by Mason Dakota
It was the closest he would come to admitting I was right and that he would stand by me. I took it. My mentor then turned and left the apartment without a word goodbye. Where he went, I had no idea. Maybe to blow off steam or maybe to find some way to help us stay alive. I wasn’t sure of much except that I had a committed ally.
For quite some time nobody moved or spoke. I think we sensed one another’s genuine, intense fear. There’s a big difference between pickpocketing and beating up a few thugs on the street each night to standing up against a timeless organization that will orchestrate a public execution of innocent people just to teach someone else a lesson. Our earlier optimistic naivety faded. Reality rested its ugly head upon us with a crushing weight.
They will all live and die by the choices I make.
Chamberlain handed me a rag to wipe the blood off my face and said, “Here, take this.”
I thanked him as I took the rag and slowly wiped my face. The rag was red by the time I finished. “If you decide to skip town, I won’t hold it against you,” I said.
Chamberlain took a deep breath and said, “For fifteen years I have been at your side…in trouble and out of it. Nothing has changed about that. Where you go I go. We live and die for the same thing.”
Alison took a step forward and slid her arm through Chamberlain’s. She brushed back a strand of hair with her other hand and asked, “How could you ever ask us to leave you? Sure, maybe we keep some distance when you forget to brush your teeth, but we’ll never leave you. Besides, how long do you think you’d last without us?”
Chamberlain smirked and said, “If you’re a mess with us then you are certainly much worse without us.” Relieved to share a normal moment with my best friend, I snickered.
Michael, however, stood there, fists clenched tightly at his sides, shaking. Something dark flashed in his eyes, and I recognized the look. He was fighting his demons. He appeared to be forcing mind over matter when he raised his head above his own internal duel—champion or victim?—and he nodded repeatedly like a man trying to convince himself of his own statement.
My response?
More tears. Earlier, shame and guilt brought them on, but the second time I was moved by pride and love. I quickly looked down to hide my embarrassment.
I don’t deserve friends like this.
I sniffed and wiped away my tears before I looked up and said to Chamberlain specifically, “I’m sorry. Those things I said earlier today…I never meant. I know you were just trying to be a true friend. I threw that in your face, and I’m so sorry.”
“As am I.” He smiled and I felt confident everything before was forgotten in his eyes.
“What’s your plan then?” Alison asked.
Her question caught me off guard. I had no plan. “It’s simple,” I started, “find the bad guys and stop them.”
“Good plan. But, um, how exactly will you stop them?” asked Chamberlain.
“Or find them?” added Alison.
“I’m working on it.”
Alison sighed, “We can always count on you being one step ahead, can’t we?”
“The first thing is to give Lorre these photos. After that comes the ball. We have a few hours to prepare, which means a change of clothes and an ice bath for me. I look like a mess,” I said as I looked myself over.
“You smell like it,” said Chamberlain who showed a real smile for the first time today.
“Yeah, I guess I have enough money now to rent a tuxedo. Kraine gave me a signing bonus.” I dug out of my pocket the stack of bills and threw them on the table. Instantly everyone’s eyes lit up. Michael grabbed the stack, the the first movement he made, short of his shaking. He rapidly counted the bills with machine-like precision. But the way he clung to them worried me; I thought briefly about the hacker and once again wondered if it might have been Michael.
“My invitation to the ball tonight is for me plus one,” I said to no one in particular.
“Perfect for someone to come and watch your back,” said Chamberlain.
I shrugged and said, “It would be nice. I think Erikson and maybe Carmichael will be there. Something is going to happen, that’s for sure. I think it’s best that someone could be there with me.”
Chamberlain said, “Then I will go with you.”
I shook my head and said, “No, Nebula knows you are an Illegal. If things go badly, they’ll expose you to cover their tracks. We can’t run from Kraine’s security and discover Nebula’s plan at the same time. It’s too risky for you to be there. But I want you close and nearby just in case things go wrong. And Michael, before you ask, you’re not going either. No offense.”
