“Hey, Cowl.”
Cowl snatched a cookie off the plate and picked at a nut sticking out of the top. “Yeah?”
“You remember that project I had you working on a while back? The stuff about the Farming Tier?”
Cowl glanced back at Mom and leaned in conspiratorially. “Yeah?”
“You bury that?”
He chuckled, pulling the nut free and dropping it onto Starke’s plate. “Sure. I’m the only one who could find it, and only if I was trying. No worries. Why?”
“Think you can send that over to me?”
. “Why would you want to do that? It’s a lot of sensitive shit and if you do the wrong thing, you’ll flag the City.” Cowl frowned, keeping his voice low.
Starke stabbed a piece of chicken. “Yeah. Don’t worry. Just trust me.”
Cowl shrugged. “You know, there is a good reason why I’m the one who handles the computer stuff. You aren’t so good with it.”
Grinning, Starke rubbed a hand in Cowl’s hair. “Good thing I’ve got such a genius running my filing system.”
“Not kidding, brother.” Cowl ducked away. “Nothing’s gonna get through my AI, but your tablet is still part of the whole system and they’ll be watching to flag shit like that.”
Starke grabbed his glass and took a long drink of ice cold water. “Hey.” He set it aside. “Who takes care of you?”
Cowl grinned. “What is this?”
“I do. I take care of you. You don’t have to worry about me. Ever. Got it?”
The air in the room seemed to stiffen and Cowl’s cocky smile slipped off his features. “What’s going on?”
“I’m enjoying my birthday.” Starke plucked up one of the sugar-encrusted nuts Cowl had picked out of his cookie and popped it in his mouth, doing his best to turn up the charm. Cowl narrowed his eyes, watching Starke for a long moment before stuffing the last of his cookie into his mouth and heading towards the room where his tablet was probably stashed.
For as much as the kid loved computers, he didn’t keep the tablet connected to him when he was home. And he only rarely did any of the SIMs.
“Cookie?” Mom handed a plate overflowing with sweets to Starke. He snatched a handful and sucked in a deep breath before stuffing one into his mouth whole. Bits of chocolate and sugar crystals popped against his tongue, swimming in buttery goodness. There were just enough nuts, too. Not enough to make it fully crunchy, but just enough to add texture and a burst of flavor.
Perfection.
Clatters and bangs came from the bedroom as Cowl hunted in the mess for his tablet.
Mom set the plate on the table and leaned close to Starke. She was so beautiful. Despite the crows lines that crinkled her eyes and the gray that had settled over her temples sometime in the last couple of years, she could have been an angel. An angel in the clutches of a devil. Sorrow still lay behind her eyes. Impossible to miss.
Did tears give you wrinkles too, or had she managed to find enough laughter in life to carve the lines in her face?
“What’s going on?” she asked. “You might be the parent in this house, more often than not, but I’m still a mom and I know something is wrong.”
Starke slipped a hand behind her neck and leaned forward to place a kiss on her forehead. “I take care of you, too.”
A sad smile slipped over her lips. “I know. You do.” She straightened. “You do a good job.”
Starke stood, scooping the plate off the bar and slipped into the kitchen. Before he could go to the sink, Mom pulled the plate and cup from his hands and blocked his path with his body.
“Nope, not tonight.”
“Hey, you won’t see me complain.”
Mom slipped the dishes into the murky water and threw the dish towel in her hands back over her shoulder. “I wanted you to know,” she peered back at Starke before leaning over the sink. “I heard what happened, with your father.”
Starke’s heart skipped. She heard what? Had she known all this time? How was she taking this so calmly?
“Uh…”
“When he came by last week.”
The fear sank back into Starke’s chest. “Yeah. You were supposed to be asleep.”
Mom shook her head. “For all appearances, I don’t sleep very much.” The truth of that statement weighed her voice down.
“Still…”
She held up her hand. “Let me get this out.” She sighed deeply and turned to look Starke full in the face. The light landed on her hair like a halo. “I know I’ve not been the best mother.”
