The Vindico

by King, Wesley

  James turned to the mirror. “Can you please send him some clothes?”

  “So, our plan has finally begun,” the Baron said, folding his wrinkled hands on the table.

  The Vindico were gathered in the Baron’s meeting room, seated at a massive, elaborately carved wooden table depicting villagers fleeing from a dragon. The walls were black and adorned with bloodred tapestries of the Vindico’s crest.

  All were present except Avaria, who had decided to skip the meeting.

  “So it has,” Leni agreed from the far end of the table. He was absently tracing a gloved finger against his cheek. “But whether it will be worth our time is still up for debate.”

  “I agree,” Rono said. He had removed his trench coat, revealing the metallic apparatus that covered his right shoulder. “And I still think murdering Nighthawk was a mistake. We’ve awoken the League to our return. How can that possibly help?”

  The Baron turned to him. “That murder was a necessary part of the plan. The League is nervous now. They cannot venture out to investigate the disappearance of these children for fear that they will be picked off next.”

  “And while they cower in their headquarters, we’ll be training our protégés,” the Torturer said. He rubbed his massive hands together. “It’s perfect.”

  “The League will find us eventually,” Leni argued. “And we’re all sitting ducks in this place when they do.”

  The Baron shook his head. “By the time they find us here, it will be too late. Our newest members will turn the tide of this war. We will finally have our revenge.”

  “And what if we can’t get these kids to cooperate? What if they turn against us?” Sliver asked.

  “Then we kill them,” the Baron replied simply. “But to ensure that doesn’t happen, we will coincide the training with a psychological program. Step one is to emotionally separate them from their friends and families. When they are adrift in their own self-pity, they will seek guidance, purpose, and power. That’s where we come in. And to begin that isolation, we will use the announcements.”

  The Torturer grinned. He’d been looking forward to these. “Who’s first?”

  9

  AVARIA SAT ALONE IN ONE OF THE BARON’S GUEST ROOMS WITH the heavy curtains drawn shut. Just enough light snuck in to illuminate the crumpled photograph she held in her hands. It was worn from travel, and the corners had begun to pull apart. But it was the only one she had, and Avaria took it everywhere.

  An attractive young couple smiled out of the photo, sitting on a park bench in fall. One was a woman she didn’t know, and the other a man she had desperately loved. They were both dead now.

  “I’m trying,” she whispered. “I can’t find him.”

  There was a booming knock at the door. Avaria tucked the photo into the bottom of a drawer and composed herself in the mirror. She never showed any sign of weakness to the others.

  The door rattled again, and Avaria answered it. The Torturer stood there, his pronounced, Neanderthal features twisted into a smile. Avaria glared at him. “Yes?”

  “We’re going to do the first announcement,” he said, “and we were hoping to start with Lana. We think she’ll be the easiest to crack.”

  Avaria considered this. She had been hesitant about the personal announcements when the Baron first proposed them, but he was confident that the added emotional turmoil would push the kids toward their mentors.

  “Very well,” Avaria said. “I’ll come to see her reaction.”

  Avaria followed the Torturer down the left wing of the Baron’s manor. The enormous, redbrick mansion stood three stories high with an additional two levels beneath the ground. It also stretched the length of a football field, flanked on either end by two towers, and contained over a hundred rooms. The sprawling property was nestled in a forest some three hours from the closest town and kept well manicured by the Baron’s servants.

  “So,” the Torturer said as they started down a flight of winding stairs, “did you hear? The League has been gathering at their headquarters.”

  Avaria studied the paintings lining the walls. “The Baron mentioned that, yes. It is to be expected with Nighthawk’s murder. They will be afraid to travel individually.”

  “And now five kids go missing within a week,” he added. “Did you see the paper today? It’s on the front page. The whole country is in a panic.”

  Avaria sneered. “Good. They’ll begin to wonder if their precious League can still protect them.”

  They reached the main floor and walked into an opulent hallway with ceilings twice as high as the Torturer. Real gold trim ran along the walls, while black statues of mythical creatures, knights, and the Baron’s ancestors stood between every doorway.

  They turned into the narrow control room, where the protégés’ common area could be seen through a one-way mirror. Sliver and Rono were already waiting there.

  “I just think we need to speed up the process,” the Torturer continued, settling into a chair. It groaned under his weight. “If the League gets the drop on us here, we could all be wiped out at once.”

  “Let them come,” Avaria said softly. “It’s been too long since I’ve killed a League member.” The three men looked at each other uneasily. “But I don’t think they’ll find us for a while,” she continued. “The Baron has this mansion well hidden.”

  She watched as Lana leaned forward on the couch, listening to James tell a story.

  “Give her the announcement,” Avaria said coolly. “Let’s see how she takes it.”

  “There were four League members in the house,” James told them. “Phoenix, Dane, Falcon, and Mind. Those four were close friends and had moved in together a couple months before. None of the members lived alone; figured they were safer in groups, I guess. Well, it was four in the morning, so everyone was asleep. There hadn’t been an attack in over a year, so maybe everyone just let their guard down.”

  James glanced pointedly at the mirror.

