The Bully (Kingmakers)

by Sophie Lark

  Dean scoops me up in his arms and sprints for the stairs. The tower lists to the left, stones raining down like deadly hail. The stairs fall away under his feet. Dean is jumping as much as running, leaping over empty space.

  The bell crashes down, bouncing off the walls with huge, hollow booms. It slams to a halt with a noise like an explosion, right as we burst through the door at the base of the tower, a landslide of rock and grit tumbling after us.

  We stand panting on the grass, naked as the day we were born and covered head to toe in gray dust.

  The Bell Tower is still standing, but just barely—it now tilts to the side worse than ever, with several more holes in the walls and no steps to climb up to the top.

  Shouts come from the windows of the Accountant’s Tower, the students roused by the crashing and clanging of the bell falling down. Lights snap on in the infirmary—probably Sasha and Snow rising from their bed in their private quarters.

  Laughing madly, Dean and I sprint for the stables before anyone can see us. We hide inside, amongst the piles of old furniture and files, until we find a box of ancient jerseys.

  My jersey covers me much better than Dean’s—it hangs down to my knees, while his resembles something worn by Winnie the Pooh.

  I can’t stop laughing.

  “Maybe wrap another one around your waist?” I snort.

  He seizes me and kisses me again, our mouths tasting of sex and ash.

  Dressed but not exactly decent, we each run for our respective dorms.

  “What in the hell?” Rakel says, when I try to sneak into our room unnoticed. “Have you been down in a coal mine?”

  “I can’t possibly explain,” I tell her.

  “Well, you missed a hell of an evening. Lola’s been bawling in her room and she won’t come out.”

  “What happened?” I say.

  “Someone cut her hair off. She won’t say who.”

  Rakel gives me a suspicious look.

  “You didn’t have anything to do with it, did you? Because I would hope you’d involve me in any revenge plots against Lola and Dixie.”

  “I didn’t know a thing about it,” I shake my head, mystified. “For once, I’m actually innocent.”

  Rakel snorts.

  “I don’t know what you were doing, but you’re the furthest thing from innocent.”

  32

  Dean

  Heaven — Julia Michaels

  Spotify → geni.us/bully-spotify

  Apple Music → geni.us/bully-apple

  The last week of school is the happiest week of my life.

  I spend every moment possible with Cat. We go for long walks all over the island—across the vineyards fragrant with ripening grapes, down through the shady river bottoms, and along the wild, salt-swept beaches.

  When the final marks are posted, I’m not in first place for my year. Anna Wilk took that honor, and Ares took second. I barely scraped third.

  And yet . . . I don’t care.

  Who would I have told, if I were first?

  My father is dead. I can no longer impress or disappoint him.

  And I no longer care what Danyl Kuznetsov or Abram Balakin think. In fact, when I consider the prospect of becoming Danyl’s lieutenant, all I feel is anxiety at the possibility that he might share Bodashka and Vanya’s ambitions of overthrowing Ivan Petrov and taking control of St. Petersburg. I want nothing to do with that.

  The only person I want to impress now is Cat. She would much rather spend another lazy afternoon together than see me score a few points higher on my final exams.

  I’m dreading a long summer without seeing her.

  As we sit up on the cliffs overlooking the Moon Beach, the breeze tossing Cat’s curls around her face, I ask her, “Are you going to Los Angeles for the summer? To visit Zoe?”

  “Actually . . .” Cat pulls up a blade of new green grass, twisting it between her fingers, “Miles and Zoe are coming back to Chicago for a few weeks. I was planning to meet them there. And I hoped you might come with me . . .”

  “To Chicago,” I say.

  It’s not really a question. I’m just voicing the words aloud, as if that will help me understand how I feel about that idea.

  “Not to see your mom,” Cat amends, quickly. “But I thought . . . maybe . . . you might want to see some of the rest of your family.”

  She means my Aunt Yelena, Leo’s mother.

  She was my father’s twin. They were best friends, growing up. The closest people in the world to each other.