“None taken. I prefer to be behind a computer and out of the path of bullets anyway. They do not go well with my complexion,” he said. Finally, the Michael I knew and loved had returned. His warring look had passed, and I hoped he won his battle.
“So that just leaves me,” chimed Alison.
“And the prettiest. If tonight’s the night Ziavir decides to do me in I would love to know that I died taking the prettiest girl in the city to the biggest party of the year,” I complimented. Alison blushed.
“Well thank you, Griffon,” she said. I felt all our spirits lifting.
Hope?
“Oh, no, that’s not going to happen. It’s too dangerous,” Chamberlain said.
Wrong thing to say there, bud.
A single expression defeated him. Words followed.
“Do you think I’m more likely to get hurt than you? Or are you diminishing your own value by thinking it would be better for you to face danger than me? I do not need someone defending me because I’m a woman. I appreciate your willingness, but demanding—not even asking—that I remain out of harm’s way, while you are in harm’s way, insults my honor and capabilities. Unacceptable. I’m going tonight because I am the best for the job and if you cannot see that then shame on you.”
I don’t think I ever saw such fear in Chamberlain before. His face paled and his eyes widened. He rapidly spat out a long series of yeses and apologies.
“Good,” remarked Alison. She walked over toward Michael, who stood just as terrified as Chamberlain, and snatched up the stack of bills from his hands. She split it in half and dropped the rest on the table. She fanned herself with the bills before hiding them away. “I need a new dress for tonight.”
“What dress costs five grand?” I asked, shocked.
She shrugged. “I also need some new shoes to match.” I opened my mouth to protest but Chamberlain shook his head to warn me that was a fight I would not win.
Three men stood in that room, but we were outnumbered.
“Okay then. I need to go meet Lorre to make the drop. Then I’ll go rent a tux. Michael, while I’m gone, can you check to make sure that phone isn’t tapped?” I asked.
“Yeah, I can do that,” he said as he scooped up the phone. Within seconds, it was broken in pieces and connected it to his holographic doohickey. There was a fervent eagerness in his mannerisms and I wondered if he saw binary code everywhere he looked.
What vitamins did he take this morning?
“Are you sure giving those photos to Lorre is wise?” asked Chamberlain.
“I’m not sure about a lot of things. But if I give these to Lorre maybe I get a new friend inside the NPFC who may prove valuable one day.”
“Yeah, except if you give them to him then he is going to hunt down and kill Shaman,” said Michael.
“Better Shaman than Griffon. It’s about time Shaman got some of the weight on him instead of Griffon,” said Alison jokingly.
I nodded in agreement and said, “If he hunts for Shaman…I can control that, but if he hunts Griffon I won’t be able to hide.”
“But what happens when he starts to suspect you as Shaman? He is a detective. He’s bound to consider that…if he hasn’t already,” said Chamberlain.
“Probably, but I can’t think about that. Right now, I’ve no choice but to buy us some more time
by giving him these pictures so we can figure out our next step. I’ll be back in an hour.” I left the apartment without a goodbye.
The weight I carried out of that apartment proved only worse than that I carried when I entered it moments before.
My body ached, but it was a gracious distraction from the poison that sank my soul. Gabriel lied to me, claiming to protect me. My friends’ lives balanced on the power and actions from my broken flesh. Twisting and churning, the tension in my gut made it difficult for me to walk. I struggled to breathe. I felt like I stood on the edge of a giant knife…a knife that, with one gasp, could mean the execution of innocents.
The worse part? I didn’t know what Nebula planned.
But I knew there would be death.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The limousine pulled to a stop in front of Kraine’s personal hotel building in the richest part of town. The ball took place on the top floor in the penthouse suite. Thomas maneuvered the limousine up to the front and a valet opened my door. I slipped out and straightened the fabric of my tux.
