by C. C. Ekeke
After today’s horrors, Hugo’s friends needed him here.
He exhaled, gesturing everyone forward. “Bring it in, fam.” Grace, Simon, Raphael, and the others advanced eagerly in a group hug. The shared body warmth seeped into Hugo’s bones, feeling so good. The collective sorrow was scorched away by this intoxicating affection. Hugo wanted to hold on to it forever.
“We’re all okay.” His voice grew thick with love for these friends who’d showed up. He had to return the favor—by stopping Mister Quiet. “It’s gonna be okay.”
Chapter 27
As cold dawn light bled through the training center windows, Greyson focused on the hulking android charging at him with merciless yellow eyes.
The automaton abruptly jerked forward as if on invisible rope, now drawn to Greyson. Right before it struck, Greyson thrust out a hand eddy-ing with repulsing gravity. His palm touched the robot’s torso, exploding it into millions of shrapnel pieces. Like hitting concrete from three thousand feet above.
Greyson stared at the fragments with slight satisfaction. He rubbed at his shaved head and the dark-navy aerobic clothes to his sweaty frame. He’d forgotten how therapeutic cutting loose with his powers was, despite his restraint collar.
The new daily routine kept his mind and body occupied. Wake up, breakfast, train, lunch, train, pleasure Thuraya, dinner, pleasure her more, sleep. Rinse and repeat.
Greyson had also learned more about Amarantha from Lady Thuraya’s narrow viewpoint.
“The supers would’ve obliterated us normals,” she’d said last night while Greyson unwrapped her out of another scant evening dress. Lady Thuraya had been educating him about the 2005 revolution when the Carneiros and other human families took over. “You supers can’t help yourselves. It’s in your DNA.” She had at jabbed Greyson's chest to emphasize. “Humans need to govern so the supers don’t destroy the island.”
Greyson had been appalled at Thuraya rationalizing slavery. In the twenty-first century! Instead of debating, he’d explored her voluptuous body with his tongue until her ignorance devolved into wordless moans. Lady Thuraya wasn't malicious like her father. She was just a shallow, rich twenty-something whose sexual appetite had no bottom—as Greyson kept learning.
But Greyson voiced no complaints. He’d surrendered all control over his life, which was mildly nauseating. But a gilded cage trumped prison. Better to play along with these Carneiros and pretend to be content. Then what? Only emptiness and grief awaited outside the sphere of his new life. Greyson had no interest in returning.
He explored this spacious training center, seeing Rodrigo bounce up like a ball courtesy of his powers. They got in half an hour extra exercise before their trainers arrived.
“Just a warm-up.” Rodrigo beamed at the mess he’d made of several training androids. “In a few days, War Games start and we kick the crap outta Bellazul’s champions.”
Greyson forced on a smile. “Yay.” He enjoyed using his powers again, but not to fight other supers for the so-called royals’ enjoyment.
If Rodrigo caught his distaste, he made no mention. “Do what you did against Skylord,” he advised through narrowed eyes. “And no weepy stuff.”
Greyson flinched from that low moment. “Thanks for the tip, Rigo.”
“Are you boys going to keep gossiping like hens or enjoy the freedom before our trainers arrive?”
Greyson and Rodrigo exchanged eye rolls before facing CJ, who’d joined their training for the first time.
What Greyson saw nearly gave him a heart attack. He looked up, and up and up, craning his neck all the way back. Instead of normal-sized CJ with curlicue blonde locks, Greyson gaped up at a twenty-foot or taller CJ, chucking androids like children’s toys.
Greyson picked his jaw up off the floor. “You’re a megamorph!” How had he missed a giant stomping around the fighting pits?
“That one,” Rodrigo grunted, more annoyed than awed. “Always mouthy like she run things.”
In seconds, CJ shrank from giant-sized down to normal and wiped the sweat from her brow happily.
Rodrigo shrugged, watching her approach. “Quite handy in a fight, yea?”
Greyson glanced at Rodrigo then back at CJ, amused. The thirst in the young man’s gaze was unmistakable. “Someone’s been watching,” he snorted.
Rodrigo blinked as if snapped from a trance. “Whatchoo mean?” His annoyance became alarm. “Uh-oh.” Rodrigo sheathed himself in the shimmery forcefield that allowed him to bounce.
Greyson turned to see what had caused such alarm. His breath caught.
Skylord had entered the training center, marching toward Greyson. And by the expression on his bruised face, he was furious.
Now Skylord was in Greyson’s face, dwarfing him by over half a foot.
Things grew tense. Fear flooded Greyson in potent waves, but he stood his ground with a calm exterior. He’d taken Skylord before, but in a fit of madness. And the Amaranthine champion hadn’t known about Greyson’s powers. Maybe talking would defuse this situation.
But not if CJ and Rodrigo were flanking him with aggressive postur-ing.
Greyson waved them off, eyes locked on Skylord. “I got this.” Both reluctantly backpedaled.
He inched closer, forcing himself not to puff out his chest like an in-secure man-child, even though Skylord’s arms were thicker than his legs. “You’re going to attack me? In full view of security?” He glanced at the guards at all corners of the room, their pikes ready for a confrontation. “Isn’t that stupid?” Appealing to Skylord’s self-preservation might prevent a fight.