  I suppose Leo told her what happened. I wonder if she was upset?

  “They’re not my family,” I tell Cat. “I’ve never even met them.”

  Cat looks me in the eye, laying her hand on top of mine on the warm grass.

  “They could be,” she says. “If that’s what you wanted.”

  I turn my hand over so I can grip her fingers tight.

  As always happens when I consider the ugly, bloody history of my forbearers, my stomach churns and my face gets hot. Usually a wave of anger and resentment washes over me.

  But today, I feel something different. A little bit like fear, and a little bit like longing.

  “I don’t think any of them would want to see me,” I say, quietly.

  Cat reaches up to touch my cheek, her hand softer than any pillow.

  “Do you want to be with me always?” She says.

  “Yes,” I tell her.

  “Then you’re going to be tied to the Griffins and the Gallos twice over. We’ll all be connected to each other. We’ll all be family.”

  I take her hand off my cheek and bring it to my lips, kissing it gently.

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you, Cat. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy. If you want me to come to Chicago with you . . . then that’s what I’ll do.”

  The morning we’re due to leave Kingmakers, I visit Snow one last time.

  He’s in the gym, straightening the mats and putting away any errant pieces of equipment, even though there’s no more classes and no students dedicated enough to train on the last day of school.

  Not even me.

  When he sees me standing in the doorway he straightens up, smiling without any surprise.

  “Did you change your mind about coming to New York?” he says.

  “No,” I reply. “But if the offer still stands in a few years . . . ”

  “It will always stand,” he says, quietly.

  “Thank you.” I pause, wanting to say this right. “Thank you for everything, Snow. You helped me, when I didn’t want it or ask for it. When I wasn’t grateful or even deserving.”

  “You were deserving,” Snow says, his eyes as clear and piercing as ever. “I saw that from the start.”

  I cross the mats and embrace him one last time.

  I hope I can give that sort of hug to someone, someday.

  “Cat asked me to come to Chicago with her,” I tell him. “Over the summer.”

  “What did you say?”

  “What do you think I said?”

  Snow smiles, slowly. “I think you agreed.”

  “You were right,” I nod. “I’d do anything for her.”

  Snow rests his hand on my shoulder.

  “You’re a man now. And that’s what a man does.”

  Cat is waiting for me just outside the gym. She bounces on her toes, her eyes bright and excited.

  “There’s an hour left before the wagons leave,” she says. “Want to walk around campus one last time?”

  “That sounds ominous,” I tease her. “You’re not planning to take me up on the wall, are you . . . ?”

  She smacks my arm.

  “Don’t joke about that!” she hisses at me. “Don’t ever say it out loud. That’s how I—”

  “Shhh,” I say, clamping my hand over her mouth to irritate her all the more. “You’re gonna spill all our secrets again!”

  Cat is ready to kill me for real, but I can’t help it, I’ve always loved the
way she looks when she’s furious—eyes glittering, cheeks flaming, body shaking.

  “All right, I’m sorry,” I say, releasing her. “Look, there’s nobody around.”

  Cat tosses her dark curls. “You better not plan on harassing me all the way home. It’s a long flight to Chicago.”

  “Two long flights,” I say. “And a boat ride. But don’t worry, I’ll be pampering you the whole way. Rubbing your shoulders and letting you sleep on my lap . . .”

  “Really?” Cat perks up at once, already willing to forgive me for teasing her. “That would be so nice, actually. I can stretch all the way out on two seats . . .”

  We’re walking down the annex of the Armory together, down the double row of photographs bearing all the winning Captains of Quartum Bellums past, stretching back before the dawn of photography when the portraits were painted or sketched.

  “There’s Adrik Petrov,” I say to Cat, pointing to the three photographs of the grinning Adrik, his black hair wild and windswept, his expression ferociously triumphant. “He’s Kade’s older brother.”

  In the third photograph, the defeated Captain standing behind him looks battered and miserable, barely able to stand upright. That must have been an awful challenge.