There’s a reason that the tux has been around for centuries without going out of style. It can take anyone and make him look good, and I must say I clean up nicely.
I caught a reflection of myself and smiled. I looked like a government spy and felt like one with the button camera Michael put in my tux. It allowed my team to see and hear what I saw and heard, but not directly communicate with me.
Better than nothing.
After leaving Michael’s apartment I called the number Lorre gave me. Lorre wanted me to go to a specific park bench in the park and tape the photos underneath, then leave. I did exactly that. I had yet to receive word from Lorre, but I knew that he would reach me when he felt the need.
Afterward, I went shopping to rent a tuxedo…cheaply I had hoped. Despite being the Outcast Emissary, most stores refused to serve me, claiming untrustworthiness due to my genetic code. Some stores prevented me from entering and threw garbage at me for even asking. One even threatened to call the cops on me.
Despite the segregation setbacks, I eventually found a place that sold me a cheap quality and over-used tux priced at four times its value to rent. But it was still the best-looking clothing I had ever worn.
A cough came from the inside of the limo. I didn’t realize that I had started to walk off without my date.
“Oh, my bad,” I stammered as I reached inside the limo. Alison took my hand and stepped out of the limo feet first, better yet, heels first. The things looked like ice picks. Alison wore her hair hanging down her right side and ending in curls around her collarbone. She had a small pearl necklace around her neck that—even though they were probably fake—looked ravishing on her. She wore a skinny sparkling red dress that ended above her knees and complimented her curves quite well…not that I paid attention…her being Chamberlain’s girl and all. But her beauty couldn’t be ignored. It didn’t matter what the world labeled her; that night Alison was a queen.
That was ironic, knowing from where she came. From innocent neighborhood girl, to kidnapped by slavers, to rescued by Gabriel as Shaman, to suffering under a system that prevented her from fulfilling her dreams of being a doctor, to now pretending to be my date on a mission to save Chicago, Alison was used to heartbreak and suffering.
Rising from those ashes, robbed of the chance and opportunities that a woman of her character and intelligence deserved, she stood proudly tonight as a remarkable sight to see. A beauty for once not just from within, but evident on the outside in shining radiance. I imagined the heat of Chamberlain’s jealousy as he sat, stuck in the van.
“Griffon…you’re staring,” whispered Alison.
I tried to refocus. “Sorry. Shall we go and enjoy the night then?” I asked as I offered my arm to her. She smiled and slipped her hand through it.
“Lead the way,” she whispered in my ear. Like royalty, we strode up the steps and through the automatic doors into the hotel lobby.
Wait till they get a sight of us two street rats.
It was no secret that only Chicago’s elite attended the Red Glove Society Ball. Its members consisted of bankers, lawyers, doctors, politicians, and other successful business men and women—all Nobles—a gathering of the most powerful people in Chicago who were capable of building and crushing small governments overnight.
The tradition to invite only Nobles made it quite a scandalous affair to have Outcasts as guests…instead of slaves.
We came to an open elevator where two men in black suits stood guard. I had seen photos of rhinos smaller than those two giants. Each carried a pistol at his side with a hand close to his sidearm. They watched us suspiciously, questioning our presence as genetic code was clearly visible on Alison’s forearm (despite her beauty) and on my lips with the scar from a childhood cleft lip. A spark of distrust and worry flashed through their eyes before they apparently realized my identity.
We came to a stop about five feet away. “Griffon Nightlock and guest,” I said. I wondered if the guards would believe us or if they would turn us away. The big man on the left pulled a clipboard out from inside his coat pocket—how he had it in there I will never know—and scanned down the list of names until he found mine.
His partner pulled out a metal detector and did a quick scan of both Alison and me. He found nothing. The bouncer checking the list then nodded and grunted like an ape. He stepped to the side to let us pass and said in a deep voice, “Penthouse. Top floor.”
