by Ben Reeder
Tad spent a moment with his mouth hanging open before he turned on his heel and stalked off. As soon as his back was turned, Dr. C came over to us.
“How are you holding up?” he asked me as he put a hand on my shoulder.
“I … I dunno,” I finally managed.
“All right,” he said. “Just stay put and think about getting you and your sister packed for a few days at my place.”
“What?” I said while my brain struggled to catch up.
“Essentials. Socks, underwear, clothes, favorite stuffed animal. And don’t forget her Sonic.” He squeezed my shoulder before he turned to the NEPD officer that was coming up. They spoke for a few moments, then the officer nodded and waved Detective Collins over. They conferred for a few seconds, then Collins nodded and came over to us.
“We’ve got ten minutes to get you two kids packed,” he said. “Let’s go, clock’s ticking.” I trotted past him, the list of what we needed already completed in my head. I took the stairs two at a time and went straight to Dee’s room.
“Suitcase,” I said as I pointed.
“I don’t want to go,” Dee said from behind me. I stopped and turned, completely gobsmacked.
“Dee, we can’t stay,” I said. “Mom’s not going to be here.”
“Dr. Corwyn can stay with us,” she countered. I ran my hand down my face as I tried to figure out how to get her to come on her own. I wasn’t Mom, I didn’t have the Mom voice or the power of the Stern Look. So it was time to make things less horrible.
“Remember when you and Mom had to go hide a few months ago?” She nodded, her face troubled. “Well, this time, you’re coming with me on one of my adventures.”
“Like the Doctor?” she asked.
“Yeah, kinda like that, only I don’t have a blue box. But I do have adventures, and I do need someone to watch my back. I’d hoped that someone would be you this time.”
“You know those shows aren’t real,” she said to me with one eye narrowed.
“And you know magick is real,” I said. “I really do have adventures, and I really do want you with me for this one.”
“Okay,” she finally said. “I’ll need my backpack, too.”
We packed fast, rolling things up instead of trying to fold them. I grabbed the next three books on her summer reading challenge list and made sure she had her Sonic. That left only one decision.
“Doctor Hooves or Pyewacket?” I asked, holding up her two favorite stuffed animals.
“Pyewacket,” she said without missing a beat. “I want Dr. Hooves here to protect my room.”
I tossed her the floppy black cat and set the pony on her bed facing the room. My stuff was easier to pack, but I needed my laptop. I looked at the stack of library books on my desk longingly for a moment, then decided to grab a couple on the off chance I’d actually have time of my own at some point.
By the time we made it back downstairs, the car with Mom in it was gone. Collins and Dr. C were talking to Tad, and evidently they had him on the ropes, because he had his hands up and was shaking his head. We stalked across the yard toward him, and he took a step back as he caught sight of us.
“Where’s my mom?” Dee bellowed at the top of her lungs. I caught the glint of light off something glass or metal, and noticed a news van down the street a little. A cameraman was focusing on us, and I stopped my hand halfway to Dee’s shoulder. It must have been a slow news day if we were worth even a cameraman. “Where is she?”
Tad shook his head and stammered for a moment.
“We thought it would be better to send her to the station while you two were inside,” one of the cops said to me. “We didn’t want a scene.” Dee started crying, almost as if on cue, but I knew these tears were genuine.
“Yeah? How’d that work out for you?” I asked as I knelt and took her in my arms.
“I didn’t get to tell her bye or I love you or promise I’d be good or anything!” she bawled into my shoulder.
“We’ll see her soon,” I said softly. “And you’ll get to tell her all of that then. Who knows? By then, that whole being good part might even be true.”
She pulled back from me and gave me a tear-dampened frown. “I am good!” she protested. “You’re the bad one.” She scrubbed a fist across her cheeks and sniffled.
“Whatever,” I said. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” Dr. C had already grabbed Dee’s stuff, so I hefted my duffel bag onto my shoulder and followed him. Once my Mustang was loaded up, he got in his Range Rover and led the way back to his place.