  “That’s when they showed up. No one knows how many exactly; the only witness reported seeing a large man crossing under a streetlight nearby and three others in the shadows. Anyway, they must have gotten in real quietly because the League report says that Phoenix was killed in her sleep. Someone broke her neck.”

  The other teens were silent, intently listening to James’s story. They’d started talking about the history of the Vindico’s war with the League, and James was now recounting their most famous attack, the Night of Ashes.

  “They suspect that Mind woke up when Phoenix was killed; he might have felt the loss of her consciousness. Obviously, at that point he would have sensed the Villains and called for the others to wake up.” James shook his head. “They never really had a chance. Dane never made it out of his room, and Falcon was killed as soon as he came through the door. Mind just had time to contact Thunderbolt before they killed him too.”

  “Terrible,” Lana murmured.

  “Yeah. And then, I guess to cover up their tracks, they set the place on fire before they left. It spread to two other houses next door and killed seven civilians. That’s partly why they call it the Night of Ashes, but more so, it’s because of Phoenix. People kept hoping they were going to find her alive in there, I guess, like the bird. After that, Thunderbolt was the only Founder left, and the League went into disarray. Some people thought the Villains had won the war. But against all odds, Thunderbolt managed to rally the League, and they started a ruthless hunt for the killers. The Villains went into hiding, and they haven’t been heard from since.”

  “Until now,” Emily finished thoughtfully.

  Hayden stretched his arms over his head. “This is all too depressing for me. Let’s change the subject.”

  “To what?” James said sourly.

  “Hmm…does anyone have a significant other?” Hayden asked, looking around.

  James scowled. “Is that really important right now?”

  “Just answer the question,” he said. “It will help us get to kn
ow each other. Sam?”

  “No,” Sam replied, his cheeks flushing.

  “No,” James said.

  “Negative,” Emily added.

  Hayden glanced at Lana. “And yourself?”

  She shook her head.

  “A good-looking girl like you?” Hayden scoffed. “You must have a terrible personality.”

  Lana gave him a dirty look.

  “I really need to go home,” Sam said. He was tightly hugging his legs to his chest and had been since James started the story. “I keep thinking of my mom.”

  “Me too,” Lana agreed. “First chance, I’m gone.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Hayden pointed out. “Getting disposed of sounds bad.”

  Emily nodded. “We should ask if we can send messages home. I need to tell my grandpa I’m okay.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure they’ll be very understanding,” James muttered. “They seem so pleasant, after all.”

  “What do you think—” Lana began, but was cut off as a voice materialized out of nowhere.

  “Attention.” James recognized the deep voice of the Torturer. “James and Sam, you will have the first interviews. And we also have an announcement concerning Lana.” It sounded like he could barely contain his amusement.

  Lana perked up, looking wary.

  “While conducting their surveillance, Avaria and Rono discovered something very interesting. It turns out Lana’s father, whom she is so concerned about getting back to, is not the family man she thinks he is. Every Tuesday night, when her father says he is going to his friend Dale’s house for poker and drinks, he is actually meeting a younger woman from his office named Clara Getter. They also rendezvous over long lunch breaks, sometimes at Lana’s house. Her mother is suspicious but as yet can’t prove anything. She has tried so very hard to keep the strain of their marriage from Lana and her brother. And guess what: today just happens to be a Tuesday.”

  With that, the announcement ended, and everyone turned to Lana. Her eyes filled with tears, and she hurried out of the room.

  “That was mean,” Hayden said in a low voice.

  The door swung open, and James’s mentor leaned into the room. He gestured with a massive hand. “James, Sam, come with me.”

  10

  JAMES AND SAM EXCHANGED NERVOUS LOOKS AS THEY WALKED toward the door.

  They stepped into a dark, narrow room that looked out on their common area. Hayden had been right: it was a one-way mirror. A control panel was positioned against the bottom half of the glass and lined with six chairs.

  Lana’s mentor was just leaving, her shoes clacking off the tiled floor. Sam’s mentor sat in one of the chairs, and he stared condescendingly at his protégé.

  “James, come with me,” the Torturer said. “Sliver is going to speak with Sam in here.”

  The big man marched out of the room, and after sharing one last terrified look with Sam, James hurried to catch up with his mentor’s long stride. They walked down a lavishly decorated hallway, adorned as if it were a museum. An endless row of paintings hung on the walls, and the carpeting was thick and purple. Strange black statues stared at James as he walked by.

  The Torturer came to a halt in front of a towering wooden door. “In,” he ordered, pushing it open.

  James took a few cautious steps into the room. It was a circular library, with dusty, book-filled shelves covering every inch of the walls. The shelves were tall enough to need a pair of rolling ladders that stood off to the side. James stopped and glanced back at his mentor. He was so scared that he felt like he was going to be sick.

  “Sit, sit,” the Torturer said, pointing to the reading area in the center of the library. He walked over and plunked himself into a brown leather recliner. “Take a load off.”

  “Okay,” James replied hesitantly, settling into another chair.

  “First things first, just call me the Torturer. No nicknames, please.”

  James wanted to ask what possible nickname could come from that, but he restrained himself. Whatever you do, don’t make him angry, he thought grimly. This man was likely the one responsible not just for the Night of Ashes, but also the Portersfield Incident. James was sitting five feet away from a murderer.

