Divine Born

by O. J. Lowe

  Something had started to slip through Pete’s head as he saw the door in question, apartment five-twenty, he saw the mat on the floor in front of it, watched as Theo bent over, pulled it aside. The glint of metal underneath caught his eye, he nodded to himself as his partner picked the key up and slid it into the lock.

  “Nobody here’ll touch it,” he said. “Buildings like this have long memories. There’s always someone here who’ll speak for the rest of them, a nominative leader. They don’t have much power, but they’ll make sure certain rules get followed. One of them is don’t fuck with John Cyris’ rooms and you’ll not have your legs broken.”

  “Nice to have that sort of power.”

  “Only if it’s not being directed against you,” Theo said, turning the key. He threw the door open, the light burst out and Pete wondered if the lights were meant to be on. The second thought that struck him was the immediate realisation upon entry they weren’t alone in the apartment.

  It had a lived-in look, he had to give it that. A home-like vibe he hadn’t experienced in a while since leaving home. Most temporary residences didn’t have anything like it. People came, and they went, they didn’t have the chance to leave their mark. Probably for the best. Nobody wanted to live in a place that felt like it still belonged to someone else.

  Three men and a woman stood towards the back of the room, four pairs of eyes on him and Theo immediately, an extra pair of black eyes coming up out of coats as blasters were levelled at them. Neither Cyris nor the woman went for weapons, the men with them were the ones holding them. If he had to make a guess, they looked like bodyguards, maybe hired muscle, big men cut from a similar cloth, shaven heads, beardless and youthful muscle not quite run to fat yet but were fighting a losing battle with time. Cyris, he recognised from the news.

  “Close the door,” one of them said. Pete thought about running, wondered about it for all of a second before deciding against it. He wasn’t the greatest of runners, far from the worst but he wasn’t faster than a blaster bolt. These two men looked like killers, like they wouldn’t hesitate if a choice was to be made.

  “Close it,” Theo muttered out the corner of his mouth. “Don’t fuck around here.”

  Pete nodded, turned, was halted by a cough from muscle stood closer to the woman than Cyris. “Slowly, asshat!”

  “Theobald?” Cyris asked, surprise in his voice. “What are you doing here, son?”

  He could see Theo bristle at the endearment. “Don’t call me son,” he muttered, pulling his jacket tighter around his body.

  “Fine. Where’s your girlfriend, my boy?”

  Seeing someone else aggravate Theo might have been the highlight of his week, the way his partner looked like he wanted to leap on him was priceless. The cost was too high, it had kept him stationary for the time being.

  “Somewhere else,” Theo growled. “What are you doing here?”

  “Bit of business. I could ask you the same question, lad.” The smile on Cyris’ face lacked anything approaching fatherly warmth, it held suspicion and anger, the expression of a surprised enemy. “You’ll have to excuse me, Madame Tao, but…”

  The woman had risen to her feet, Pete took her in for the first time. Burykian, small of stature but undeniably lovely, there was a certain sense of agelessness about her that brought about a great deal of confusion in his heart. His first impressions of her was she’d barely left her teens, yet he looked closer at her, narrowed his eyes to study here and he wasn’t entirely sure that he liked what he saw. Her eyes hinted at her true age, they juxtaposed between wisdom and cruelty. Not a woman he’d like to get to know better, her hands curled like claws across her knees.

  “Son?” she asked, studying Theo. “You know, the family resemblance I do see.”

  Theo didn’t blink. “People always said I took after my mother.”

  “Yes,” Madame Tao said. “They would.”

  If things had been priceless before, the shock that flashed across Theo’s face like he’d been punched was beyond that, truly a treasure beyond measure. Pete guessed it was some sort of measured insult, something designed hardily to get at him.

  “Gentlemen, please have a seat,” Cyris said. “Step away from the door, our business is just about concluded here.”

  “Mister Cyris,” Madame Tao said, a warning tone in her voice. “I don’t know what these two men have seen or heard, but…”

  “Nothing!” Pete piped up. “We heard nothing. Just wandered in here entirely by mistake.”

