaking down every door belonging to her. It didn’t take long before the bullets started firing,” said Lorre.

  His eyes darted downward. Lorre must have lost many friends during all that, thanks to a series of betrayals and deception. The mob hadn’t been gentle while fighting back against the NPFC. The pain he carried had to weigh him down. If he figured out I was Shaman, he would likely snap, kill me where I lay, and call it justice.

  Maybe he would be right.

  “I’m sorry…”

  Lorre didn’t respond. He barely lifted his chin as he kept his eyes on the floor and gritted his teeth.

  “I think your boss is responsible for other crimes on Nebula’s behalf. I think he may have had something to do with that hacking that stole millions from Chicago that hurt the rich and Chicago’s economy. I believe Nebula used that money to fund their operation here as well as to cripple Chicago’s infrastructure.”

  “You’re right. Unless that money is returned, it won’t take long to topple Chicago. Taxes will increase and the Outcasts will suffer the most. It will only spark more fighting.”

  “Which is what Nebula wants. In some ways, taking that money was a two-edged sword. They can fund their operation and have a safety net for their plans. If they do have a bomb and its gets stopped, there is nothing to stop Chicago from collapsing due to hate between Nobles and Outcasts—between the rich and poor.”

  “And the Mayor? What does Josephus Kraine get out of this? What’s he after?” asked Lorre.

  “Political power… and a fancy new office.”

  Lorre’s eyes widened. “He desires to replace his uncle as Emperor.”

  I shrugged, and said, “Everyone knows the Emperor is getting old without a proper heir to follow him. Kraine’s the closest thing to an heir the Emperor has, but i
sn’t in direct line to the throne. If Emperor Adam Rythe dies, the throne goes to the Senate unless the Senate votes on Kraine to fill the vacancy. Kraine’s only building his political platform, preparing for the death of his uncle—or worse, planning on overthrowing his own uncle in some way.”

  “Is Kraine capable of doing that? Of overthrowing his uncle, the most powerful man in the world?”

  “I think a greedy man will attempt just about anything to satisfy his desires.” Lorre’s silence told me he accepted that reasoning. He rubbed his chin as he paced around my bed.

  Shifting the conversation slightly backwards, he asked, “Okay, but if Erikson controls Chicago’s press to keep Nebula and Ziavir out of the papers, why did he report both robberies?”

  “The people who were robbed were too powerful and important to keep a crime like that hidden. Then again, maybe it furthered their goals behind the scenes. Maybe they wanted it reported to stir up more hate between the species. Erikson and those like him manipulate the news on a regular basis, and people accept it as truth. That’s why the real story of what happened on the monorail wasn’t true in the papers. That’s also why the papers have been focusing only on the street wars…to keep the people distracted.”

  “But why would Ziavir broadcast his threat across the city? Why take those hostages?”

  I took the time to think before I said, “Ziavir can’t resist putting on a show. That’s why he waited until that party last night before he snatched those two scientists and announced Nebula’s presence. He could have done it privately, but he wanted powerful people to see him do it. More chaos that way. He must need those two scientists for something. It’s probably far more difficult than simply turning on a switch to activate his weapon. Maybe he needs a nuclear physicists. But I’m not sure why he kidnapped both of them.”

  Thankfully Lorre had the answer. “They’re both the top in their fields. If he took only one, the other could safely disarm the weapon. Taking both ensures security, and allows him to torture one to get the other to do what he wants.”

  Gulp.

  “He has to be stopped.”

  Lorre crossed his arms and tilted his head back. “How do you suggest that happens? I can’t investigate. I have no badge or gun anymore. Carmichael is watching me. Anything I do will result in my arrest, maybe even execution. He’s already done it once to a co-worker today. My hands are tied.”

  I swallowed. “You’re right about what you said earlier. I do…know a guy who wants Ziavir stopped just as much as you and I do, and I’m the only one who knows where to find him and how to get in contact with him. He needs to know what we’ve put together. Let me go, and I’ll make sure he knows the truth. He might be our only hope.”

  Lorre stiffened up a bit and said, “A necessary evil it seems.”

  How ironic that Ziavir described himself just like that.

  “I know you’re not him, after the incident last night, but don’t take me as a fool and try to tell me you don’t know who he is,” Lorre said.

  My breathing deepened. Lorre snarled, “I want the murderer of my partner to pay for his crimes. And I promise you I will make that happen. But Shaman’s our only hope, which means I need your help. It’s the only reason why I am doing this.”

  Then he moved to the side of the bed and unlocked my right hand from the handcuffs. He stuck the key in my free hand and said, “If we survive I expect you to keep your word to help me bring that murderer to justice.”

  Justice in Lorre’s mind would only mean one thing, the death of Shaman…my death. I nodded in agreement. I would have to cross that bridge when it came. It would be ugly…for both of us.

  Lorre sighed. In that moment I saw the evidence of a good man whose only crime had been caring too much for the people of Chicago. It made him seem old…and tired. Lorre pulled back the curtain and slipped out of the room.

  Maybe not all Nobles were the same. Just as some Outcasts were hateful and evil, some Nobles possessed kindness and goodness in them. Our differences in DNA didn’t change the fact we were both human.