“You are amazing,” Starke said. A knot grew in his chest. It sounded like she was saying goodbye. She was, in essence, but she shouldn’t know that yet.
“I did the best I could. But what I couldn’t handle, which was a lot, I know you took care of. I never had to worry about your brother. I never had to worry about you.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, dripping off her chin.
Shit, he was going to cry too if she kept this up.
“What I’m trying to say is that you are the strongest of us all. I don’t know what I would do without you. And I’m going to keep trying. I’m going to try harder. But, I want you to know that I’m so proud of you!”
Starke ducked his head. She was proud? As shitty of a job as he’d done? All the times he’d messed things up, put Cowl in danger? All the times he’d yelled at her, treated her like shit? The messes he’d caused growing up and even now? Would she still say that if she knew what he’d done? How he’d not only failed to save the lives in danger, but how he’d gotten Dubois killed and put Cowl in the line of fire…again. That wasn’t something to be proud of.
And now he was going to leave her alone. But how could he get around that? He’d made a mess, and they were going to be the ones left to clean it up when he was just a bad memory.
He’d spent his life destroying his family’s lives. Now he was going to die and leave them with all of it. It was too late to change anything.
He should have pulled the trigger as soon as he saw Markus’ face.
“What did I say?” Mom laid a soft, water-wrinkled hand on Starke’s arm.
He shook his head, forcing that charming smile back on his face. “Nothing, Mom. You are amazing.” He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her in for what could very well be the last real hug. How did moms do that? Understand just what was going on? She might not have known why, but she knew he needed just one perfect night. One sweet goodbye. “Thank you.”
Lights out was in an hour. They would probably come tonight, and they would come soon.
Part Three: Out
Chapter One: The End of Fear
The smell of Chicken Parm hung around the apartment like a ghost of pure happiness. Starke rested his feet on the coffee table and stared at the clock, ticking slowly towards his death.
It was after ten now. After lights out. Would they still come, or would he have to wait all night like this? Mom snored softly on the VR chair, toes poking out from under the blanket she’d wrapped around herself. He should wake her up and get her in bed. But if he did, he couldn’t watch her face, placid and peaceful. Couldn’t hear the soft gasp of her breath as her chest rose and fell. Her voice echoed around in his head. Proud? She was proud.
The tablet, packed full of incriminating evidence, sat on the table beside his foot, the condemning numbers on the clock reflected in the smooth surface.
He had tucked the guns away where Cowl would know to find them, but where no guard would ever think to look. They’d have to tear down the apartment.
Cowl leaned out of the room, glancing at Mom briefly before circling around the couch to tuck his body into the curve of the other end. “So, no run tonight?”
Starke rubbed his chin, the short hair tickling his hand. “Nope. Not tonight.”
“Still worried about the guards?”
If only he knew. “Just…not tonight.”
Silence slipped back in, other than the deep breaths as Mom
curled deeper under the blanket.
The buzzer at the door went off.
That was it.
Cowl glanced at Starke, his eyebrows tugged down over his eyes. “What the hell? It’s after curfew.” He climbed up on his knees to get a view over Starke’s head as the door swung open.
Starke didn’t move. He stared at Mom’s face, watching her rub the sleep from her eyes and sit up slowly. One last look, before he broke her heart.
It didn’t last long.
“Starke Coven.”
Mom’s face tightened with fear and she scrambled to her feet, letting the blanket fall around her ankles.
Sighing, Starke stood. Cedar Penniweight, along with a younger guard Starke had often sold weed too, stood at the door. “Hello, officers.” Starke nodded to them, struggling to keep his tone even. No reason to make a scene. It would be hard enough without all that. If only he could pull out his gun and put holes in their foreheads, walk out of there and just disappear.
“Mr. Coven, you are under arrest.”
The younger one hovered in the doorway, his eyes caught on his shoes. Maybe he was worried about getting called out, not that it would hurt his career at all.
