The Lancaster Rule - The Lancaster Trilogy Vol. I

by T. K. Toppin

  He felt blind—no, blinded.

  But it was getting out of hand. How had it gone from consistent sabotages, calculated protests, and media leaks about the Lancaster government to talk of actual assassination? Lorcan had killed before during the wars, but it wasn’t the same; at least, not in his books. He hated Lancaster, all of them, loathed them and everyone connected to them. That was no secret. And he hated everything Lancaster represented. But murder seemed to be going too far. Or was it? Had this not always been the plan? Someone had to instigate the change. Was that someone meant to be him? But assassination… That was how history always repeated itself, by resorting to violence and destruction. Josie had once told him that. Lorcan remembered his face had burned with shame when she’d said so. Wasn’t he doing the very same thing? It was to avenge his mother, surely? Was it? He didn’t know anymore.

  Think, fool!

  Lorcan ground the heel of his palm against his forehead. Somewhere along the line, he’d lost his ability to reason and think logically.

  His common sense too. Groaning aloud, he thought of all the times Josie had walked in on him while he dealt with sensitive matters. Things that shouldn’t have been seen or heard. He kicked himself in anger.

  His head hurt.

  Lorcan spent a restless night, filled with half-sleep and dreams of making passionate love to Josie, but his dead wife’s face had kept merging in. He woke several times in horror, and with a stiff prick that refused to go away. Shame plagued him, like he’d been cheating on his Carmen. Guilt racked him. Finally, resigned, he had coaxed down his throbbing member with a rough, angry hand that left him ashamed and extremely tired. He hadn’t been with a woman in more than five years and, aside from the mythical fear of going blue in the balls, hadn’t ever had reason to jerk himself off. He was above such base desires. In control. He had a greater agenda to deal with, one where being in a relationship would only complicate matters. He should’ve just placed Josie in a secure place with trusted friends and forgotten about her. But how could he? Not after what he owed to Quin. Not after her rescue. Josie… She drove him to utter distraction and despair and made him think more and more of Carmen.

  It’s not her fault. I’m not being fair to her. It wasn’t fair to her at all.

  Fair to whom? he asked for the second time. Carmen or Josie? He couldn’t decide, and thought for a moment he was going insane. Maybe he was.

  Carmen, yes. It’s not fair to her. No, I meant Josie…

  And Max. Oh, bollocks!

  He’d exposed Max as well. His only child, his last link to Carmen. Even though Max knew of everything, they fought about it, constantly. Max called him weak, cowardly. Sometimes Lorcan wondered about Max and what he was up to with his friends via the computer. But Max was still just a boy and acting out against his father. Just being a teenager. As his father, he needed to protect Max. He wasn’t doing a very good job of that, either.

  It was getting out of hand. But to back out now would be more dangerous than doing nothing at all.

  Weariness cloyed Lorcan’s thoughts now. Right. I must continue, despite what I think.

  If he didn’t, both Max and Josie would be dead before sunrise. That he knew for certain. He couldn’t allow that. He loved them both—fiercely. Max knew what he did, which helped, as he knew the dangers. Lorcan had taught Max enough that he’d know how to survive if push came to shove, if the boy ever used his head and listened, instead of drifting off into his Max-moods. It was a chance Lorcan had to take.

  But Josie?

  She was like a child, uneducated and lost. How would she ever survive? She needed both himself and Max—depended on them. And someone she could trust as well.

  And what does that make me? Can she trust me? Of course not! Am I not the one who is going to ultimately hurt her, who’s going to destroy her? He couldn’t bear the thought he’d cause her pain. But it was true. He would. It was too late now.

  Was it really?

  Desperation prompted him to think. His logical mind ran possibilities, probabilities, and came up with nothing. To run meant to die; to stay meant a slim chance of living, but the soul would be sold. And to hide meant living in fear. Could he do that to Josie? To Max? Which should he choose? So many questions and not enough answers. The only real answer he knew was that hate was a terrible thing; it ate you alive and made you uncertain of the things around you. His hate for the Lancasters made him a classic example.

  From the bedside table, he felt the blue eyes from Carmen’s portrait bore into in. It’s just a picture. Lorcan reassured himself, swallowing, his body burning with shame under the accusatory stare.