  She gave him a withering look. “I doubt that. Nothing happens by chance in this world. You had a plan to come here and I want to know why.”

  “Looking for a place to crash for a bit,” Theo said. “Didn’t know anyone was here. Used to come here with him when I was a kid all the time.” He pointed at Cyris. “Usually for meetings not a million miles away from what this looks like.”

  Pete winced, wished he hadn’t added that part. Tao’s expression moved from thinly veiled anger to outright outrage. “Search them,” she said, gesturing her head towards her goon. “Make sure this isn’t more than it appears.”

  Chapter Twenty-One. Only Children.

  “Does our upbringing affect who we are? Nay, more than that, does it affect who we become? These two competitors, they couldn’t have had more drastic early lives. Matthew Arnholt has a paragon as a father. Theobald Jameson has a complete bastard. Now, if your life was to depend on one of these two fighting for it, who would you pick? Circumstances shape us, they affect the world around us. We can no more fight against them than we can nature herself.”

  Professor David Fleck about the same time Theobald Jameson fought Matthew Arnholt in the Quin-C, six months ago.

  It hadn’t taken them long to discover the Unisco logos on the backs of their shirts, Pete had tried to brace himself for it, had found his resistance broken as the first punch had driven him to the ground, pain shooting through his body, legs no longer able to hold him up. Theo had seen the same treatment, he was sure he’d seen a look of consternation across Cyris’ face as his son hit the ground.

  Fuck though, the muscle was huge, he’d felt every ounce of weight driven into his kidneys, wasn’t even sure he could move to muster a resistance as he felt huge fingers grab his arm, yank him towards the middle of the room, he could hear Theo moaning too.

  “There’s no need for this, Madame Tao,” Cyris said. “I’ll deal with it. My problem after all.”

  It was his turn to receive a withering look, she folded her arms, tapped her foot on the floor for a few seconds as she looked him up and down. “You invited me here to make a deal,” she said. “You assured me that nobody knew about this place.”

  “Nobody does know about this place. Unisco certainly doesn’t.”

  She gestured violently towards the two of them, Pete saw a manicured nail driven in their direction. “There’s two of them on the floor and you’re trying to tell me something entirely inconsistent with that fact.”

  “My son has always had a somewhat rebellious nature within him. Now that, he does get from his mother,” Cyris said. If he was perturbed by her reaction, he didn’t show it. “You can only try to beat it out of them so many times, especially in these days. People get so very upset when your son shows up with bruises.”

  “I don’t want excuses, Cyris. I don’t care if he is your son. I want this problem dealt with or our arrangement cannot take place.”

  Theo stuck his head up, spat blood out onto the floor with a rasping sound that might have been a laugh. “So much for going straight, old man. A full pardon for everything and you jump straight back into dealing with people like her.”

  His response was a boot to the stomach, cutting off his words violently, his body wracked with choking. Still he tried to laugh, his face contorted with pain as he shuddered. Pete had always guessed he was a little crazy, this was downright unsettling.

  “People like me,” Madame Tao said, a lilting laugh seeding her words. “Maybe he d
oesn’t know what’s going on here.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time,” Cyris said. “My son often thinks he knows more than he truly does. He never quite seemed to grasp the concept ignorance and bliss are twin sides of an identical credit.”

  “Fuck you, dad,” Theo groaned. “I got tired of hearing your voice a long time ago and it’s not improved with age.”

  “Think those beatings never took hold,” Madame Tao said. “Discipline and punishment, Mister Cyris, discipline and punishment. Two things missing from today’s youths.”

  “He always did like to rebel,” Cyris said. “Joining Unisco though…” He looked at the Burykian woman. “I’ll deal with this. You and your man, leave. It won’t come back on you. Nobody will ever see them alive again. Him or Jacobs.”

  Huh… Cyris knew who he was. That wasn’t particularly reassuring. He had a famous face and they hadn’t fitted him for one of those Unisco facial implants yet. Mufflers or whatever they called them. He’d been looking forward to that, he’d had this wild thought about using one to screw with Scott next time he saw him. All manner of mischief could be gotten up to with one. Mess with immediate memories, screw with videocams, he’d looked forward to it all. Somehow, he got the feeling they’d walked into the end of their brief Unisco careers right now. All because he’d listened to Theo.

