His free hand moving with speed the child had never seen, Father took the boy by the throat and lifted him effortlessly off the ground. Then, drawing the dagger with his other hand, Father brought its tip to within an inch of his son’s eye as that glow in his own gaze grew more intense.
“Is this what you wanted?” Father boomed. “Is this what you were trying to snatch away from me, you little whelp? Well why don’t you take it now?”
The boy could not answer. Between the hand holding his throat so tightly he could hardly breathe and the debilitating fear gripping his entire being, he was completely paralyzed. From inside the cabinet, the younger brother dared to peek out once more, and now looked on in frozen terror.
“Well, boy? Answer me! Is this what you wanted? Why don’t you take it?” Father’s rage was growing with each syllable. “Why don’t you take it!” With those last two words, he drew back the dagger and plunged it to the hilt in his son’s right side, just below his ribcage. The boy’s mouth fell open as a mixture of shock and unprecedented pain invaded his small body. His little brother had to clasp both hands over his mouth to hold back his screams.
Then, as quickly as it pierced him, the dagger was withdrawn. Father dropped the boy on the floor and stumbled backwards, crushing pieces of broken glass beneath his heels. He blinked a couple of times, and the violet glow in his eyes dissipated, returning them to their normal shade of blue. He looked down at his son, but he seemed suddenly dazed, disoriented.
“Clean yourself up,” he said absently, as if talking to himself. “Find your brother and get this mess cleaned up.” With that, he stepped over his son and headed downstairs. Father had virtually no working knowledge of human anatomy, especially in his perplexed state. He had no idea that his son was already starting to bleed out.
As soon as Father was gone, the younger boy burst form his hiding place and crawled over to his brother. The older boy cried out weakly as the younger tried to pull him into his lap, but only managed to place his head there.
“He stabbed you! I can’t believe he stabbed you! Can you move?”
The older brother was beginning to sweat profusely, but he felt terribly cold. “I’m tired,” he said, barely above a whisper.
“But I have to help you first,” the younger brother said. “I have to patch your hurts, like you always do for me. Then we can nap. Father always lets us nap after lessons, right? We just have to get you to bed and you’ll be better later, right?” His voice was cracking.
“I don’t think I can get up,” the older brother said, and his eyes began to drift closed.
The younger boy shook him violently, and his eyes snapped back open. “You can’t go to sleep here. You have to get up so we can fix you. Please, get up!” Tears were flowing freely down his cheeks now, and he was quivering terribly.
The older brother, however, was no longer crying. “You have to do something for me,” he said hoarsely.
“Anything. You’re my big brother. I have to do what you say.”
“You have to be strong. Be strong, but don’t be afraid to hide. Hide until you can grow up big and run far away. Promise me you’ll do that.” His eyelids were very heavy now, and the oil lamps seemed to have faded. All he could see was his little brother’s frightened face.
“But I need you so I can be strong!” the younger boy wailed. “You have to teach me how! You teach me how to do everything!”
“I can’t teach you…you have to…yourself…know you can…”
“Please stay awake…” the younger boy pleaded.
“…I’m tired…” the older murmured.
“…Please…” the younger whimpered.
With the last of his strength, the older rubbed the younger’s forearm softly. “I love you, baby brother,” he whispered. Then his eyes slipped closed and his hand fell away as blackness enveloped him completely.
ELEVEN
I
“The Enforcers in the Crimson Hollow district aren’t turning up a thing, sir.”
Christopher was standing at a window on the top floor of the palace’s north tower, which offered a beautiful view of the glowing city spread out across the night’s hushed landscape. But down in the streets, it wasn’t hushed in the least. Every Enforcer in Chicane was on patrol tonight, working elbow-to-elbow with nearly all the palace guards. They were digging through every inch of this city looking for young Amelie and her unidentified abductor. And the one man who knew that they would not be found here was the same man who had been orchestrating the search for the last three hours.
His mind drifted just left of nowhere as a young lead guard named Nikolai was trying to speak to him.
“Christopher, sir? Did you hear me?” He reached out timidly to touch his commander’s shoulder, but withdrew his hand as Christopher turned to him.
“I did, Nik. I apologize. I’m just…preoccupied,” Christopher said. He appeared weary but alert.
Nikolai nodded. “I’m sorry, sir. I know this must be a difficult position for you to be in. Everyone here knows that you are quite fond of Ms. Lamoureux.”
“Amelie,” Christopher whispered. He rubbed his cheek thoughtfully.
“I’m sorry, sir?”
Christopher shook his head. “Nothing, Nik. Yes, I am fond of Amelie, as we all are, which is why we’re not going to stop working until she’s found.”
“No one plans to, sir,” Nikolai said adamantly.
“Good. Now I know the Enforcers aren’t pleased about cooperating with the palace guards. How is that working down there?”
“Well enough. They are doing what they need to be doing without enough argument to cause any hindrance.”
“Glad to hear it. Now head back out and tell all the unit leaders to look harder. Start turning over inn rooms if necessary. I want this city picked through by dawn.
“And if she’s not in the city anymore, sir?”