  It was too late.

  Ignoring Carmen’s glower, Lorcan sighed and stared up at the ceiling. He’d wait for the sun to rise before attempting to leave the room, not trusting himself to pass by Josie’s bedroom without the urge to burst in and take her, sleeping or not. The violence—lust—in his thoughts disturbed him.

  He flipped to his side, his back to Carmen’s portrait.

  Should he tell her? She’d be horrified. Repulsed! He couldn’t. Besides—it was an excuse if ever he’d heard one—her birthday was tomorrow, and he wouldn’t spoil it for her. Maybe afterward. Yes, afterward, he’d tell her.

  Lorcan flipped back and faced Carmen, like he usually did before falling asleep. Sweet Carmen, smiling like an angel, the sun lighting her hair like a halo.

  It wasn’t just hate, Lorcan thought later as the first rays of a weak sunrise seeped through the window. It was love. That, too, ate you alive.

  It made you absolutely insane.

  * * *

  Lorcan found Josie sitting on the couch, watching television. Again. She wore a scowl; the side of her nose creased as if the very show she watched was vile. It was some game show drivel, and images of scruffy, unwashed viewers popped on-screen to compete for some prize.

  It was early morning and he still wore his robe, but he reasoned Josie must’ve been up for hours watching television. She still wore the clothes she’d had on the night before, and judging from her bleary eyes, probably hadn’t even slept. She ignored him, staring hard at the screen.

  Two days had passed, and Lorcan still hadn’t found an opportunity to speak to her. That, and her seesaw moods, made conversation very difficult. His fault, Lorcan reasoned. All his fault.

  He assessed her expression; it was stony, cold. Squaring his shoulders, Lorcan sat next to her. Yesterday, she had all but bitten his head off when he shut the fridge door, not realizing she was about to get something from it. After that, she’d given him a lengthy tirade about men always doing what they liked and taking what they wanted and never thinking about others, and hoping the fucking milk was off and it gave him diarrhea, and fuck this, and fuck that. And the butter knife she kept jabbing at him made him extremely nervous. Bloody hell, she swore like a pirate; it was a wonder her mouth didn’t rot. She even had Max slinking away covertly lest she turn on him next.

  Can you blame her? He’d kissed her with open passion, and then simply ignored her because he couldn’t deal with the real issue. I’m an idiot!

  “Um, good morning.” Lorcan placed his hands beside each knee, gripping the side of the couch just in case he needed to spring up should she still have the butter knife. He forced a smile, and tried to see over her body to check what was in her other hand.

  Josie let out a soft grunt.

  Leaning in, he kissed her cheek, a quick peck. “Happy birthday, my dear,” he whispered in her ear.

  Lorcan heard Josie’s sharp intake of breath. She froze, but her face flooded with color. Her eyes dropped, staring at her hands in her lap. Lorcan kept his face very close to hers, grinning. She muttered a soft thanks, her eyelids blinking rapidly.

  “Well, I’d like to give you a proper birthday kiss, but…” With a shrug, he backed away. With a dramatic sigh, he folded his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at the television.

  “Why? So you can ignore me again?” Her voice ca
rried a sharp bite. She still hadn’t forgiven him. “It seems to be a character trait with you.”

  Lorcan reached for her hand, squeezed it, and looked her straight in the eyes. “You know I’ve got a few…issues to deal with. And I’m dealing with them. Bear with me, eh?”

  She studied his face with obvious suspicion. A small, tight smile twisted her mouth. It might’ve been a sneer; Lorcan wasn’t sure.

  “That’s better.” He leaned in and kissed her. It was a light kiss, his tongue only brushing hers gently. Pausing to watch her reaction, he then dipped in again, this time holding her face firmly in place with his hand.

  Josie stiffened next to him, as if uncertain how to react. But, judging from her response, she seemed to be enjoying the kiss wholeheartedly. At least she wasn’t trying to fling him down and beat him senseless for being such a jerk.