Skylord quivered, about to detonate.
Greyson braced himself for an attack, consciously increasing his gravity.
Skylord stepped back. “You beat me fairly, Statesider.” He stuck out a meaty hand.
Greyson stared, his brain struggling to catch up. “Well…” He accepted Skylord’s hand, shaking heartily. And like that, most of the tension deflated. “I wasn’t gonna let you kill me. And it’s Greyson, in case you’re wondering.”
Skylord didn’t let go. “I wasn’t,” the Amaranthine remarked coldly. “Solomon Shen.” He yanked Greyson forward. “The stars that burn brightest, burn out fastest.” Solomon’s grip tightened. His dark eyes drilled through Greyson’s brain. “Dourado will be watching. From the elites and royals to the common folk and low-ranking supers. You better deliver in Bellazul, then Merenwjick, then Noordaal, then Angelique and Côte Royale.” Solomon grinned, exposing crooked teeth. No wonder he didn’t smile. “Every city in the War Games will bring their best fighters. Will you bring your best?”
“Yes,” Greyson stammered out of fear. And to get out of this death grip.
Solomon wasn’t satisfied. “Yes what, Statesider?”
“Yes,” Greyson snarled at him. “I’ll bring it to those other gladiators!”
Solomon nodded in approval and released his handshake. “Good.”
Greyson shook his hand to regain some feeling. Solomon shouldered past him. “Some advice. Lady Thuraya will get bored.” He glanced over his shoulder and snorted at Greyson’s shock. “Think you’re the first champion she’s helped herself to?” Solomon kept walking.
The chilling warning confirmed Greyson’s suspicions. He was Lady Thuraya’s newest bright and shiny plaything. And his favored status could end as quickly as it had begun. I better bring it in Bellazul.
Greyson weighed Solomon’s warning as his friends approached.
“What’d he want?” Rodrigo inquired.
Greyson was loath to discuss the pressure awaiting him. “Just giving me an Amaranthine hello.”
“Didn’t Lady Thuraya already do that?” CJ asked in amusement.
Greyson glared at her. “Back to training.” Once the trainers arrived, they focused on conditioning with sprint drills and three miles. Greyson and CJ took well to this routine. Rodrigo was huffing and puffing less than half an hour in. The workout reminded Greyson of the training under Dr. St. Pierre.
<
br /> Before you killed him, a voice reminded. Greyson shooed the ugly memories away, losing himself in the drills and repetition…
Hours later, Greyson lay sprawled on Lady Thuraya’s bed. His mind lingered on Solomon’s warning, distracting him from fully enjoying the wonders of her body. And reminding Greyson what he was to her.
Hunger gnawed at his belly. By now, dinner should’ve been delivered to Thuraya’s room. Greyson lifted his head from the pillows. She was adjusting a sparking, beaded red dress. The evening gown was so skin-tight Thuraya might as well have been poured into it.
She teased him with a grin from the mirror. “I have a surprise for you."
Greyson slumped back onto the bed, taking a guess. “Another new position?” he half-joked.
“No, silly! That’s later.” Thuraya whirled about, her mop of black curls sweeping over her left shoulder. “A family dinner. Father has big plans for you.”
Greyson sat bolt upright. “Oh…” He hadn’t seen Lord Gaspar since their initial meeting a few days ago. And honestly, Greyson had no enthusiasm to. The Lord of the City eyed him like property. Which is what you basically are now… That truth was hard to swallow. “But…” Greyson fished for any excuse to miss dinner. “I have nothing to wear.” Weak, but honest.
Thuraya waved off the concern. “Just throw on anything, and bring your appetite.” She skipped across the room and plopped beside him. “And please smile.” Thuraya scowled. “Unless we’re fucking, you’re always so grim-faced.”
Greyson tensed and forced on a smile. Lady Thuraya cupped his face, stretching his smile further. “Better,” she declared happily, sneaking in a quick kiss. Then a longer one. Soon Thuraya had mounted Greyson with eager kisses, her mouth hungry. “Quickie before dinner, mi dolce?”
She’s a rabbit in heat. “As you wish,” Greyson sighed. Twisting his hips, he flipped Thuraya over.
An hour later, Greyson’s mind still buzzed while he sat beside Lady Thuraya at dinner. The outfit she’d chosen for him was a simple golden tunic and matching pants. Casual but not too casual.
Dinner included exotic salads, braised beef, and pulled pork delicacies. Plus, the most mouthwatering mashed potatoes Greyson ever tasted.
Gaspar Carneiro sat at the head of the table, wearing a dark-green button-down with a high collar, laced in gold trappings. Beside Lord Gaspar was his beautiful wife, Lady Martine. She resembled her daughter except older with pale amber eyes and grey streaks in her mane. Also present were Thuraya’s siblings, twin fourteen-year-old sisters, and two brothers, eleven and eight. The children were polite and polished, except for how disdainfully they regarded Greyson. Like he was beneath them.
Rodrigo sat beside Lady Martine, wearing a silvery tunic and pants.
