by Lizzy Ford
Unable to face another night of visions, he prowled the city streets as he and Warner used to do when bored. The weight of the city’s impending doom was made heavier by the knowledge he had been all but ordered by his father to leave in the morning.
In a few hours, when dawn broke, Arthur was expected to be sitting atop the horse he road into the city, ready to obey his father’s command, and find his sister.
But if he left … there would be no city to return to. His visions left him no doubt as to the fate of everything around him.
If he stayed, he would have to defy his father.
No one who ever openly opposed his father had survived the day.
Ingram had not contacted him again, and his hope of finding support in Marshall’s allies had faded with the sunset this day.
Dressed in black, and wearing a mask, Arthur crouched on top of a building to peer at the damage done to part of the city by his father. No one could explain what his father was doing, or why he set parts of certain buildings on fire and not the entire ward. His father’s council had rebuffed Arthur’s attempts at conversation. It was not entirely because of Arthur assuming Tiana’s position as the rejected Hanover child.
It was fear. He had seen it in their eyes. The meetings and gatherings inside the pyramid held the same dead air surrounding the burnt, collapsed buildings of the city. No one would so much as whisper insight into what his father was doing or planning.
I cannot leave the city until I am certain it is safe, Arthur thought again and rose. As his father’s original heir, he had the importance of preserving the city drilled into him from a young age. His father had burnt many a person in his time leading the city, but he had never attacked the city itself.
What made him turn on it? The mercurial Hanover leader was becoming the largest threat facing the city four hundred years of predecessors had strived to protect.
Arthur could not ignore what his visions were telling him. His father would decimate everything.
Arthur paced restlessly before nimbly scaling down the building to stand in the quiet street whose lampposts had been likewise destroyed.
How did he stop Edwin without allies among the powerful? It was not as simple as facing one man – but one man whose deformities granted him an unknown amount of unnatural power in addition to all the people who would back him out of fear.
“How does one man save a city?” Arthur whispered to the ashes he faced. He could not ever recall being helpless. His whole life, he had been the Hanover heir and commanded respect, power and loyalty by virtue of his birth.
Alone, he began to understand the enormity of a task leading the city truly was. It took a different kind of power than being born in the right household. It took courage and compassion and allies. His father, mad as he was, deserved admiration for managing and protecting a city that would have perished long ago, even if his draconian measures lacked consideration for the life of his people.
Did his father’s lack of compassion make it easier to lead? If he were not concerned about preserving life but the city as a whole, no matter how many people had to die?
Arthur did not know the right answer, just as he struggled to find any solution to curtailing the danger the city faced.
Over and over, he drew the same conclusion. He could not leave. The visions were too strong, lingering long after they should have, for him to dare leave his father alone with the city.
But what difference would it make if Arthur remained and could not stop his father?
Tired of arguing with himself over the impossible problem, Arthur turned away from the destruction and started towards the other side of the city and his home. The only good he saw in his situation was that his lover, sister and Marshall were safe outside the city. If he could not stop his father, or ended up imprisoned or dead, those he cared about would have a better chance of surviving on their own among Natives that resented them than facing Edwin Hanover and his strange power.
The rest of Lost Vegas would suffer, though.
Arthur sighed.
By the time he reached his home, it was close to midnight. He removed his mask before emerging from the shadows of the street leading to the great pyramid and tucked it in a pocket. The Shield members greeted him quietly, but none of the elite residents of the outer city would look him in the eye when he passed them. Before Arthur headed towards the elevator that would take him to his apartment, his faithful slave, George, moved to intercept him.
“Sir, there is a matter requiring your attention,” George said brusquely.
“From the friend I had you visit yesterday?”
George nodded.
“What does he say?” Arthur asked eagerly.
George hesitated. “Will you follow me, sir?” he asked.
Arthur nodded.
The slave led him out of the pyramid and into the night. He paused in the shadows of a stack of crates containing food that were being unloaded from several carts.
The normally unflappable slave lifted a black piece of cloth, his cheeks red. “Forgive me, sir. I did not want to agree, but they insisted.”
“Paranoid, are they not?” Arthur took the hood with a smile, hoping to reassure his slave. “I will do what I must,” he said and slid it over his head. “Lead on, George.”
“Wait here.”
Arthur obeyed. George left his side. Moments later, a horse nuzzled Arthur’s arm. He touched its face briefly before someone spoke.
“Mount, please,” Ingram directed quietly.
Arthur obeyed.
Ingram took his reins and led him away from the pyramid. The sounds of movement gradually disappeared. Arthur listened and timed their travels. They made two turns, crossed the paths of few people, and generally rode straight away from the pyramid. He was able to identify the moment they left the city by the change in the sounds of the horses’ hooves on the ground. The city bore cobblestone and dirt streets; the roads leading out of Lost Vegas were a mix of stone, gravel and dirt.
When he assessed they were safe, he addressed the conspirator. “I expected to hear from you sooner,” Arthur said.
“We had to verify parts of your story,” Ingram replied. “We are cautious.”