  Not every person is who the world says he or she ought to be.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  After Lorre left, I waited a moment before I tore into my left hand’s handcuff with the key. In fewer than thirty seconds I was free, an odd, empty feeling. You’d think that any thief would be happy once freed from a pair of handcuffs.

  What am I getting into?

  I slipped out of the bed and gasped when the jolt of pain and stiffness hit my body. My knees buckled and I fell. I lay there, willing myself to regain composure. Slowly, after what felt like a year, the pain subsided. What remained I suppressed to force my body into action. I awkwardly stood.

  And I’m supposed to be Chicago’s savior today?

  I peeked around the room’s curtain. Two NPFC guards stood outside a glass sliding door. I assumed they had orders to stop me by any force necessary if I tried to escape that way. But a thief never takes the front door route.

  I closed the curtain and looked around the hospital room. A pair of sweatpants and an ugly green Hawaiian shirt with mustard yellow flowers lay across a green plaid chair. A burner phone from Lorre lay on top the pile of clothes. Certainly it wasn’t the most heroic attire, but anything beat a hospital gown.

  Thank you, Agent Lorre.

  I would never bet in a million years I could rely on an NPFC officer over Gabriel. But things were changing. I ripped off the gown and changed as quickly and as quietly as I could in my state of pain.

  I smiled when I looked out the room’s window to see the street four floors below me.

  The only easy day was yesterday.

  I let go of my bed sheet rope and crashed the remaining distance barefoot onto the hot mid-day asphalt road. A couple of drivers swerved at my landing and stared at me as I danced around trying to cool my burning feet. I sprinted toward the artificial grass that surrounded the hospital building and sighed deeply as the grass cooled my skin.

  Possibly my last relaxing moment. So much to do and not enough time to do it.

  I pulled out the burner phone and started to make several calls as I sprinted across the city to get to Michael’s apartment.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  I arrived outside Michael’s apartment over an hour later. I was soaked in sweat. His apartment was close to the hospital, but because every step caused me to cringe in pain and every twelfth step caused me to cramp the trip took longer. Not to mention travel slows down when madness runs in the streets.

  Chicago tore itself apart before my eyes.

  People fought all across the city. People fell into the streets beaten. Bricks flew through windows and citizens stole from each other with violent force. Fires sprouted all around the city; homes and businesses burned. The rich suffered first, pulled out onto the street by mobs of homeless people. The crowd beat them before burning their homes and murdering them. Countless bodies lay unconscious or dead in the streets.

  Panic and fear is driving everyone past their own morality!

  In fewer than four hours, Ziavir would end it all in fire and ash…and somehow I had to stop it. How? A simple walk stole my breath, and I had no idea where to find Ziavir.

  I knocked on the door to the apartment expecting the worst. Alison opened the door. She wore a pair of sweatpants and a big blue, bleach stained hoodie belonging to Chamberlain. Her eyes drooped with lack of sleep and tears streaked down her cheeks. But her eyes burned with fire.

  Alison has a wicked right hook.

  Pain exploded across my jaw as I stumbled. We stared into each other’s eyes; I was afraid to speak and she appeared to be fighting to contain her anger. Then she broke down into tears. She dove forward and wrapped her arms around me like a python. I wrapped my arms around her and whispered, “I’m so sorry. This is my fault. I’m so sorry. Is he…?”

  I lacked the heart to finish.

  She pulled away from me and said, “The doctor says he’s stable. But wh
at he really means…is that there’s nothing else the doctor can do for him here…and it’s up to Chamberlain if he pulls through or not.”

  “Can I see him?”

  I didn’t deserve to see him; we both knew that. I wouldn’t blame her if she said no. But Alison proved her kind character once again. She nodded and stepped aside to let me enter the apartment. I swallowed and stepped across the threshold, feeling like a demon entering a holy place.

  Michael’s apartment hadn’t changed since my last visit, but everything seemed a shade darker than before. I waded through the jungle of strings and papers as if chains held me back until I emerged in the small living room space.

  A good man lay dying on the couch.

  He appeared asleep, sprawled on the couch with an aura of peace around him. Everything about him seemed calm. The bloody bandages and various machines connected to him reminded me of the graver fact. Chamberlain lay upon his death bed, facing punishment for my sins. An invisible weight nearly crushed me to the floor. Tears stung where Alison had punched me.

  I saw Michael rocking back and forth in his seat, a pile of used tissues scattered at his feet. He appeared just as shattered and broken as I was. Alison moved to my side and grabbed my arm, but I never lifted my eyes off my best friend.

  A doctor moved toward Alison. I heard, “I’m sorry, but I’ve done all I can for him. All we can do is patiently wait and hope for the best.”

  “What are his chances?” I whispered. My voice cracked and sounded a thousand miles away.

  “I’m not sure. His injuries would have killed any Outcast, but his Noble genes give him an advantage here. The Noble side of him is what’s keeping him alive. But his chances of pulling through are extremely slim. He needs a miracle. However…if he does pull through…he most likely won’t be able to walk again without another miracle or serious treatment and surgery…and in his position that may be impossible for him to get.”

  I did this to a man who didn’t deserve it.