  “I’d like to believe that, Mister Cyris. I really would. Never trust a man to turn on his own blood,” she said. “That bond is not so easily broken, bent yes, strained absolutely. Broken though is difficult.”

  “You’ve seen what my relationship with him is like,” Cyris said. He looked to his own goon. “Rodolfo, restrain them both. Make sure they can’t get away.” The portable mountain stood next to him walked towards them, boots thundering against the floor, Pete tried to get up, fresh waves of pain washing through him. He rose partway, collapsed in agony. Tao’s own bodyguard had done a number on him.

  He didn’t know where they’d pulled the rope from, but being lashed to a chair wasn’t pleasant, he’d tried to break free and received a backhander for his trouble. “Less of it!” Rodolfo had barked, his voice lighter than Pete had expected for someone so big. Behind him, he could see Theo was in the same predicament, could see him out the corner of his eye.

  They’d planned badly. He’d hoped and hoped they’d be able to survive this test, now he just wanted to live through this. They’d hidden here, out of the way of those hunting them and they’d never find them. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

  “I try to be a father to him, he doesn’t want to be my son. You cannot break what has never been whole to start with, Madame Tao,” Cyris said. “As much as it pains me to admit it, perhaps the best thing to do is remove the black mark from my life, start over anew. This deal is important to me.”

  “Then prove it,” she said. “These two are famous. I ever see them again, my people will be looking for you, Mister Cyris. Our compact will be broken. Kenzo Fojila never forgets. It never forgives betrayal. Your life will be forfeit. You’ll die broken and alone, nobody will ever see you again, nobody will ever give you a second thought. Such is the nature of our vengeance where betrayal is concerned.” She straightened herself up, nodded to her muscle who opened the door for her. “I’m choosing to test you here, John. You get one chance and one alone. Do not make the wrong choice.”

  Kenzo Fojila? The assassins? Everyone knew about them, the famed Burykian killers for whom much had been spoken but little truly confirmed. Most of the stuff came from the media, sensationalised for drama and entertainment but it didn’t change the fact that they existed. Why would Cyris want assassins? He didn’t know. He doubted it’d make much difference. Tao had been right, it was hard to shoot someone you were related to. Which’d mean he was probably going to die first.

  They were alone, just the four of them, as the door closed behind them and the sound of Madame Tao’s humming slowly faded down the corridor. Cyris shook his head, Pete was sure he could almost see a look of sorrow on his face. He had to be imagining it. If Cyris was anything like his son, he wasn’t even sure he’d have emotion beyond extremely pissed off.

  “Well, boys, you’ve put me in a rather unfortunate situation here,” Cyris said. “Theobald, I never got the chance to congratulate you on your achievements at the Quin-C…”

  “You can shove your congratulations where the sun won’t touch them!” Theo said, the fury heavy in his voice. “I don’t want them. If you’re going to bloody kill us, get the fuck along with it so I don’t have to listen to your self-agonising bullshit!”

  “Theo,” Pete said. His mouth felt sensitive, delicate even. Maybe the blows had knocked loose a few teeth. He ran his tongue across them, couldn’t immediately feel anything. Maybe not. “You might be in a hurry to die, I’m not.”

  “There are worse things than death, Mister Jacobs,” Cyris said. “A lot worse, believe me. Death is the end, pain is just the start. I think the manner of your death depends on my son, you know that?”

  “Oh, fuck me!” Theo swore. “You’re going to turn the chance to kill me into a fucking torture therapy session? What the hells is wrong with you?”

  “That’s what the hells is wrong with you, father,” Cyris said, wagging his finger. “And less of the foul language, I didn’t raise you to talk like that.” Pete heard Theo exhale sharply, his breathing heavy and rapid. He was glad he couldn’t see his face for he doubted it’d be a pleasant sight. “I never got the chance to tell you before how proud I was when I saw you last. Going to Carcaradis Island, it was clearly good for you. That girl, I never thought I’d see that side of you. The way she stood up to me for you, that was impressive. So much fire for one so tiny.”