  “Now, I know quite a bit about you already,” the Torturer went on. “I was watching you for a couple days before your fight with Mark. You had it pretty rough. That Sara girl; she really burned you.”

  “Yep,” James said quietly. He glanced at the big man. “You saw me fight Mark?”

  He laughed. “Wouldn’t call that a fight. You got dropped like…”

  “Right, potatoes,” James muttered. “I remember.”

  “Don’t worry about that, trust me.” The Torturer made a fist the size of a volleyball. “Things are going to go a lot differently next time. Tell me, how much do you hate that kid Mark?”

  James thought about that for a moment. “A lot.”

  The Torturer bared his yellowed teeth. “We’re going to pay him a visit in a few days. To teach him, and you, a lesson.” There was no mistaking the glee on his face.

  James ran through a list of possible scenarios in his mind. The Torturer beating up Mark was a prominent one, and he found it deeply satisfying. But this is the enemy, he reminded himself, picturing Thunderbolt and his disapproving glare from the poster on his bedroom wall. Ingratiate for survival, but don’t get brainwashed.

  “So, how are you going to, well…train me, or…what is it you’re going to do?”

  The Torturer leaned forward. “How would you like to be huge?”

  “Like…muscular?”

  “Exactly. Bigger, stronger. Strong enough to crush Mark without breaking a sweat.”

  James shrugged. “That would be sweet.”

  The Torturer sat back, nodding his approval. “That’s what I thought you’d say. I’m going to give you a special chemical to take, nothing you’ve ever heard of. I call it Genome AP.”

  James wrung his hands together nervously. He didn’t like the sound of special chemical. “Is it safe?” he asked.

  “Oh yeah, I’ve already used it. I’ve packed on a few pounds since then,” the Torturer added, glancing regretfully at his stomach, “but I was cut, let me tell you.”

  “So…like steroids?” James asked, frowning.

  “Not even close. Steroids are crude muscle supplements. Genome AP accelerates the development of your actual DNA. It’s about a hundred times more effective.”

  James considered this. He’d pictured himself just about every day of his life as a muscle-bound League member, fighting for liberty and justice. He thought about picking up Mark and punting him through the football posts. That sounded pretty good too.

  “Any side effects?” James asked.

  “Well, it might be different for everyone, but I was fairly unaffected.”

  “Fairly?”

  “Don’t worry about it, you’ll be fine. And a chick magnet.”

  James smiled. “Excellent.”

  “Now, I have to tell you, I’ve never taught anybody anything, so I don’t know how to approach it. But I want you to turn out to be the strongest of these kids, got that? You have to respect me.”

  “You could eat me. I’m terrified of you.”

  “Good,” the Torturer said. “We’ll get along fine.”

  You’re already going along with his plans! James thought suddenly. You can’t betray the League! He summoned his courage and then met the Torturer’s eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Did you kill Phoenix and the others?”

  “Leni killed Phoenix, actually. He hated her. Thunderbolt is the one I want.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll learn everything in time. For now, focus on your training.” The Torturer stood up, partially blotting out the light. “I’ll have your first supplements ready tomorrow. You’ll have a group session with Leni then too, so don’t mess with him.”

  “Why did you pick me?
” James asked.

  The Torturer looked down at him. “Because you remind me of myself at your age,” he replied simply. “Now, let’s get you back. Sam might well be dead already.”

  James shot him an alarmed look, but the Torturer didn’t seem to notice. James followed him back to the control room and hurried through the mirror door, which promptly shut behind him. Hayden and Emily glanced up from where they were sitting on the couches.

  “Where’s Sam?” James asked immediately.

  “In the bathroom,” Hayden replied. “Why?”

  James relaxed a little. “Oh, okay. Did he say what happened to him?”

  “Just that his mentor, Sliver or something, talked to him in his mind. I know, messed up, but then he said Sliver got really frustrated and sent him back in here. Sam didn’t know what he did wrong,” Hayden explained, looking James over at the same time. “What happened to you?”

  “Just talked about my training; nothing really,” James said, glancing back at the mirror. He didn’t want to say too much, just in case the Torturer was listening. “Apparently he wants to give me superstrength.”

  “Sweet,” Hayden mused. “I hope I get superstrength. I wonder what my interview will be like. Probably bad. My guy didn’t seem pleasant.”

  “Yeah, I would be really polite,” James said, remembering the Torturer’s warning.

  He sat down next to Emily and quietly told them about the rest of his discussion with the Torturer, including the murders.

  “Oh, great,” Hayden said when James told him about Leni being Phoenix’s killer.

  Sam returned soon after and told them about the strange voice in his head. Lana never came out of her room. Eventually, they all shuffled to bed, and James lay down, staring up at the ceiling in the same bedroom he’d woken up in earlier.

  What if I take the superpowers and then just leave? he thought. I can join the League and be the hero that ends the war.

  James suddenly realized how surreal this all was. Just a few days ago, he was the laughingstock of his entire school. Even his little sisters were taking shots at him. Today, he’d been offered the chance to have superpowers. His entire life was about to change.