“We’ve sent word to Maple City Patrol, but it won’t be safe to comb the woods until sunup. We all care about Amelie, but I’ll not needlessly risk lives.” Christopher noticed a look of concern on Nikolai’s face. “We’ll get her back, Nik. I promise.”
Nikolai nodded, seeming somewhat comforted by his leader’s words. “I’ll get back out there then, sir.” He turned to head back down the tower’s stone steps.
“One more thing, Nik.”
He paused and looked back. “Sir?”
Christopher touched his ear and nodded towards the doorway.
Nikolai leaned back and glanced down the stairwell, then nodded to Christopher and stepped closer to him.
“Omicron, monarch, two, centigrade,” Christopher whispered.
Nikolai’s eyes widened and he was momentarily speechless. He shook it off quickly though. “Team?”
“Thomas, Jasmine, and Morris, but only if you absolutely must tell them. No one else. Henrik is compromised, and others may be as well.”
Nik nodded. “Delivery?”
“Hopewell, twelve-hundred, ladybug.”
“Yes, sir,” Nik said dutifully, and turned back towards the door.
“If I’m absent come dawn…” Christopher said.
Nik paused in his tracks, and nodded once. “Understood, sir.”
“Good. Dismissed. And be safe.”
“You too, Christopher.”
As Nikolai’s footsteps echoed down the stone stairway, Christopher returned to the window, looking out over the city once more. The code system was something he had hoped would never be necessary, but now he was feeling a wash of relief that he had devised it in the first place. Only Nik and the other guards Christopher had named knew the code. Besides being the highest-ranking guards under him, they were also friends to Christopher, people he trusted implicitly. They were his go-to team in an event like this.
The code was made up of four values: a Greek letter, denoting a specific hostile situation; a species of butterfly, indicating the status of one or more royal family member; a number or numbers, indicating which
member or members of the family the status applied to; and a unit of measurement, which gave immediate orders to be carried out. The combinations were too numerous to list, but the sequence Christopher had just relayed to Nik translated as follows: centigrade meant increase security and hold positions; monarch two meant Amelie was in a safe place with a rendezvous plan; and omicron—the one Christopher’s team had always called him paranoid for—meant that a Calderwood had betrayed the house of Lamoureux.
It never sat well with Christopher how transactional the marriage of Richard Lamoureux and Marietta Calderwood had been. Though he had seen no evidence to make him directly suspicious of the woman or her son, he strongly believed in being prepared for any contingency. He couldn’t say he was particularly happy about being right.
Christopher glanced at his watch, then paid the cityscape one last look before heading downstairs. He was due to brief Michael himself in thirty minutes, a meeting he had been greatly apprehensive of until he was able to speak with Nikolai. At least now he could be somewhat at ease knowing that Nik had been given the details of the rendezvous at Hopewell Cemetery. Should anything happen to him, someone would still be there for Amelie. But Christopher was going to do everything in his power to make sure he could greet young Ms. Lamoureux himself…even if that meant getting Michael Calderwood’s blood on his own two hands.
II
“Your failures are trying my patience, Cleric.”
Michael sat at the head of the long cherry wood table in the palace’s second-floor conference room. His hands were resting on the tabletop, and between his right thumb and forefinger was his medal of Saint Monica, which he rubbed incessantly. His disappointed gaze was set across the room where Cleric was leaning against the far corner of the table, slowly drawing a small knife through a large red apple.
“Failures?” Cleric scoffed. “I haven’t failed once, let alone repeatedly. This situation with your stepsister is a setback, but one that will be rectified in short order. And the Construct is back on schedule, set to be completed before daybreak.” He popped a sliver of apple into his mouth.
“Perhaps,” Michael said, “but it will all be for nothing if your pet doesn’t find the Catalyst in time, and now we’re forced to split its attention to help us find Amelie so you can finish the job your specialist failed to.”
Cleric took his time chewing, enjoying the fact that Michael’s grip on his religious trinket grew tighter with each passing second. Finally, he swallowed, cleared his throat, and said, “I don’t know how I can explain this again in a way you will finally understand. The Visgaer doesn’t find things by deducing where they are; it helps keep us on the right course of events such that we will find the Catalyst on our own. Even with this unexpected development, the Visgaer assures me that we will have the Catalyst in our possession by midday tomorrow.”
“Yes, well, forgive me if I don’t share your confidence,” Michael said. “You gave me similar assurance that your employee would select a suitable specialist, and we see where that has gotten us. I trust that he has been dealt with firmly?”
Cleric touched the tabletop with the tip of his knife and eyed Michael. “How I handle my employees is none of your concern. He exercised poor judgment, but he will more than make up for it when he assists me in finishing the job you hired me to do, as well as taking care of the failed specialist.”
“For your sake, I certainly hope so,” Michael said.
Cleric chuckled and resumed slicing his apple. “That almost sounded like a threat. I hope you don’t think this changes my fee any. I will finish the job, so I expect you to come through with payment, otherwise you and I will—”
Michael held up a hand. “Spare me the menacing speech. I am a man of my word. If you smooth this bump in the road and our efforts continue as planned, you will be provided with all the men and weaponry you need to deal with this General you so desperately seek.”
