The Way

by Mary E. Twomey

  “All I wanted was pancakes,” Alec muttered with a muted frown.

  “That’s all you ever want,” Sam snorted.

  “Not true. Some nights I want to stay in and go to bed early.”

  “Man, you are old.”

  “And you act like a teenager. You think it’s good for Liam to be photographed with that many Fems on his first night here? He’s got an image to protect.”

  Sam bowed. “And I’m perfecting it. Killy’s the serious one now. The eldest of the three royal children of Europe claimed his birthright, so that leaves Liam free for clubbing with me.” Sam spoke with condescension. “Not sure how Killian will sit on the throne someday with that stick up his ass.”

  “Very clever. You should write his next speech.”

  “The people need Killy to feel better about the future of the empire, and they need Liam for the fun of it.”

  “I thought that’s what Suzette was for.”

  “Nah. Their sister’s only good for one thing.”

  “Wow. You’re cynical this morning. You’d think a run would have at least given you an endorphin rush.”

  Sam banged both fists on the bathroom door ten times to remind Liam of the hour. He spoke to Alec over Liam’s protests. “Where’s Brody? It might take both bodyguards to get his royal pain up and running this morning.”

  Liam opened the door and glared at his best friend. “Royal pain, am I? That’s just because I haven’t turned on the charm, yet. Give me a minute. It takes a while to ramp up the million-bill smile.” He gave Sam his best smarmy grin.

  Sam shook his head. “I won’t be taken in by your charisma. Keep that raw animal magnetism away from me, and march it into the shower. I’ve got places to be.”

  Alec spoke up from his place at the table, not batting an eye at the juvenile exchange between the two. “Brody’s chatting up the concierge.”

  “What’s she got? Harelip? Wonky eye? One and a half breasts?” Sam inspected his own chest curiously.

  “She has a pulse, which is all that seems required for you three to let loose.”

  Sam straightened at the affront. “Hey, now. I only take home the top tier. Can I help it if they love my European accent?” He walked over to the table once he heard the shower starting, and sat next to Alec. “Saw something on my run.”

  “A mirror? That why you took so long?”

  “Now who’s the speech writer,” Sam commented acrimoniously. He ran a hand through his messy dark brown hair, leaving a few stray spikes poking out at odd angles. “A car accident. Sort of.”

  Alec’s black eyebrow raised, but he did not look away from his phone. “Everyone okay?”

  “Two guys, both dead. Didn’t see the accident happen, but I phoned it in. Took off once the cops got there.”

  “Shame.”

  “Got a closer look before I phoned it in. Alec, the front of the car was dented into a tree, but I saw bruising around their throats, and one’s neck was snapped sideways.”

  Alec put his phone down and stared at Sam with his full attention. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning you both need to go with Liam to the luncheon today. You both need to go with him everywhere. I know you wanted to do tag-team, but if there’s a murder cover-up this close to the hotel, I don’t think you should risk it.”

  “You’re right. Maybe I should fly out a few extra guards, just in case.”

  Sam shook his head. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. It wasn’t too near. Just keep an eye out, is all.”

  “Thanks, Sam.”

  “I left before getting too involved. They seemed pretty much set on it being an accident. I didn’t stick around to set them right, though, in case cameras showed up.”

  “Restraint? How unlike you.” He held his friend’s stare. “I know you say you’re happy on Frederick’s financial team, but if you ever wanted guard duty again…”

  “I resigned for a reason, Alec.”

  “I know. But no one agrees with your reasons.”

  “Drop it, old man. I can drink as much as I want now. I can enjoy the local talent with this job. You’re the one who should think about switching.”

  Alec permitted a small smile. “No. I’ll leave the royal treasury to you. Had no idea you actually studied in college, but you do a good job. Better than the last guy. Frederick and Harold talk about it all the time.”

  “The emperor and royal advisor thinking about buying me a birthday present?” Sam smirked. “You fishing to see how big your bonus will be this year? Gotta buy me a beer first.”

  “It’s not even noon yet, Sam. And no, I was simply offering you a compliment.”