The ride to Dr. C’s place was quiet, and somehow, Dee stayed quiet and subdued long enough to get her stuff up to the room we were sharing. When we came down the stairs, the smell of garlic hit our noses. We followed the smell to the kitchen, where we found Dr. C heating a pot of spaghetti noodles.
“I hope Italian is okay,” he said as he dipped a spoon with long projections along the edge into the pot and pulled out long strands of spaghetti. I shrugged and gave a half-assed nod.
“Where’s Gage?” I asked.
“Reporting to the Conclave,” he answered. “He’s also getting his lawyers to send a representative to go get his stuff from your place. Believe me, we’re going to be seeing more than we want of him after tomorrow morning. For tonight, let’s get the table set. Silverware is by the sink, stands are in the drawer at the end of the counter.”
“Stands?” I asked.
“Yes, you know my rules about reading at the table.”
“No, sir, I don’t.”
“Well, now you do. Only with a book stand. Now, get to it.”
I pointed Dee to the silverware drawer while I got three bookstands from the end drawer and set them up. By the time we got back downstairs from getting our books, food was on the table. We read through dinner, occasionally sneaking glances at each other over the tops of our books.
“Detective Collins is going to be looking into your mother’s case,” Dr. C finally said. “She’ll have a bail hearing on Monday morning. I’ll try to schedule a visit for the two of you tomorrow. In the meantime, Chance, I need you to get in touch with your … lawyer. See what he can do.”
“Vortigern isn’t the kind of lawyer you call,” I said. “Mom might have had his number, but I don’t happen to have a scroll of ‘summon lawyer’ on me.”
“Then perhaps she’ll contact him. Either way, there’s nothing more we can do tonight. So, Dee, why don’t you take your book into the library and read until bed time, which I’m told by a reliable source is eight-thirty for the moment. Chance, if you’ll set up the chess board in the front room, I’ll take care of the dishes.”
“The chess board?” I said. “You expect me to be on my game now?”
“Yes, I do,” he said calmly. “Especially now.” Before I could say anything else, he got up and took our plates. Dee, never one to argue with either time to read or an extra half-hour before bed time, took her book and headed for the library while I went to the front room and pulled the chess set out from its spot on the shelf. The heavy wooden box opened out so that the chess board itself was revealed as the inside. When I laid it down with the chess board facing up, there were two shallow drawers that held the pieces on each end, with a narrow play clock folded down on one side. I set the pieces up and held out a pawn of each color.
“I’ll play white tonight,” Dr. C said when he came into the room a few minutes later. He played his first move, a pawn out two spaces. I moved a pawn to counter it, but only one space. Playing against Dr. Corwyn was hard, but I had the advantage of knowing how he thought. Of course, he also knew how I thought, so over the past few months it had been like learning the game all over for both of us, though at first, my grasp of chess was pretty much how the pieces moved. By now, though, we were both playing four or five moves ahead.
“The first question of the night is who?” he said after he moved his bishop into play. “Who would want to frame your mother? Who benefits from this move?”
“I’ve been wondering that myself. It’s a short list. I can only think of three people who might be able to pull it off. My father, Dulka, and Thraxus or one of his flunkeys. No one mourned King’s loss, and none of the lesser vampires dare make a move openly against me for Etienne’s death, since Thraxus sanctioned it.”
“One of the advantages of having an opponent who is willing to break the rules to get what he wants,” Dr. C said as he took one of my pawns. “But this doesn’t sound like his style. Not scary enough; not a big enough reminder of his power. So, that leaves your father and Dulka.”
“And this does sound like them,” I said, moving a knight to take one of his rooks.
“If your father is involved, he’s going to make a play for custody of you and your sister,” he said as he moved his queen’s knight into a vulnerable position. I considered taking it, but it was still covered by his pawns, and it would take a couple of moves to get my bishop in position for the kill. I moved the bishop anyway, letting him see me appear to fall for the trap.
