by Kyle Prue
“How’d you do?” Rhys asked, cocking his head to the side curiously. “The twins and I have been waiting to hear, and—”
Neil brushed past him and started down the narrow staircase. Rhys followed and called after him. “Calm down. I don’t think he expected you to be able to do it anyway.” Rhys’s voice was always soft, but at the same time filled with energy and intelligence.
“Comforting,” Neil mocked, stopping to glare back at him and then continuing through the entry hall to one of the corridors that stretched even farther underground.
Rhys kept up, but just barely. “He shouldn’t have sent you. Your advanced abilities haven’t even developed yet.”
“Easy for you to say, Rhys. Maybe Father thinks he can’t wait … I may never develop advanced abilities.”
Rhys tried to grab Neil’s arm, “You can’t compare yourself to me. You know it’s different. I suffered a major trauma. You said yourself that maybe I got them so early because of that traumatic event.”
“This conversation is a traumatic event,” Neil said. “And putting people to sleep is not what I’d call ‘advanced powers.’”
Rhys caught Neil’s shoulder. “Think logically.”
“Do you think I can manage it?” Neil asked sarcastically without turning around.
“I’ve seen how you are with people, Neil. You’re charismatic. You’re good at talking. You’re perfectly cut out to be a socialite. Why are you so desperate to be an assassin?”
Neil finally stopped walking. He ran his fingers through his hair and then met Rhys’s eyes and said, “Because socialites aren’t impressive. How hard is it to go out and sweet talk people into funding our projects? Not hard at all. Even Jennifer can manage it when she tries, and Jennifer has terrible people skills. Assassins, though—they’re rare and powerful— ”
“Like Dad?” Rhys interrupted.
“This isn’t about Dad.”
“Okay.” But Rhys didn’t look like he believed that.
Neil brushed dirt off his cloak “It doesn’t even matter. Dad’s going to hate me no matter what I choose to be.”
“He doesn’t hate you.”
“He does. And he has every right. In his mind, I tore our family apart.”
Rhys shook his head. “Don’t say that,” Rhys said. . “That wasn’t something you could help.”
“I want to be an assassin,” Neil said through gritted teeth.
“I support you,” Rhys said, “but he’s going to be hard to convince.” He gestured to the door at the end of the hall. “I don’t think he’ll support you no matter what you say.”
Neil closed his eyes. “Thank you,” he said slowly as he tapped his brother between the eyes, “for that vote of confidence.”
Rhys smiled slightly. “Good luck.”
Neil pushed through the door at the end of the hallway and walked into his father’s study, shoulders back, head high, just the way he’d been taught. He offered Sir Vapros a little bow.
Sir Vapros sat behind a massive desk that dwarfed nearly everything in the room. After becoming patriarch of the family, he had asked for it to be specially crafted. He shared the common Vapros traits: he was classically handsome, tall with dark hair and vibrant forest green eyes. But he wore an expression so stern that he could silence nearly anyone with a simple look. He was elegantly dressed in evening attire, and his hair was neatly styled. Neil noticed a few new streaks of silver that had appeared at his father’s temples, somehow making him look even more distinguished. Yet, Neil knew the polished exterior was a façade; Sir Vapros was a warrior. Underneath his sleeves, Sir Vapros's body was decorated with tattoos.
This was a Vapros tradition: every assassination earned you a ceremony where the patriarch would award you a tattoo representing your most recent kill. The only tattoo visible at the moment was a bloody coin on the back of his right hand. It was new. Neil’s sister, Victoria, had told him that it was from killing the head of the Imperial Bank of Altryon. For some unknown reason, the banker suddenly refused to do business with the Vapros establishments stationed around the city. Sir Vapros suspected that the Celerius, with their strong ties to the banking industry, were trying to cripple his businesses in an attempt to expand into the Vapros territory. Sir Vapros had personally gone to “renegotiate” the deal.