I kept quiet, not wanting to start a conversation with a bunch of illiterate Noble apes. I pressed the button for the desired floor and the elevator doors came to a close. As it did I caught a glimpse of one of the bouncers speak into his sleeve, “He’s arrived.” The rest was cut off when the elevator doors shut.
That can’t be a good sign.
“I guess I should thank you for agreeing to come tonight,” I said to Alison when we were alone.
Alison smiled and replied, “You let me buy an expensive dress.”
“And shoes! Can’t forget that,” I interrupted.
“And shoes,” she added with a devilish smile, “Then take me to the city’s most envious social gathering of the year as part of a mission to save Chicago. No, I should be thanking you, Griffon. I’m excited.”
“Well, I’m sure tonight will be exciting. I needed a friend with me.”
“It’s about time you and Chamberlain took a back seat on things. I mean, how many times do the two of you have to fall into trouble before you let someone more competent do the job? Especially Chamberlain, who loses his keys or forgets to tie his shoelaces. Honestly, there are some days I’m surprised I don’t have to remind him to breathe.”
“Um…you know he can hear you, right,” I said as I pointed to the camera button on my tux.
Alison looked straight forward, shrugged and said, “Yeah I know.” A smile stretched across her face.
She looked at me, right at the button camera, and said, “But I still love the big teddy bear.” I pictured Chamberlain’s reaction: blushed and flustered with downcast eyes. I chuckled.
“Keep that up, and I’ll let you keep the dress,” I said.
“If you think you’ll get it back you’re dumber than you look.”
The elevator came to a stop, and with a ding, opened. For once an elevator didn’t make me sick; I prayed that was a good sign. The doors opened onto a ballroom with men and women laughing, drinking, and by all appearances having a merry time.
Their attire consisted of elegant, dazzling designs that appeared strange and beautiful in comparison to my cheap tux and Alison’s dress. I had never seen that much silk and that many jewels. Bright and bold colors drew the eye as much as they repelled them. The room was a roaring wave of color, as alive as my own heartbeat, a suffocating force of supernatural dimension. My anxiety went through the roof.
Fearing another panic attack, I forced myself to focus on the other elements at play in the room. Slowly, as my surroundings became
clearer, the fear of the crowd grew dimmer. Mirrors were placed strategically around the room, I suppose visually expanding the space, but also to indulge its vain inhabitants. Even the support pillars were wrapped in reflective surfaces. The far wall stood as a windowed space with a balcony behind it overlooking the richest, most glamorous region of the city. Meanwhile, an indoor balcony overlooked the main ball room space.
A bar served drinks beneath the second-floor indoor balcony. Along the wall nearest to us sat tables piled high with food. The aromas wafting toward me made me drool with hunger.
Outcasts in red vests walked about carrying trays of food and drink among the crowds. Each served as a slave. They were marked by black-banded tattoos that wrapped their necks. Until needed, their presence went unnoticed, and when needed, the guests treated them with scorn and mockery.
Circus performers moved gracefully through the crowd. They waved streamers, flung balls of fire into the air, and performed remarkable acrobatic maneuvers. They stood out from the crowd yet melded into the crowd swiftly and elegantly like fish in a colorful reef. Shockingly, many of the guests appeared unaware and disinterested in the show around them.
A small band with all sorts of string, wind, and wood instruments played in a corner of the room. One musician balanced on a stool as she played a harp the size of a truck. The harpist and the orchestra filled the room with soft beautiful music to attendees’ enjoyment. Many chose to dance.
The music hypnotically penetrated every fiber of my being and soul until I felt the tangling of joy and sadness in my veins—like a feeling of a great accomplishment achieved at great cost. I wanted to cry. I wanted to cheer. I wanted to rush off into battle in sacrifice. And I wanted to live with the vibrancy of a new-born baby as I listened to their beautiful tunes. But no one else appeared as affected by the music as I was.
Sometimes we grow numb to the natural wonder and beauty around us.