  Lorcan eased back. “So, I was thinking. Gianni has always said she’d be happy to take you into the city to go shopping. Now, I don’t know if she’s trying to be nice or if it’s one of those empty offers people make, but I thought maybe I’d take her up on that. Would you like that? She’s a nice person. And then…” he carried on without waiting for Josie to reply, enjoying her suspicious frown; with purpose, he ran a distracting thumb along her lips. “Well, I have to give you a little present, so take my card to shop with. That way, you can get yourself a nice present, anything you like; some clothes, and of course, shoes that fit. Girl-stuff, you know. That’s why Gianni can help you with that. Then, afterward, I thought a nice picnic tea outside with Max. I’ll have Mrs. Patel make up something nice and sticky and sweet. How does that sound? Good? Great. And then, I thought, if you like, you and I could go down to the village for a nice stroll along the street and maybe stop in for a bite to eat. Maybe in a nice, quaint little bistro. I mean, it’s a fine summer’s day. We could maybe sit outside, you think?”

  He tried to keep his tone matter-of-fact, but he couldn’t stop the grin. And Josie grinned back. Score! She flung her arms around his neck and pushed him down on the couch, smothering him in kisses and laughing. Holding his grinning face for a moment, she stared at him, those marvelous green eyes boring into him.

  “You have issues, Lorcan. I know. But for shit-sake, don’t take forever about it, will you? It has been three hundred years, goddammit.” She lowered her head and nipped at his ear, whispering, “That’s a long fucking time.” Then she took him in a long and soul-sucking kiss, breaking away only when Mrs. Patel’s trilling voice announced her arrival.

  “Wait.” Josie stared down at him with an odd, half-worried look. “Will you make me a promise?”

  With great effort, Lorcan sobered up and nodded. “Of course, luv. What?”

  “You won’t…forget about me?” Her voice squeaked, small and shaky. “I mean, you know. As in, ignore me, I mean,” she finished in a rush, stammering and blinking.

  What a curious thing to say. He frowned, and watched as a series of emotions played across her face. She looked…scared. Terrified. What could he say?

  “Of course not, dear. Never.”

  Chapter 13

  Gianni Marillo’s hair was a curling mass of black. Her rich caramel skin, wide mouth and hazel eyes emphasized her exotic, seductive look. She was gorgeous. Gianni said she was African-Italian, from Venezuela, but her English was fluent, without an accent. Whenever I’d met Gianni, she was always animated, laughing and talking and throwing her arms and hands about, tossing her mass of springy hair. She did so now as we turned a corner on the street and headed for another shoe store, explaining why she thought I was a “spasdo”—spastic-weirdo—since I didn’t know about EyeDye. It was literally that, a special dye to give your irises a different hue, an alternative to colored lenses. A little drastic for my tastes, but there you go. I was in the future now, and that was the norm.

  Shopping was basically the same, but my head spun; not from the shopping, but from looking at everything instead of at what I intended to buy. So far, I hadn’t bought a thing, which made Gianni laugh. But it was her fault too, egging me on to try this or try that, or zipping to another store to “check this out.” Who could make up their minds after all that?

  Unabashed, I giggled loudly. I was so ecstatically happy. I was out in the world!

  Before leaving the house, Lorcan had muttered a few words to Gianni, who’d breezed up in a sporty, bubble-like red car. He no doubt filled her ears with instructions and warnings about my said spasdo behavior. Lorcan then delayed me briefly behind the front door. He’d already given me his credit card duplicate, a semi-see-through rectangle the size of an artificial sugar packet from my time. It shone with dazzling metallic mosaics, which held all its information. He’d coached me on how to use it before breakfast and made me repeat everything I’d learned to make sure I got it right. Pressed behind the door, he gave me another firm kiss, and held me close. I almost didn’t want to go shopping.

  “You’ll be fine,” he’d whispered into my ear. “Just remember to follow Gianni’s direction. Stick close to her, and don’t say anything silly. And please, try not to swear so much.”

  I knew he was worried, since I’d never been out of the house let alone into a big city. We were going to London, which probably sent up red flags in his overprotective mind. But he also seemed deliriously giddy, and he’d smiled as I hopped with excitement. I’d never seen him like it, and it tickled me to think I was the one who made him this happy. I knew he would’ve preferred to be with me for my maiden voyage into the world, but he had pressing matters that needed dealing with.