Sir Vapros slowly put down the paper he was examining and looked at his son with a deathly calm expression. “I heard what happened in the markets.” His voice was cold. Neil hated that his father could make him feel this way, as if he were five years old again and being punished for staying up past his bedtime. “Is it too optimistic of me to ask if you reached your target at all?”
“There were complications,” Neil said through a clenched jaw. “I couldn’t—”
Sir Vapros raised a hand to silence his son. “You were ejected from the house by Darius Taurlum. You fled instead of fighting.”
“He would have killed me,” Neil started, but his father interrupted.
“At least you would have died a man!”
Neil felt as if he’d been dunked in icy water. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
His father didn’t appear to hear him and continued. “And after all that, Jennifer tells me you needed help from a commoner. And not just any commoner—that commoner. I’ve asked you repeatedly to stay away from Bianca Blackmore. Lightborns don’t accept help from commoners, Neil.” He ran his hand through his straight black hair the same way his son always did. “On top of it all, you had that Taurlum completely at your mercy and you failed to end his life.”
Neil felt his heart twist with shame.
Sir Vapros spoke as his eyes drilled into Neil. “Any blood he sheds from this day forward is on your hands.”
There were a million things Neil wanted to say, but he settled on, “You had Jennifer spy on me?”
“I didn’t. Your sister did it all on her own.”
And she didn’t even step in to make sure I wasn’t killed? Neil wanted to say, but he held his tongue. “Give me one more chance.”
Sir Vapros raised an eyebrow and noted, “Not everyone is cut out to be an assassin, son.”
“I am,” Neil insisted.
Sir Vapros countered, “You’re pretty. Become a socialite.”
“One more chance,” he repeated stubbornly.
“I can’t afford to give you one more chance. This is too important. Do I need to remind you who you are, Neil? Who we are?”
“Of course not,” Neil said, trying as hard as he could not to sound disrespectful, but he knew that if Sir Vapros got started on the family history, his great passion, there was no stopping him from launching into one of his infamous sermons. It was too late.
“When the savages broke through the doors of the palace in the center of this city, who was there to stop them? Who sat in the throne room waiting to die for Altryon?”
“The first Lightborns. Four brothers: the first Vapros, the first Taurlum and—“
“That’ll do.” Sir Vapros didn’t seem to want to remember that the other families were present for that event. “And who appeared to our ancestor?”
“The glowing man appeared,” Neil said unenthusiastically.
“Use his full name. I won’t tolerate blasphemy in my house.”
“The Man with the Golden Light,” Neil amended. “Sorry.”
Sir Vapros stood up and begin to pace. “What you don’t seem to appreciate is that our powers were given to us by a deity, Neil. That’s why the people of Altryon call us Lightborns. We are actually born in the blessing of his light and that’s what you seem to be forgetting. The Man with the Golden Light may have bestowed special powers on four families but protecting Altryon is our divine purpose. Not theirs. Ours. We have proven time and time again that we are the only family that can truly protect Altryon. It’s not the Taurlum, it’s not the Celerius and it’s not the family that’s already perished. It’s us, Neil. It’s the Vapros. The people are fickle and might forget all we’ve done
for them, but there are certain gifts we have bestowed that even the most ungrateful men cannot forget. For instance, our ancestors built the wall. No matter where we go in this city, the wall is always visible, reminding us that we are safe. Do you know what’s outside the wall, Neil?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s crawling with savages who want to come within our paradise and steal it for themselves.” Sir Vapros had a faraway look on his face. “But the greatest threat to Altryon has always been inside the wall: the other families.
Sir Vapros drew a long breath. “This feud started before you were born, before any of us were born. It’s not ideal. But we still have to protect Altryon and our family. There’s no choice. We have to carry out the destiny laid before us by the Man with the Golden Light. It has to be the Vapros, Neil. The other families are inferior to us. They just aren’t capable.”
Neil felt like screaming but knew better. “But we aren’t carrying out the destiny. We aren’t in charge anymore. None of us are.”