“If he does, we’ll deal with it,” I said. “We still need to get money to bail Mom out Monday.” He moved another pawn, opening his king’s bishop to move.
“That’s why he’s going to make his move soon,” he said a few moves later. “He knows you’ll be distracted by this. In fact, I wouldn’t put it past him to have framed your mother for just that purpose.” I moved the pawn in front of my queen’s rook, and he wasted no time in moving his other knight out into play. “This isn’t a matter of if, Chance. It’s a matter of when and how. You have to think ahead of him if you’re going to beat him.” I saw an opening in his play, one that had to look like a mistake. I moved my queen’s pawn out two spaces and waited. He countered with his queen’s pawn.
“Do we have to deal with this right now?” I asked a few moves later, now shy two pawns and a knight.
“Yes,” he said as he made his move. “You either plan for it, or react to it, but either way, you don’t get to choose what he’s going to do. What you do get to choose is your response. The farther ahead of him you are, the more likely you are to turn things to your advantage. More importantly, if your father is behind this, you need to start asking yourself why.” I moved my queen out, ending up with her one space from a direct shot at his king. He moved a pawn to block the diagonal attack, so I moved my queen across the board.
“Check,” I said. He moved his bishop to block, and I moved my rook into place.
“You should have taken care of your queen,” he said as he took the piece. I moved my bishop out to take his.
“My queen was bait, sir,” I said. “I think that’s mate.”
“Not yet,” he said, “but it will be in two moves. Nice sacrifice play.”
“Thank you, sir. I think I know how to deal with my father.”
“Well, I hope it isn’t by sacrificing your queen,” he said.
“No, sir. I won’t be sacrificing my queen. But it’s going to be pretty risky.”
“When are things ever safe where we’re concerned?” he asked.
“True, but that’s the trick. I know my father. He’ll take risks; he does it all the time. But he’ll take a sure bet over a risky one every time. It’s why he’s not any higher up the food chain than he already is.”
“And why he isn’t in prison yet. Okay, what do you have in mind?”
Chapter 6
~ I just want what’s best for my kid. ~ Every parent ever.
I hated it when Dr. Corwyn was right. My father showed up at his place the next morning. I woke up to the sound of a horn honking out front and a fist pounding on the front door, alternating with rapid ringing of the doorbell. When I tried to get up, I found my right arm pinned to the floor. Sometime during the night, Dee had crawled out of bed and snuggled up next to me. Junkyard was curled up next to her, and she had both arms wrapped around him like a giant teddy mutt, with Pyewacket draped over his flank. I yawned as I tried to retrieve my arm from under her limp form. Junkyard raised his head and looked over his shoulder at me. He let out a little groan as if to point out the futility of expecting him to move while Dee had him in her clutches, then laid his head back down.
“Good dog … you get a cutie mark,” Dee murmured as my hand came free. I could hear Dr. C’s feet on the stairs, his own voice muffled by the doorway, but his tone promising dire consequences. I grabbed my TK wand off the dresser and the Ariakon from its holster on the back of the door and padded after him.
“… release the children now, and I’ll see to it that no charges are filed against you,” a familiar voice said.
“You’re pretty slick, Mr. um … Cassavetes,” Dr. C said. “Coming by early, trying to catch me right after I wake up, sounding all official, making threats. But you see, I have this thing in my study called documentation that says I’m the children’s temporary guardian. And documentation trumps bullshit any day. So, here’s my threat. Show me something official, and I’ll see to it you don’t get shot for trespassing. Otherwise, I’ll tell the cops you tried to force your way in.”
“And I’ll back him up a hundred percent,” I said from over his shoulder. “Help, help, I’m being oppressed,” I said in a monotone.
“Chance,” Cassavetes said, his tone placating, Dr. Corwyn suddenly forgotten. “Wouldn’t you rather stay with family during this trying time?”
“I am staying with family,” I said slowly. “My sister’s here.”