Cleric opened his mouth to speak, but Michael cut him off once more.
“I’m not finished!” For a moment, his fingers shook from squeezing the medal so hard. Then, he abruptly pocketed it, cleared his throat, and rested his hands with interlaced fingers on the table. When he spoke again, his calm demeanor had returned. “You underestimate me, Cleric. Though I may be young and inexperienced with the matters in which you specialize, I am not a fool, and you don’t intimidate me. Would you like to know why?”
“Enlighten me,” Cleric said, his voice taut.
“Because you’re operating under the assumption that if this job goes awry, you can cut your losses—perhaps kill me in the process—and just continue hiding from the General while you figure out a new way to deal with him. But there is the troublesome matter of the envelope.”
Cleric knew Michael was waiting for him to ask ‘what envelope’, but he refused to indulge the child. He simply popped another sliver of apple into his mouth and began chewing, waiting for Michael to continue.
Michael sighed and went on. “This envelope is packed full of all the information about you I’ve been able to gather since we started our dealings. If you fail in the duties I have hired you for, or if any harm comes to me, that envelope will be hand-delivered to the General himself within a day’s time. So you see, Cleric, if you live up to the reputation that made me decide to hire you in the first place, you will get everything we agreed upon. But if you do not, there won’t be a place in Ayenee you can hide from your enemy. Do I make myself clear?”
“Unmistakably,” Cleric muttered.
“Good,” Michael said, then pulled his pocket watch from inside his suit coat. “The guard Christopher is due here any moment.” He rose from his seat and put the watch away. “Last chance to decide. Are you completely certain in your belief that he was involved in helping Amelie and your specialist escape?”
“Without a doubt,” Cleric said. “If he hadn’t been helping her, she would have killed him.”
“She?” Michael asked incredulously.
“You know, I can only imagine how many people expressed that same sort of disbelief right before she put a bullet in them,” Cleric mused.
Then there was a knock at the door.
III
“Come!” Michael called.
Christopher opened one of the conference room’s double doors and stepped inside. He paid Michael little more than a passing glance before giving Cleric a much more thorough sizing up. The mere imposing presence of the man caused Christopher to unconsciously hook his thumb into his belt next to the holstered revolver there, a movement that did not go unnoticed by Cleric. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Calderwood?”
“I did, Christopher,” Michael said. He made his way around the long table, buttoning his suit jacket as he walked. “I wanted to introduce you to Cleric here. He’s a private investigator who has done some work for me in the past, and I’ve brought him in to help with the search for Amelie.”
Christopher couldn’t help noticing that Michael stopped his approach just out of arm’s reach. It took nearly all of the guard’s self-control to keep from lunging for the little shit and throttling him right then and there. “If you don’t mind me asking, sir, in what capacity will Mr. Cleric be helping exactly?”
“Well, he will begin by taking your account of events again. We want to see if you might be able to recall anything you may have overlooked the first time through.”
Christopher glanced at Cleric, who held his position across the room, still working on his apple. He was chewing thoughtfully, regarding the two of them with almost passive indifference. “With all due respect, sir,” Christopher said, looking back to Michael, “I don’t have time for that, and you don’t have the authority to order it of me.”
“I beg your pardon?” Michael asked, quirking a brow.
“No one informed you?” Christopher asked. “Upon hearing the news of Amelie’s abduction, Lord Lamoureux immediately declared a state of guardianship authority, which means I presently command everyone under this roof…even you, si
r. Now, if you’d like to take that up with the Lord, then—”
“Apparently you are the one who is uninformed,” Michael interjected. “Richard slipped into unconsciousness less than an hour ago. The nurses tell me his vital signs are so weak that they expect him to pass before daybreak.”
Christopher felt like he’d taken a blow to the stomach. “I…I just spoke with him. He was awake and completely alert.”
Michael sighed and gave a small shrug. “Sometimes these things happen quickly. Henrik was there to see it and he said it all happened very fast.”
“Henrik…” Christopher whispered.
“Yes. But with Richard incapacitated and Amelie absent, control of Chicane has fallen to me, and I am immediately rescinding guardianship author—”
Before he even knew what was happening, Michael found the side of his face pressed against the tabletop, Christopher’s hand squeezing the back of his neck tightly, and the barrel of a revolver digging into his right temple. “Cleric!” he croaked.
“Don’t look at me,” Cleric said nonchalantly, not moving a muscle except to draw his knife once more through his apple. “I’m surprised he let you prattle on as long as he did.”
“Keep your hands where I can see them,” Christopher warned Cleric, whose only response was to pop the apple piece into his mouth. Yanking Michael back up straight, Christopher said, “You’re going to back up with me towards the door, and you’d do well not to move much. This pistol has a very sensitive trigger.”
“Cleric, do something!” Michael blurted, prompting a gruff shake from Christopher.
“Keep your mouth shut,” he warned. They began backing towards the double doors.
“I don’t know what you expect me to do,” Cleric said with apple in his cheek. “You got yourself into this.”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing, Cleric. Stay right there,” Christopher said. Then, to Michael, “And you, we’re going to turn to our left and you’re going to open the door on the right. Slowly.”
The Crimes of Orphans Page 16