  “Oh. Well, thank you.” He took a sip from Alec’s O-Negative cola. “Speaking of not that, did you do the thing I asked you to do to Liam’s phone?”

  Alec nodded, frowning at Sam’s theft of his beverage. “Last night after he passed out. I wish you could give me a better explanation, though. He and Everest are close friends. You and Everest are close, too. I don’t get it.”

  “Blocking all calls from Everest Sinclair is best for now. King Sinclair said he wanted to spend some time alone with Everest, so that’s what we’ll give him. Time with his son. About time that family did something together besides fight. Don’t know how they smile so perfectly for the cameras. Everest hates his dad.” Sam looked down at the drink as he thought over the conversation Emperor Frederick conveyed to him before they left for the Americas. “I don’t know what Ever’s up to, but it’s worse than usual. Maybe some time with his dad will do him some good.”

  “I can only imagine what it is if you think it’s bad. Come on, Sam. What’s Ever mixed up in this time? What’s so bad even you won’t touch it?”

  Sam shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest as he tilted the chair back on two legs. “I don’t know for sure, but King Sinclair bought Ever one of the small islands off the O-blood mainland just to keep him away from whatever it is.”

  “So? Everest is always looking for places to disappear. Just a matter of time before he got one of his own.”

  “It was mostly quarantined for radiation. Just became available for sale from the government, and King Sinclair swoops in and buys this almost uninhabitable piece of land for his son that he’s never gotten on with?” Sam waved his hand to move on. “And not just that. Ever keeps calling me, leaving messages asking for Liam and me to come down to rescue him. Sounded pretty desperate. I don’t think Liam would be able to resist.”

  “Alright. It’s just odd.”

  Sam scratched his cheek. “The king and Ever spending time together? Yeah.”

  “No. Well, yeah, that. Sinclair’s a great king, but an average father. Of course, Everest isn’t exactly a model son.” Alec shook his head. “But no. I meant that it’s odd. You’re turning down partying with the king’s son? Since when?”

  “Since I know for a fact his dealer’s not doling it out for him like usual. Ever’s been cutting back on the hard stuff big time.”

  “And you’re disappointed the party won’t be up to your caliber of wastefulness?”

  Sam huffed. “You know, the more you try to finish my thoughts, the more I’m finding out what you really think of me.”

  “That’s no secret, Sam.”

  “Normally, I’d be there in a hot second.”

  “I was going to say,” Alec commented in confusion.

  “But he’s not getting anything from his dealer because his dad’s cut him off from Mike for a while. Getting him clean again. Since King Sinclair asked for us to give E some space, that’s what we’re going to do. Blocking his calls to Liam keeps Li from hearing the desperate messages and running off after him.”

  “Probably best. Liam can’t help himself. He’s not changed yet, but he always wants to try the things you, Everest and Brody are doing, even when he shouldn’t.”

  “Not just that.” Sam grasped around for the right words. “Lately when Ever leaves me messages, he sounds…not right.”

 
“How is one supposed to sound ‘right’ when their mind is chemically altered, or best-case scenario, detoxing?”

  “Look, Alec. I’ve seen Ever on every kind of high there is, but this? This is different. He begs me to come and get him. Tells me his dad’s torturing him. I might actually believe him if he was anyone else. He’s always been a little theatrical.”

  “I’d imagine a few days sober would be torture for Everest Sinclair.”

  Sam snorted. “Just doesn’t sound like himself. I’m half-tempted to fly over there and get him.” He traced the label on the cola drink. “Remember the guy who helped me light Killian’s car on fire when we were having our little row? Didn’t hear a trace of that guy in the messages. Just scared and real upset.”

  “For the record, I don’t know anything about that.” Alec glared at Sam with much disapproval. “I’m glad Killian backed down. You two…but yes, I know how Everest can be.”

  “Ever talks and talks, just like his dad, and before you know it, he’s lit the match, and you’re the one holding it.” Sam slammed his chair back down on all fours. “I’m not saying I regret it. Killy deserved that and worse for what he did to me. I’m just saying I don’t think I would’ve gotten there on my own. Ever’s pretty persuasive when he wants something bad enough. Best to block his calls from Liam, who’s…”

  “Easily persuaded?” Alec scratched the nape of his neck as he thought over Sam’s explanation. “Still not enough to really go on, but a little extra caution won’t hurt. Are you still talking to Everest?”