  Theo said nothing. Pete was aware painfully of Rodolfo stood between them, too much weight of muscle and flesh for him to not be noticed.

  “Answer me, boy!”

  Still Theo said nothing, Pete saw Cyris nod at his goon and the fist swept out, caught him in the side. Pete bellowed in pain, thought he felt something snap, fire lanced through him. He hoped he’d imagined the snap, he’d never felt pain like that before.

  “Your friend suffers for your insolence,” Cyris said. “You know that. Neither of you die until you say what I want you to hear.”

  Theo laughed bitterly. “He’s not my damn friend, just someone they forced me to work with. You want to whale on someone, might as well do it to me. Come on, father. Let your fucking ape at me. Maybe my screams will convince you I said what you want to hear.”

  It was Cyris’ turn to laugh. “You know, boy, I never doubted that stubborn spirit in you. Should have guessed you’d pick that up. Your mother had it. I had it. You’re worse than both of us. If I told you the sky was blue, you’d disagree with me just to be contrary. This isn’t a game, Theobald. You defy me here and it will grant you a painful end. I don’t have a choice in that matter. You’ve tipped my hand. Your only option is to make it as easy for both of us.”

  Pete snorted, sent fresh pain lancing through him. That had been a mistake. “You ever met your son? He’s not going to make it easy, is he?”

  “You know,” Cyris said. “For someone who isn’t your friend, Theobald, he seems to know you remarkably well. And he’s right, I think it’s unfortunate to say.”

  He nodded his head, Rodolfo’s fist swept out again. The blow probably wasn’t anywhere near as hard this time, little more than a slap to Pete’s already injured side. It didn’t need to be, even the slightest touch hurt like the blazes and he screamed in pain.

  “As a son could go, you are the most stubbornly unhelpful fruit of my loins you could possibly be. Tell me what I want to hear.”

  Rodolfo hit him on the other side this time, Pete flinched, tried to twist his body away, only brought fresh new sensations of agony through himself, pained whimpers slipped from his mouth and he hated himself for it.

  “Interesting thing about Mister Rodolfo right there. Good muscle is hard to find. Almost all my people are go
ne. Silas, he died. Jenghis, she died. Mara, well I don’t know. She’s lost to me forever now.”

  Pete heard the crack of laughter break from Theo, pure mirth undiluted by the seriousness of the moment. Cyris’ face furrowed, a look of bemusement and then he lashed out himself, cracked his son across the jaw.

  “What’s so funny, son?”

  Theo spat, Pete heard something slap harsh against the ground and another growl of laughter. “Wouldn’t be funny if I told you, would it? Dad.” The last word came out almost mocking.

  “As I was saying about Mister Rodolfo. He has a vested interest in preservation, mine, and pain, yours. Claudia Coppinger set a standard, you see. Apparently, nobody takes you seriously unless you’ve got three hundred pounds of psychotic muscle at your beck and call.”

  “Nobody takes you seriously anyway,” Theo growled. “Not anymore. You used to be a big fish and look at you now. You’re hiding in this shithole apartment, you’re not a grand figure any longer. People got you worked out, sussed you’re a fucking coward!”

  “Nobody has me worked out, Theobald. Not the people out there, not Unisco and certainly not you. You don’t know me half as well as you think you’d like to.” He smiled coolly at his son. “And I’m certainly not a coward. I prefer opportunist.”

  “I’ve known you most of my life and I’ve got no damn interest in extending it. What do you think that says about you?”

  “That I’ve got an ungrateful little bastard for a son. Should have drowned you at birth.” The words were laced with venom, Pete heard, Cyris almost hissing like a kettle now. “I would have done. I wanted an heir, someone to take my place when I passed but the Divines gave me you. No, your mother gave me you.”

  “Don’t talk about her. She was worth fifty of you.”

  “Your mother never told you the truth about herself, did she?” Cyris hadn’t let up on the venom, now he laughed. “She told me. She told me a lot, more than I wanted to know. I think I was happier not knowing. Made so much sense in the way you turned out. You could have been grand, but you chose to be mundane.”