  “Oh, I’ve heard of him,” Cat says, pausing to stretch up on tiptoe so she can see the pictures better. “You met him in Moscow?”

  “Just briefly,” I say. “I liked him, though.”

  “He doesn’t look very nice,” Cat says, doubtfully.

  “You don’t like nice,” I growl, slipping my arm around her waist.

  Cat leans her body back against mine, arching her back with pleasure.

  I stoop to kiss the side of her neck.

  She turns all the way round to kiss me long and slow. The sun filters down through the high windows, turning the edge of her face gold. Her mouth is as warm as the sunshine.

  When we break apart, I feel light-headed.

  Cat leads me further down the hallway, her fingers linked through mine.

  “There’s no other Captains that won three years,” she says, examining the photographs. “Barely any that even won twice.”

  “Mm,” I say, still distracted by the kiss.

  “I haven’t seen any girls that did,” Cat says, those keen dark eyes combing the walls.

  “There’s less girls that attend the school. Probably barely any in the olden days.”

  “I’m not looking at the olden days,” Cat laughs. “We’re only twenty years back. Oh, here! There’s one . . .”

  She runs a few steps down, looking eagerly up at the photograph of a black-haired girl with bright blue eyes. Her mouth is open in gleeful laughter after her first win.

  “And look! She was only a Sophomore.” Cat says, highly impressed. “Then next year . . .”she follows down to the next photograph, where the same girl stands in the place of honor, right in front. This time she isn’t laughing. In fact, she hardly looks triumphant at all. Maybe it’s because the losing Captain is so bitterly angry that she doesn’t like him standing right behind her.

  “It’s funny though . . .” Cat says, walking down a few more steps. “She wasn’t Captain her Senior year . . .”

  “Maybe she didn’t win.”

  “No look, she’s not in any of the pictures even in the background.”

  I scan the photos, seeing that Cat is right.

  “That is odd . . .” I admit.

  Usually a winning Captain is voted back every year, unless they fuck up. If the girl won in her Sophomore and Junior years, you’d expect that the Senior class would be desperate to have her lead them again.

  “Maybe she didn’t come back to Kingmakers at all . . .” I say, slowly.

  Miles and Zoe dropped out. The girl might have gotten married.

  “Maybe she didn’t . . .” Cat replies, in a strangely distant voice. Her eyes look unfocused and dreamy.

  “What?” I say.

  Ignoring me, Cat dashes back to the first photograph of the black-haired girl. Then she returns to the second. She goes back and forth several times, examining the winning Captain closely.

  “What is it?” I ask Cat again. I come to stand beside her, trying to see what she’s seeing.

  “Do you think she looks . . . skinnier in the first picture?” Cat asks.

  I squint closely, looking at the girl’s slim, athletic frame.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “She’s a year older in the second picture. But . . . I guess . . . ”

  There is a slight difference in her figure, or at least I think there might be. It’s difficult to tell in her loose uniform. And she’s so much more serious in the second picture. But still, she might be a little bit fuller.

  “What does it matter?” I ask Cat. “What does it mean?”

  “This will sound crazy,” she says, softly. “But I think that’s Hedeon’s mother.”

  We fly from Dubrovnik to Chicago, with a short layover in Berlin where we part ways with Chay Wagner.

  Anna and Leo sit directly across the aisle from Cat and me.

  Leo leans over to talk to us so often that one of the flight attendants hits him with the drink cart on purpose, just to remind him to stay out of the way.

  I can tell he’s trying to make me feel comfortable, and I have to admit, when I’m not doing my best to despise Leo, his warmth is irresistible. He almost makes me believe there won’t be any awkwardness at all in finally meeting the people I was taught to hate and despise all my life.

  Ignoring the glares of the flight attendant, Leo leans his rangy frame across the aisle once more to say to me, “You like movies? There’s this outdoor theater we can go to, they show all these 80s slasher flicks late at night down by the lake. It’s nice and creepy with the trees all around, and the water . . .”