“Under arrest? Why?” Mom stepped forward, blocking the guards. “What for? He didn’t do anything, he’s been here with me all night.”
“This is shit!” Cowl climbed off the couch. “Complete shit. You have absolutely nothing on him.”
Cedar shook his head. “We aren’t required to read you the charges, Ma’am, Sir.”
As he spoke, he slowly pulled a pair of buzz cuffs from his belt. Why had those never looked so intimidating before?
“Mom.” Starke slipped a hand over her shoulder. Shit, what was he supposed to say to make this better? There wasn’t anything. Lies? Those were only good for so long. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Mom turned a horrified look on him. “Nothing? This isn’t nothing! I demand to know. What do you want with my son?”
The younger guard, the druggie, stepped forward, silencing his partner with a shove. “Don’t worry, Miss. We have a few questions is all. We are just covering our bases.”
“Then why aren’t you asking him politely to come? Why are you arresting him? Why are you putting him in cuffs?” Tears started pouring down her cheeks.
Starke grabbed her shoulders, turning her to look in his eyes. Shit. Who knew grief could hurt this bad? “Mom. Don’t worry. Really. I’ll take care of it, ok?”
Cowl rubbed his hands on his pant legs, staring at Starke wide-eyed.The way his hand jerked made it clear that he wanted to grab his gun. Aw, shit, he wasn’t packing was he? He was just acting on instinct. It was hard to tell. Hadn’t he already tucked the shotgun away, though?
“Hey. Just stay here. Take care of Cowl.” Starke locked eyes with Cowl as he spoke.
He’d never dealt with one of Mom’s dark times. Could he handle this? It was too late to even think about that.
Cowl stepped forward and slipped his hands around Mom’s arms. “Don’t worry. This is Starke we’re talking about. He’s going to be fine.” He drew Mom back towards the chairs. Judging by the look he gave Starke, believed what he was saying, too. Somehow, he thought Starke would come back. The confidence, hero worship, shone in his eyes.
Not this time, little brother.
Cedar picked up Starke’s tablet. “This yours?” he asked.
Not daring to look at Cowl, Starke nodded.
“I’m sorry.” Cedar’s voice was hushed as he took Starke’s arm and slipping the wide cuffs in place. They were oddly warm and comfortable. Not at all what he imagined. Fear made everything seem worse, right? Maybe it was the same with death. Maybe death wasn’t so bad.
“No. No…Please don’t take him.” Mom sobbed now, tears running in rivers down the face where a smile had rested not so long ago. “Please. We need him. You don’t understand.”
Starke struggled to drag in breath as his chest split in half. What was he thinking? She wasn’t going to survive this.
“Mom. It’s ok. Mom.” Cowl wrapped his arms around Mom’s shoulders and chest, rocking her like a child.
“Shit. Get me out of here.” Starke fought back the wave of tears that beat inside his skull. He couldn’t let her see him cry. Even if it was a lie, let her put her trust in him for just a few more hours.
Cedar complied, heading towards the door. He kept one hand on Starke’s elbow, but never pushed him. Starke ground his teeth, trying to block out Mom’s sobs and pleas as the door shut behind him. The hallway was dark, only the white light around the edge of the screens shining on the curved walls.
The air out here didn’t want to comply with his lungs, rushing in sharp jolts as he struggled with it. A few tears, hot as fire, slipped down his cheek and he rubbed them away as quickly as he could on his shoulder. Not entirely efficient, but better than sobbing like a child.
“I take it you know what’s going on here?” Cedar asked as the younger one fell behind them, hand resting on his firearm.
“I take it you don’t need any more evidence?”
Cedar shook his head. “No.”
This hall always seemed longer before, like it stretched around the whole world. In many ways it did, at least around the most important part of it. The elevator slid open with a soft, soothing tone, letting the light flood out. Why was everything so calm? He was walking to his death. Wasn’t there supposed to be more? More panic? More fear? More ;anything?