  “Of course. He’s my friend. But you know how he is. Too many resources. Too few things on his plate. We both fall off his radar and he’ll get antsy.”

  “Fair enough.” Alec went back to his phone, rearranging a few items on the itinerary to reflect extra caution.

  Just then, the door popped open and Brody strolled into the room, boasting his success in the form of a big grin. His blond hair had a slight wave to it that bounced when he was particularly cheerful. “Got her number! Meeting her tonight when I’m off my shift. Literally? She’s a ten. A golden ten!”

  Sam tried to look apologetic, but his smirk was too easy to access. “Ah, Brode. You might have to reschedule.”

  Chapter Nine

  Passing the Baton

  Griffin tried to ignore Marxus. He tried to ignore the shovel, but there it sat, the only unused tool in the yard. Since Baird had been bought, the shovel was unofficially retired. Every day when the labor crew went out to muck the scratch, Marxus carried out two instruments: his and Baird’s. Marxus worked alone now, next to the shovel he thrust down into the earth next to him. If a fight got out of hand, Marxus took his tool and banged it to Baird’s, reminding everyone who was in charge. Baird’s tool was a beacon, a symbol to all Waywards that the Vemreaux did not keep them in line – they kept themselves working hard. They were not cattle, corralled in feed lots to serve the superior blood types. They were people. The distinction was small, but some days, it made all the difference.

  Baird had cowered to no one, not even the Vemreaux Supervisors. They regarded him with respect, for he made their days easier by putting a stop to most yard fights before they got out of hand, which would have made for more paperwork. Though he knew he would never see Baird again, Marxus made sure that no one forgot who was in charge.

  Even though they were separated now, Griffin still felt Baird’s shadow weighing on his shoulders. Baird was the older brother whose shoes he could never fill, and the man he hoped he could both never be and someday be.

  George worked next to Griffin, soothing some of the angst that had been building since Blue had left The Way. “I don’t know about you, but I could eat my weight in mashed potatoes tonight. Krish is on kitchen detail, and I hope he does like last time and ‘accidentally’ knocks in too much butter.” When Griffin did not speak, George prattled on. “He got docked a point for it, but it was worth it. Man, I’d donate one of my points to the cause if it gets the potatoes tasting like they did that day.”

  Griffin nodded and tried to force a smile, but it would not come. His brother was gone, and his sister was under Baird’s thumb somewhere out in the real world. Baird’s job was to turn Blue into a monster. Blue’s duty was to obey and become the killing machine she’d need to be to fight the tyranny. Griffin’s position was not as glamorous, but it was every bit as necessary as the others. The youngest offered up a buffer between the two machines, softening them both. Well, softening Blue, and occasionally staying Baird’s stream of constant discipline. After Baird left, she, George and Griffin laughed a lot together. They worked hard, but they also took moments to play – a thing Baird never approved of. Now that Blue was gone, Griffin’s ability to play seemed to have left The Way, as well.

  “…then it exploded and sent little bits of poop everywhere!” George exclaimed, laughing at his own story as he unwittingly smeared scratch across his forehead.

  “Huh? I missed it. What happened?” Griffin asked. He forced memories of his sister out of his head as he turned to George, but was immediately reminded of her again when he observed the line of scratch on George’s face. Blue was always marked up, much worse than that, but the small reminders were everywhere.

  George’s shovel stilled as he took in his friend’s state. “You’re thinking about Blue again, aren’t you?”

  Griffin looked away and focused on the pile of scratch that needed to be moved by the hour’s end. “I just didn’t hear part of your story, George. I’m fine.”

  “Fine, eh? Griff, you’re not eating. You toss all night. Fine? Really? You even missed a great exploding toilet story. I’m starting to get worried.”