  For effect, I’d nodded sagely, but couldn’t wipe the grin bursting to escape. “O-K,” I remembered saluting. “Shall I hold her hand, too?”

  “Josie…” On a sigh, he gave me another lingering kiss, obviously reluctant for me to leave. “Just be careful, eh?”

  With a worried look, Lorcan saw me off. I noted the forced smile for my benefit, but he seemed happy, his eyes twinkling like a proud and anxious father. I’d turned, just before getting into Gianni’s car, and given him a meaningful wink. He grinned, waving back, but he didn’t return it. It had taken me aback slightly, that he’d forgotten what the wink meant to me, so I’d paused and let my gaze linger on him. Should I shout out, chastise him? Perhaps he’d forgotten. After all, I’d only mentioned that incident in passing. I decided to let it go, smiling broadly instead before turning away. But it bothered me, like a nagging thought in the back of my mind.

  The journey soon pushed those thoughts out of my mind. After parking the car in the station carport, the non-stop shuttle ride took just under two and a half hours, not that it mattered to me. Back in my day, it would’ve taken several more hours. The shuttle barely touched the ground when in motion, skimming over a guidance track at lightning-speed. I didn’t even feel the pull of G-forces you’d expect at such speeds. The entire ride was effortless, smooth, and comfortable. What I did notice as we zoomed by were the cityscapes. Tall skyscrapers and metallic surfaces interspersed with the more traditional-styled buildings and architecture I was familiar with. The sprawling countryside held traces of ruins and remnants of past wars and destruction. It was too much to see in one quick, speeding glance. I kept wanting to turn back so I could see them properly.

  And the cars, so many and so different, yet so very familiar, like the imaginings of early designs of what cars would’ve looked like in the future. Smooth and sleek or round and compact, with burnished bronze windows and gull-winged doors, though most seemed to prefer the sliding-door features. Shiny, multi-colored paint and decals that changed hues in different light, or absorbed glare, or reflected light. These cars were all fully loaded with an array of gadgets and features. Other than what I’d seen on TV, I’d only been in two cars so far, the Aguilars’ and Gianni’s. While in Quin’s I’d touched, pressed, and fiddled with everything I could lay my hands on, in Gianni’s I had to sit on my hands to prevent them from roaming.

  Once in the city, I had something close to
a seizure. It was a sensory overload, and I didn’t know where to start first. Minding Lorcan’s words, I stuck close to Gianni, who gave me curious looks, and I more than played my role as a pretend amnesiac. I pointed at everything and asked questions constantly, but mindfully refrained from shouting, “Holy shit” and “Fuck me,” which were at the tip of my tongue.

  We’d been through two shoe stores already, and found nothing I liked, or rather, that suited me. Gianni had taken one look at my hand-me-down running shoes from Max and groaned as if in actual pain. The stores offered only dress shoes, mostly daringly elegant and precariously high stiletto-heeled shoes that secured to your feet as if by magic. Their ever-changing tones caused me to do double takes and grin like an absolute fool.

  Gianni directed me to a more casual store, where they displayed sandals and slippers, moccasins, and loafers. To my over-stimulated eyes, these looked extremely welcoming, so I flopped down on a comfortable fitting-chair and glanced around wearily.

  Where to start?

  “Listen, Josie.” Gianni casually flicked her hair, flashing me a dazzling smile. “I’ll leave you here for a sec, okay? I gotta go run a small errand. Be right back. That gel for ya?”

  “Gel” was the new “cool.”

  “Um, sure.” A little hesitant, but distracted by the soft leather loafer in my hands, I smiled back with a flutter in my belly.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t take long. Buy shoes.” With that, Gianni skipped out the shop.

  We were on the top floor of a three-storey shopping mall, and the myriad smells from coffee, confections, and food—and the sounds of people and movement and everyday life—swallowed up Gianni’s briskly walking form. I stared after her for a moment, and was hit with a clutching grip of nerves and fear, that familiar hollow sensation of abandonment. Around me, life swirled in bright and bold colors amid shimmering metallics and sleek glass, oblivious of whom I was. I felt very, very small.