Sir Vapros drummed his fingers along the table. “It’s true. An emperor, who was head of the military at the time, took control during the transition period after the people’s coup, and now his descendant rules the city. But we’re still here. We rule Altryon through other means. We use our wealth, our businesses. We provide the people with jobs. The current emperor might think he holds the power, but I assure you, the real strength is ours.”
“I just don’t see what our family history has to do with me wanting to be an assassin,” Neil said, trying to keep the stubbornness out of his voice.
“If you look back through history, you will see that we only accept the best.” Sir Vapros slammed his hand against his desk to emphasize each word. “The Taurlum are a wonderful example of foolishness at its most refined. They force every single child to take up the hammer and become a warrior, and then when they’re too old to fight they run those hideous markets. The Celerius all go into banking and arms dealing. Unless they’re very special, of course, then they go into the military. We Vapros, we are more . . . efficient. Those who show a talent for blood shed will be assassins for life. The charismatic, gentler ones will be socialites for life. It is my job to know what is best for you. It is my job to know what is best for this family.” He looked down at Neil. “You’re sixteen. I should have picked a permanent career for you months ago, but you insist on making it difficult. With that charming personality of yours, son, you would make a first rate socialite. Play to your strengths. Do it for Altryon.”
“Father,” Neil said desperately. “I just need one more chance, a new mission. Give me anyone, I don’t care who it is, I’ll kill him.”
“I cannot be embarrassed again, Neil.”
“How can you judge me on this?” Neil said, “This was a suicide mission at the very least!”
Sir Vapros approached Neil silently, with his infamous quiet footsteps. “Don’t talk back to me. Do as you’re told.”
“One last chance,” Neil said again, with more force this time. “You can’t blame me for what happened to mom, I—“
Suddenly Neil felt a blow to the head. With his cheeks burning and ears ringing, he realized that his father had struck him. This was not exactly uncommon in the Vapros house, but still Neil was somehow surprised. Rage filled him but he did not flinch. He blinked back tears and fixed his posture. He glared at his father who almost looked like he regretted striking his son. “One last chance,” Neil begged quietly.
Sir Vapros walked back to his chair and sat down, steepling his fingers in front of his face. Neil thought he caught a glimpse of sadness in his eyes. After what seemed like an endless pause, he said “Okay, one last chance. But do not make me regret this.”
“I won’t,” Neil said exhaling in relief.
Sir Vapros stood up, “Now put on a smile, boy. We’re going out tonight—all of us, as a family.”
Neil could feel the pain fading and his excitement building. One last chance. “Where are we going?” he asked.
Sir Vapros sported a smile of his own. “Tonight, we’re going socializing.”
CHAPTER FIVE
VAPROS BUNKER
NEIL VAPROS
After taking a few moments to shed his assassin cloak and don his evening clothes, Neil approached the mirror in his bedroom. It was connected to a small dresser nudged into the corner of the minuscule room. The dresser and bunk bed were the only furniture that could fit into a room so small. Neil examined his reflection and hoped the red mark in the shape of his father’s hand would soon fade. Neil had an angular face with a strong jawline. His eyes were a distinct emerald green and peeked out from behind his long messy hair. He examined the black locks for a moment and decided to brush them back out of his face. He hoped it would make him look slightly more presentable.
Rhys entered the room briskly and grabbed his own coat. He appeared to be deep in thought, but stopped upon seeing Neil. “You didn’t have that mark when you came back today…”
“You know where it came from,” said Neil.
Rhys looked at the floor for a moment and nodded.
They ascended the spiral staircase that led to the undersized entryway where his family waited. Everything about the Vapros bunker was specifically designed to be small, and with good reason: no Taurlum invader could charge through these narrow hallways. No Celerius sword could swing down to deliver a deathblow with these low, sloping ceilings. Cramped spaces did nothing to hinder materialization, and so the family had built their dwelling accordingly. Even generations ago, their house had played to their strengths. Father would have been proud, Neil thought as he jumped the last few steps and joined the throng of siblings and cousins packed into the foyer.