  “You hate horror movies!” Anna says to Leo. “You almost leap out of your chair with every single jump scare.”

  “That’s just my highly-tuned reflexes,” Leo grins. “If there is a murderer behind us in a hockey mask, you’re gonna be glad I’m not laying back in my seat half asleep.”

  “I’ll go!” Cat says, gamely. “As long as there’s popcorn.”

  She glances at me to see if I’m amenable.

  “In Moscow we eat sunflower seeds at the movies,” I tell her.

  “We’ll sneak those in, too,” Leo says.

  I pause a moment, wanting to ask Leo something before we land.

  “Leo . . .” I say.

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you tell your mother what happened? At Christmas?”

  “Yes,” Leo nods, his smile fading.

  “Was she . . . how did she take it?”

  “She was devastated,” Leo says, simply. “She always hoped that she and Adrian would reconcile eventually. She wrote to him every year on their birthday. I don’t think he ever wrote back.”

  I nod, slowly.

  I never saw those letters, but I’m sure Leo’s telling the truth.

  “My father could be very cold,” I say. “His capacity for love was . . . limited. And conditional.”

  “Well,” Leo says, quietly. “I can only imagine the pain he suffered.”

  I can see on Leo’s face that there’s regret on both sides. I was raised with anger, he was raised with sorrow. The difference between his mother and my father.

  We pass over the Great Lakes as the plane begins to descend. The vast, shining bodies of water each look as large as an inland sea. Around the edge of Lake Michigan, the gleaming spires of downtown Chicago jut up into the sky: opulent and golden-hued in the late-afternoon sunshine.

  My heart rises up in my throat.

  I’m finally returning to the city where I was born.

  I never thought I’d make this journey alone.

  But I’m not really alone—Cat slips her hand in mine.

  Across the aisle, my cousin smiles at me.

  “You’re gonna love it,” he says.

  We disembark the plane and retriev
e our luggage from the conveyer belt. Then walk past the security gates.

  I see Leo’s parents waiting for us—his father as tall, tan, and athletic as his son, his hair graying but still thick and wavy. Sebastian Gallo wears a pair of stylish eyeglasses and a neatly-pressed polo shirt tucked into slacks.

  Next to him, a tall blonde woman pushes a space-age pram. I look at her face and I see . . . something painfully familiar to me. The high cheekbones, the stubborn jaw, the full lips and eyes of that unusual shade that I’ve only seen twice in my life: on my father’s face, and my own.

  She is Adrian Yenin’s twin in every way.

  Except that the moment she sees me, her eyes fill with tears. She opens her arms and wraps them around me, pulling me tight against her in a hug.

  “Dean,” she says. “I’ve wanted to meet you for so long.”

  I can feel my body stiffening. My own eyes are burning, my heart beating too fast. I know her husband is watching.

  But also . . . there’s something familiar and comforting in Aunt Yelena’s clean, sweet scent, and in the shade of the silver-blonde hair that falls across my shoulder.

  So I push away my usual response to fear and confusion. Instead, I take a deep breath and I hug her back.

  When she lets go of me at last, I face Sebastian Gallo and I look him in the eye.

  This is the man who mutilated my father and strangled my grandfather. He’s also the man who loved Yelena Yenina enough to marry the daughter of his worst enemy.

  I hold out my hand to him to shake.

  Sebastian grips my hand in his warm grasp and pulls me into an embrace, hugging me just as hard as his wife.

  “Welcome home,” he says.

  Epilogue

  Cat

  Chicago

  Dean and I had only intended to visit Chicago for a couple of weeks, but we end up staying almost the entire summer.

  We stay at Leo’s parents’ elegant mansion in the downtown core. The six of us—Anna, Leo, Miles, Zoe, Dean, and me—explore every part of the city and the surrounding countryside. Sometimes Miles’ little brother Caleb tags along, incensed at being left out when he himself will be attending Kingmakers in the fall.