“As well you should be,” he agreed. “Should I take this journey outside the city as a sign you have decided in my favor? Or are we headed to my execution?”
After a pause, Ingram spoke again, this time from beside Arthur instead of in front. “Your account of what occurs beyond our city appears to be truthful. We are unable to verify whether or not Marshall lives, but our leader has chosen to act after the events of the past week.”
“Leader. Are you not the third most powerful man in Lost Vegas?” Arthur mused. “Who would a man like you answer to?”
Ingram did not answer.
“When will I meet your co-conspirators?” Arthur prodded.
“You will meet one now.” An amused note was in Ingram’s voice. “Though I doubt you will thank me for it.”
Arthur did not know how to take the statement. “I am supposed to leave tomorrow morning. Has your leader taken this into account?” he asked. “I cannot oppose my father’s command.”
“We are aware. Through our other channels, we learned your father intends to send four of his personal Shield guards with you tomorrow morning. They have one order, and it is not to escort you to the forest.”
Arthur understood the possibility of his father turning on him, but the words still fell like blows. He shifted atop the horse, struggling with his emotions. From cherished heir to ignored nobody, he had plummeted in worth in his father’s eyes in a matter of days. Knowing his father’s cruelty, should he experience the sense of loss yawning open at his core? Should he yearn for his father’s acceptance?
“I am sorry, Tiana,” he murmured under his breath. He had never understood her pain in being rejected, or why she always asked him about their father each time they spoke. He shook his head. “I do not intend to die tomorrow.”
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“We agree. But we think your father needs to believe you are dead, in order for you to help us,” Ingram said. “Ride out as planned tomorrow morning. There is but one route towards the north. We will arrange for your group to come under attack by Native allies before the Shield members can execute their orders. You will be dead in name, with your father’s guards as witnesses.”
Arthur listened.
“You will then secretly return to the city afterwards and work with us to overthrow your father.”
While effective, it was not the greatest plan Arthur had ever heard. His instincts bespoke of no danger from Ingram and blared with danger whenever he thought of his father. Ingram, and his co-conspirators, had everything to fear from the failure of their plan, including the loss of their families. They were taking a risk in trusting Arthur, let alone saving him.
Arthur’s vision played through his mind. “I have no choice,” he said. “The city is doomed. I cannot leave it in the hands of my father. Of this, I am certain. My visions kept me awake all night.”
“The same you shared with me?”
“Yes. Absolute destruction.”
“What of your sister?”
“What of her?” Arthur kept his tone neutral.
“Have you seen her in this vision?”
“No.”
Ingram was quiet again. He slowed his horse and then stopped both of their mounts. “Your sister is believed to be cooperating with the Natives. Are you aware of this?”
Arthur shook his head but was not surprised by the news. He could not imagine what the Natives wanted from Tiana, unless she was as powerful as Ingram seemed to think she was. In that case, everyone could find a use for her, and she was too naïve to know her own danger.
Not for the first time, he silently thanked Aveline for being present to help his sister.
Ingram’s original plan – to pit father and son against one another in the hopes Arthur won – returned to Arthur’s thoughts. Was there a chance Tiana was the key, since she was believed to have inherited his father’s much speculated about powers? Was that why Arthur’s initial visions had been of his sister in danger? Why his father was chasing Tiana through a field in the latest version? Why the Natives wanted her help?
He did not trust Ingram enough yet to voice his thoughts.
Ingram dismounted. “Come down,” he told Arthur.
Arthur obeyed and waited. He heard the nickering of other horses and assessed they were no longer alone.
Ingram removed the hood, and Arthur blinked to focus in the night. Ingram stepped aside to reveal a man whose features were familiar but whose face was not. Half a dozen other men, wearing all black to include hoods to hide their faces, stood behind horses behind the stranger. Arthur studied the man, uncertain why he felt he should know him. His hair was the same shade of blond-red as Arthur’s, his blue eyes as well. He was older, in his fifties, seasoned by the sun with leathery skin, tall and sporting a fighter’s build.
Ingram had brought Arthur outside the city and behind a nearby hill. They were invisible from the road and city yet close enough for the Native scouts watching the city to remain at a distance.
“Arthur, I would like you to meet Simon Hanover,” Ingram said quietly.
“Hanover,” Arthur repeated. He studied the stranger, suddenly understanding why he appeared familiar. Simon bore the same features as Arthur – and Edwin. “Uncle Simon Hanover who died from poisoning shortly after I was born?”
“That was the rumor,” Simon replied. “As a general rule, a Hanover will not kill another Hanover. But we will hire someone else to do it for us. Every once in a while, an assassin fails. Or is paid off.”
Arthur was speechless, disbelieving.
“We do not have much time,” Simon said and closed the distance between them. He motioned Ingram to step back, and spoke in a low voice for Arthur alone to hear. “It seems the Cruises were right. I spent years tracking a skinwalker to kidnap you, and all I had to do was ask for a meeting.” His smile was fleeting. “I wanted to look you in the eye so I knew you were serious about betraying your father.”