  “I said I’m fine, George. I don’t need anyone watching me. You’re not…” He was about to say “my sister”, but the words stuck in his throat. “You don’t need to worry about me. Blasting toilets. I’m there. Who was it? Dug? Nickulus?”

  George sighed. “It was Vickee.”

  “Vickee? Huh. Girl’s got some moxie. Maybe you should go for her.”

  Blanching, George resumed scooping the scratch into the wheelbarrow. “Blowing things up? Getting into trouble? That’s your kinda girl, not mine. Knock yourself out, Griff. The girl who plays in poop isn’t spoken for, if you can believe it.”

  Griffin chuckled, making a mental note to flirt with Vickee the next time he saw her. Sure, she was three years older than him, but Griffin was big for his age, just like Baird had been. The shocking cerulean eyes and naturally good looks were only made more attractive by his easy smile. Unfortunately, his grin was harder to locate since Blue had been purchased. Now he looked more and more like his surly brother.

  In the distance, Griffin heard the beginnings of a scuffle. He ignored it and continued shoveling scratch.

  “When do you think Blue’ll come back to visit you?”

  “If Baird has any say in it? Never.”

  “Come on, Griff. You know that’s not true. You’ll see her again. Baird always visits you once a month. They’ll probably come together.”

  Griffin said nothing to this, but he still had his doubts. On the visits, Baird mostly drilled Blue while Griffin made curt comments under his breath. Baird had always been very controlling, and acted as if he was afraid that if Blue spent too much time with Griffin, she’d turn soft. Griffin made it a point to spar with his sister regularly, so Baird could say nothing disparaging about Griffin’s masculinity.

  Marxus banged on Baird’s shovel, sending a resounding gong of authority out over the vast expanse of the yard. The brawling paused, but picked back up seconds later.

  “Great. It’s Androo running his mouth again. Baird’s shovel’s losing some of its power, I think,” George remarked. “I’m kinda surprised Marxus has been able to hold down the fort this long.”

  Griffin watched Joodas and Denny wrestle around, landing blows while Androo jeered from the sidelines.

  “Knock it off!” Marxus commanded, pausing his work to snarl at the upset. Whe
n the two continued their duel without adhering to Marxus’ demand, the towering Wayward turned his scarred face to the quarrelers. The shovel in his hand was no longer a tool, but a weapon. Marxus stalked over to the fight, now doubly mad because not only had they interrupted his work, but they also disrespected Baird, and the whole system the two worked so hard to set up. Marxus had scars on his hands, arms and legs, but it was the gouges on his face from his many yard fights that gave him the edge of foreboding. “End it, guys.”

  “Oh, no,” George murmured. His eyes drifted to three guys coming up behind Marxus with looks of menace.

  Griffin followed his best friend’s line of vision, his eyes widening. “It’s a setup!” Griffin called to Marxus, but the bulldog was in battle mode, focused only on the conquest ahead of him. “Marxus!”

  The dull nothing that muted Griffin’s mind since Blue had left lifted in an instant. His five senses heightened as his muscles reawakened. He took in a deep, cleansing breath that pushed life back into him. Baird’s life. A growl started in Griffin’s belly and echoed up his chest until it birthed out of his mouth.

  “Griffin, don’t!” George pleaded, but it was too late.

  Griffin jolted into action, forsaking his tool and sprinting for the center of the yard. Five guys were on Marxus, but Griffin was not deterred. Before the Vemreaux Supervisor could lend his baton of reason to the mix, Griffin yanked his brother’s shovel out of the ground. He charged toward the fight, his vision cutting out a terrified George, a confused Androo, the yard and all sense of caution.

  Griffin snarled as he raised his arms to attack. He turned in a circle to gain momentum, as Baird had taught him. Then Griffin leaped toward his target, and cracked the shovel hard on the back of Joodas’ head.

  Baird’s weapon sliced through the air with inbred expertise. The sound of metal on bone echoed through the yard. Griffin grunted with each blow that tried to stay his assault, but the shovel never ceased. Five on one hadn’t been a fair fight. Five on two? If Griffin was involved, that leveled the playing field. He was wild, and fought without restraint, spit flying and anger flaring beyond control.