“Neil!” The cry came from a black-haired beauty. “Neil! Over here!”
Neil threaded his way through the crowd to meet her. “Jennifer,” he said to his sister. Thanks for spying on me, he added internally. Thanks for standing by while I almost died.
Jennifer grinned enthusiastically. It made Neil nervous. “Victoria and I were just talking about you!” Victoria, Neil’s sister and Jennifer’s twin, reached out to straighten Neil’s collar.
“We’ve been waiting for news about your mission,” Jennifer said.
Victoria gave Neil a smile that was much gentler than her twin’s maniacal grin. “We already heard some news, actually.”
Neil glared at Jennifer. “News travels fast around here, doesn’t it?”
Jennifer laughed loudly. “It was too entertaining to keep to myself.”
“You didn’t have to tell Dad about Bianca,” Neil grumbled to Jennifer as she turned to face the entrance to the bunker.
For an instant Neil thought he saw her eyes soften. “Don’t socialize with people you’re not supposed to, Neil. It never ends well.”
“Is everyone ready?” thundered the voice of Sir Vapros before Neil could respond. Sir Vapros opened the hatch at the front of the door and materialized through it. The group followed suit one at a time. They gathered in a circle around Neil’s father. He waited until everyone was there and a small grin began to split his face. “Is everyone familiar with Quintus, the emperor’s advisor?”
A murmur of consensus went up among the group.
“Tonight, we spread the rumor that Quintus has been visiting the brothels due to his failing marriage.”
Neil saw Jennifer smirk. The plan was becoming clearer. Whenever the emperor had an advisor that displeased Sir Vapros, they usually didn’t last long. Quintus, for example, was famously anti-Vapros. This was a mission of defamation.
“We also,” Sir Vapros continued, “will drop hints that he is battling alcoholism.” A grin nearly broke his icy expression. “If any of you finish early, you are encouraged to head down to the Opera House. Tonight’s performance is going to be a very special one.”
Neil knew all about the new opera because his father had talked of little else for weeks. Apparently, it was finally going to be an “accurate depiction�
�� of the history of the families.
Sir Vapros pointed to the twins. “Jennifer, Victoria, you take the Opera House. Entertain the nobles. Gather information and keep them drinking.”
Jennifer pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail and gave her father a nod of affirmation. Neil felt a tiny twinge of jealousy. She looked exactly the way an assassin should look. Despite her delicate facial features, she always had an expression of readiness and intensity. Unlike her socialite twin, she only had the appearance of being slender. Neil knew that the coat hid her well-toned muscle and a multitude of tattoos.
The first tattoo was always given in private and represented the first kill, but the rest were accompanied by a family celebration. Jennifer had been the guest of honor at countless “family dinners.” Neil, on the other hand, had never known the honor of such a celebration. She probably had more tattoos than anyone else in the family, aside from Sir Vapros, of course. As the twins began to stroll down the street toward the Opera House, Sir Vapros called after them. “Victoria!” She turned.
“I don’t want to hear about your little boyfriend ending up at the Opera House.”
She blushed. Jennifer smirked.
“He’s not the one I’m asking you to entertain. Do you understand?”
Victoria nodded, lowering her head so her hair fell in a curtain around her face. Jennifer let out a laugh as she grabbed her sister’s hand and pulled her down the street.
Sir Vapros turned his attention to Rhys. “There is a masquerade ball near the palace. Go. Meet people. Engage in conversation. Make friends.” Rhys smiled as he realized he’d be able to spend the entire night conversing with intellectuals. He trotted down the road toward the mask shops.
One by one, Sir Vapros assigned his family members to different areas of the nightlife district until only Neil was left. He looked down at his son thoughtfully. “Go to the pub near the Opera House,” he decided. “Buy a couple of rounds—flirt, boost morale, all that. If you have time, go meet up with Rhys near the end of the night.” Neil gave a bow so subtle it could have been a nod and walked away. “And Neil,” Sir Vapros called after his son, “do not disappoint me. Once was quite enough for today.”