Arthur shifted. “You hired the skinwalker,” he said, recalling Black Wolf’s claim.
“I did. I ordered an assassination on your sister as well.”
“And you are plotting to murder my father.” Arthur did not know what to think. A man who should not exist was leading a silent rebellion against his father.
“I am. Do you agree to help us?”
Arthur heard the dangerous note in his uncle’s voice, the one that told him Simon Hanover was not beyond murdering his own kin. “My goal is to save the city,” he replied slowly. “Whatever form that takes, I will support. But it is my city, and I will not let it suffer any longer. If you intend to replace my father, then I will not hesitate to dispose of you as well.”
Simon held his gaze. The two stared each other down, while Ingram shifted away, lest they resorted to violence.
“Arthur,” Simon said. “I do not want the city. I want to stop the madness that runs in our family. I have heard from many people you will make a strong leader.”
“Then why did you bring me here? Why not approach me in the city?”
“Because I cannot enter the city. Your father’s power prevents me.”
“He knows you are alive?”
“Initially, he believed me to be dead. I survived on my own, outside the city, for several years, before he figured out I was alive. I made friends of the Natives and have been hiding among them. A failed assassination attempt alerted my brother. I have not been able to move as freely since then.”
Arthur glanced at Ingram. “What do you want, if not the city itself?”
“I told you.”
Arthur raised his eyebrows. “No one goes to this extent, and risks the lives of so many people, to walk away benevolently when it is over. There must be a reward in it for you.”
“Spoken like a true Hanover,” Simon said with a smile that did not reach his eyes. “We will discuss more later. For now, we will work together towards our common goal.”
Arthur recognized deception when he saw it. “What of my sister?” he asked quietly. “What is your plan for her?”
“That will depend upon your sister and the actions she takes. If she behaves like a Hanover, she will be treated like a Hanover.”
Although Tiana had never once behaved like a true Hanover, Arthur could not stop the churning in his stomach. The man before him was as dangerous as Edwin.
“Do you share my father’s abilities?” he ventured.
“I do not. I share yours, or deformities similar to yours in their extent,” Simon answered. “We are the lesser sons, the Hanover’s that do not normally survive.”
Arthur sensed this was the truth.
“Go. Before your father notices your absence, or Ingram’s.” His uncle moved away towards the horse awaiting him. “You do not trust me, Arthur, and I do not blame you. You will tomorrow morning, after you see how we work. The Natives will help us stage your death.”
Or they will kill me, Arthur added silently.
No part of him trusted his uncle completely. What choice did he have? This plan was the only one that might allow him to live long enough to save the city and reunite with Tiana. For now, it would have to be enough that he shared a goal with Simon, and that Simon hated his brother enough to try to depose him.
Arthur would take the political high road and play along, until Simon showed his true hand.
Unsettled by all he had learned, suspecting his sister was in great danger from Simon and Edwin, Arthur mounted his horse and rode with Ingram back to the city. His thoughts reeling and instincts fluttering between alarm and acceptance, he said nothing to his companion as they sneaked along secondary streets towards the pyramid.
“Is Marshall really safe with the Natives?” Ingram asked when they reached the stables.
“Are the Natives not your allies?” Arthur retorted.
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��They are your uncle’s allies. I have little experience dealing with them. Marshall risked his life to sway you. I would like to know not all the Cruises have been sacrificed.”
Whenever Arthur thought of Marshall, he was torn between guilt and regret. Marshall had lost everything in his pursuit of Arthur, and Arthur had nothing to offer in return but the reality of what his father had done to the Cruises. Why had Arthur not listened to him sooner? How had he ever chosen to ignore the horrors his father unleashed upon everyone in the city?
“He is safe. The Natives are awaiting the ransom I promised for him,” Arthur confirmed. “Whose plan was it to murder my sister?”
Ingram was quiet for a moment. “Simon’s.”
“And whose was it to try to recruit me?”
“Marshall’s.”
Arthur felt sick to his stomach. Marshall’s compassion, and devotion to non-violent politics, ran deeper than Arthur had ever suspected.
Nothing I can ever do will make things right for him, he thought.
“We are finishing the planning for tomorrow and will send word in the morning before you leave,” Ingram said.
Arthur nodded. Distraught, certain he could not sleep after tonight’s revelations, he turned away from his home with the intention of roaming the city again.
A scream froze him in place. It came from inside the pyramid and pierced the night to float for blocks in each direction. An involuntary shiver ran through Arthur. He turned around to gaze up at the pyramid.
It was not a human scream. Neither was it an animal’s roar.
It was something in between – and familiar.
Skinwalker. His instincts answered before he could search them for what it was. He and Marshall both had heard that horrible sound on more than one occasion when they were trailing the skinwalker through the forest.
“Find shelter,” he said to Ingram and bolted towards the pyramid.
Confused members of the elite were milling in the entrances and ground floor. The Shield had yet to react – and why would they? Arthur alone understood the danger and source of the sound.