He’d rather feel afraid than bear this soul-splintering sorrow. The memories of Mom’s face, flashing behind his eyes every time he blinked. Cowl, the confidence as he looked back at Starke, as if he were expecting Starke to take flight right there and blast through the danger with laser eyes.
What would happen to them without him? He’d taken care of them for so long.
As the elevator climbed upward, towards the forbidden upper levels, Starke did his best to imagine their life without him. Would Mom be able to get out of bed? Would she be able to go to work? Cowl was still just a kid. Smart and resourceful, yes, but he was a teenager. He wasn’t ready to be the man of the house. Would Mom take care of him, or would he have to take care of her?
The elevator slid to a stop without so much as a stutter, and the doors slid open, again with the pleasant “bing”. The lights were on up here. The hall didn’t look much different than below. Polished black tile. The gentle curve where the wall met the ceiling. The screens there had no sky portrayed on them. Only a bright, stern light.
Starke watched his shoes hit the tile underfoot, the light glinting off the shined black surface so he could almost pretend he was walking on water. In the back of his head, Mom’s cries still echoed. They probably would for the last few hours of his life. If he lived forever, he could probably never wash them out.
The younger guard ducked under the doorframe of an unmarked door and let the light flash. He gave his Cedar a look that seemed far too meaningful for the circumstances and pushed the door open.
Chapter Two: Consequences
Trying to push aside the crushing fear, Starke stepped past the at-attention guards and into the room. A single table sat in the center of the white-walled, cramped room. On the far side of the table, a middle aged man pushed thick, black hair out of his eyes and motioned to the seat across from him.
“Please, Mr. Coven, have a seat.”
Starke had never hated his last name before. It was his and it was Cowl’s, it didn’t matter much that he shared it with Markus. That was before. Now, the very sound of it made bile rise in his throat. He lay his cuffed hands on the table and carefully sat down.
“Do I need to wait in line for execution?” he asked, studying the man before him. He wasn’t familiar. Maybe he did most of his work up here, kept to himself when he was off. “You guys have been busy lately.”
The guard leaned back in his chair. The beginnings of a beard, the kind that was carefully manicured to look like a five o’c
lock shadow, added some dimension to his face. If it weren’t for that he wouldn’t have much of a chin to speak of.
“It seems you are already quite aware of the seriousness of your situation,” he said. “I’m Lucian Monroe. It’s my job to offer you your last chance.”
Starke cocked his head. “No, it’s your job to get as much information from me as possible before you pull the trigger.”
Monroe smiled, a predatory type of smile that looked out of place on a guy who, though probably a good foot taller than him, had hardly any muscle mass to speak of. In a fair fight, the man was about as far from “predatory” as he could get.
“You are a smart man, Mr. Coven. But I do like to think that I’m a man of my word, so I still have something to offer you.”
Starke studied the cuffs on his wrists and grinned. “I’m actually not. But I am well-informed, and one can look a lot like the other.” The tension in the room hummed, or was that the lights overhead? Either way, this man wasn’t getting anything. Hopefully they would realize it fast and just get on with it. “For instance, I know that you’ve already killed or exiled just about anyone I could throw under the bus in hopes of walking free.”
“With a threat of this magnitude, we couldn’t afford to be anything but thorough. And we did quite a good job, if I do say so myself.”
“You head it up?” Starke asked.
Monroe nodded.
“Yeah, you did a bang up job. Killed your own men for no reason. You do know that the only thing that Dubois and I trade in is expensive collectables, right? Some alcohol.” Sure, Dubois was probably dead already, but it was worth the chance. If they hadn’t vented him yet, he could use a good word. “I got that info from the underground. Nothing whatsoever to do with Dubois.”
Monroe raised an eyebrow and wrote something on his notepad. “Oh, so how do you know about the arrest?”
Starke ran his finger over a scratch on the metal table. What had happened there? Was it the result of an interrogation gone violent? Did they occasionally torture people or was it all just coercion, bribes and swift deaths? It’s not like anyone could get away, anyway. They were all, in the end, prisoners.
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