“But your father,” he said, gesturing to the long black limo idling in front of the house.
“Sold me to a demon,” I said. “He’s not family.”
The back door of the limo opened and my father emerged, looking almost dignified in khakis and a gray polo shirt. There was more gray in his hair, and it looked like he’d lost a few chins somewhere along the way.
“He’s very influential,” Cassavetes said as the old man walked up to the porch. “He could get these charges against your mother dropped. All you’d have to do is come back home.”
“I’d rather live in a foster home.”
“Mike, go back to the car,” my father said. Cassavetes nodded and left. “Chance, are you turning down my generosity?”
“If you were being generous,” Dr. Corwyn said softly, “you would have already gotten the charges against Mara dropped. This is extortion.”
My father’s face darkened, and his right hand went to his hip. “This is between me and my son,” he said. “It’s none of your business, maláka.”
“We already had this conversation,” I growled. “You don’t get to call me that, remember?”
“The law says different, son. You’d better wise up and come home before things get worse for you.”
“Threats,” Dr. C said with menacing softness. “You actually think that is going to work?”
“I told you to stay out of my family’s business, little man,” my father said. “He belongs with me, not with some boy-loving stranger.”
Dr. Corwyn did the scariest thing I’d ever seen him do in the face of the old man’s insult.
He smiled.
“Chance may be your offspring,” Dr. C said as he stepped out onto the porch, “but he’s my apprentice. So think about who you’re talking to, and exactly where you’re standing, Stavros Fortunato. Because I do not tolerate threats, and I do not suffer warlocks lightly. I would be within my rights to kill you where you stand. The only things keeping you alive right now … are witnesses.”
Suddenly, the old man realized exactly who he was talking to, and a sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. But there was still ice in his veins. To his credit, he didn’t bolt right away.
“Don’t be so sure of your power, mage,” he said. “And hope I don’t catch you without witnesses around.” He turned to me and leveled one thick finger at me. “You better wise up fast, boy. You know there’s a price for crossing me. I hope you’re ready to pay it.” With that, he turned and walked back to the limo.
“He’s too confident,
” Dr. C said as we watched the black car move off. “If you ever reconsider putting a kill order out on him, I’m not sure I’d try too hard to talk you out of it.”
I nodded, and wondered if I would regret not taking the Council up on the offer. After completing my Ordeal, the Council had been forced to reconsider my case. Since my father had been the one to put me in the position to be accused, all of the crimes I’d committed were now also on his shoulders, and I was considered to be the wronged party in the whole mess. That also meant that it was up to me to call for justice. The Council had offered to send the Hands of Death after him. Actually, Cross and T-Bone had volunteered to go hunt him down and give him a slow, messy death and the Council had just endorsed it after the fact. But I hadn’t taken them up on the offer.
“Killing him now would still give Dulka what he wants,” I said. “And the old man knows what’s waiting for him when he dies. I want him to spend a long time thinking about that.”
“It’s probably the better decision,” he said as he turned and came back inside. “Let’s just hope we all survive our own merciful natures.”
By midday Monday, I had grown to dread the sound of the judge’s gavel. I guess if it comes right after the words “Bail set at thirty thousand dollars,” the sound can sour on you pretty quick. Now I sat in another judge’s chambers, waiting with Dr. Corwyn and a man with a permanent suntan and the hands of a construction worker rather than a lawyer. Evidently, the last time he’d bought any dress clothes had been the eighties; either that, or I’d missed the trend back toward pastels, baggy slacks, and wide collars. I tried not to squirm or fidget, but unless Kyle Vortigern showed up, I was pretty sure I’d end up at my father’s place by the end of the day. I hoped Judge Wells (according to the name plate on her desk) took her time showing up.
If I hadn’t been wondering where in the Nine Hells Vortigern was for the past fifteen minutes, I would have sworn just thinking about him had summoned him when the door opened and he stepped into the judge’s office.