The Lady of the City needs a plaything too, Greyson mused. Guards in gilded armor with pikes stood in every room corner. Rodrigo looked far too grateful for a seat at this table, even though the Carneiros considered him a pet.
After everyone had taken their first servings, Lord Gaspar focused on Greyson. “I see Thuraya is helping you settle in.”
Greyson nodded, remembering to smile. The servile act made him die a little inside. “Your daughter has been EEEE—” He jumped in his seat. Thuraya grabbed his crotch under the table while acting like nothing was amiss. “Eagerly hospitable.” Greyson concluded an octave higher.
Thuraya’s siblings giggled knowingly. Rodrigo swallowed a laugh. Martine covered her delighted mouth.
Even Lord Gaspar grinned, fingers steepled. “No doubt. Just don’t let Thuraya’s hospitality distract you.” His sharp gaze shifted to Rodrigo. “And your transition?”
Rodrigo swallowed a bite of braised beef and glanced at Lady Martine wolfishly. “Food’s great. Hospitality’s better.”
Greyson genuinely smiled. Thuraya’s divine strokes made it hard to focus.
Lord Gaspar spread his hands disarmingly. “I invited you tonight to discuss the War Games.”
Greyson sensed the threat under the guise of dinner. “We’ll be ready to defeat Bellazul’s champions.”
“Of course,” Gaspar stated, victory an afterthought to him. “But something else needs your talents.”
Lady Martine spoke. “The night before Bellazul’s War Games, House Carneiro will dine with House Perez, Bellazul’s ruling family.” The refined accent of Amarantha’s upper-class flavored her voice. “You and Rodrigo will attend.”
Greyson exchanged a worried look with Rodrigo. From what he’d heard, House Perez controlled a chunk of Amarantha’s factories and oil fields. Greyson didn't know if this was normal, but immediately accepted this as another gift. “Yes, my lord.”
Lord Gaspar glanced at his wife then back. “Aren’t you curious why?”
Greyson wasn’t stepping near this trap. “I’ve learned not to ask questions.”
His response drew laughter from the Carneiros, as if they'd seen a dog do something simultaneously cute and stupid. That dog would be me, Greyson realized, blushing.
“You’re training him well, daughter,” Lady Martine joked after recovering. “We will announce that Thuraya will break her engagement to Xavier Fourmon, the heir to Côte Royale.” She gestured at her daughter. “Allowing her to marry Caspian Perez, Lady Nadia Perez’s eldest son.”
Thuraya shook her head, giving Greyson’s crotch a loving squeeze. “Lies! I’m still marrying Xavier.”
The announcement was like cold water pouring down Greyson’s back. He hadn’t known Thuraya was betrothed. Which meant his time as her plaything would end sooner than expected. Fear seized him tighter than Thuraya’s grip. “What’s the real game, my lord?” he inquired.
Lady Martine offered a devious smile, a spitting image of her eldest daughter. “A coup.”
Lord Gaspar took a long sip of his wine before explaining. “Bellazul has been Dourado’s fiercest rival for years. War has almost broken out between our cities many times.” The Lord of Dourado’s features hardened in pure hatred. “But given Bellazul’s mountain location, there is no way to sneak attack from anywhere on the island without them catching wind. So we will show you off during our dinner with House Perez and deactivate your restraint collars. Then…” Gaspar slammed a fist on the table. Everyone jumped. “You and Rodrigo wipe them out.”
“After their deaths,” Lady Martine added, as if discussing house renovations, “Bellazul will be dowry for Thuraya’s marriage. She and Xavier rule together, solidifying Houses Fourmon and Carneiro’s union.”
Thuraya glanced at Greyson, her adoring expression saying, Aren’t my parents great?
Greyson barely noticed, stuck on the order to slaughter innocents. He thought of Lauren and crushing her bones in a whirlwind of anger. The life fading from his former lover’s eyes still haunted his dreams. Then there was how easily Greyson had compacted Dad into a ball of broken bones and bloodied flesh. Grief seeped through his veins. Not for killing the old bastard, which he still relished, but for what that had surely done to his mother and sister. Greyson closed his eyes to stop incoming tears. Maybe he should have jumped out of that Sunbridge window days ago.
“A question if I may, my lord,” Rodrigo asked, returning Greyson’s attention to the feast.
Lord Gaspar nodded. “You may.”
Rodrigo cleared his throat. “After taking out House Perez, you be surrounded by their soldiers. And they will see your armies coming.”
Greyson grasped why Lord Gaspar was so confident. “Unless there’s an underground attack?”
Lord Gaspar exchanged a quick brow raise with his wife, impressed. “The benefit of dominating Amarantha’s mining trade. During our dinner, my forces will enter Bellazul through subterranean caverns and destroy their armies. You two twill kill House Perez on my signal.”
Thuraya draped loving arms around Greyson’s shoulders. “Didn’t I say Father had plans for you?”
Rodrigo bowed, eager to serve. “As you command, Lord Gaspar.” All eyes turned to Greyson.
&nb
sp; Don’t you dare grow a conscience, Ghost-Lauren’s voice whispered as Thuraya’s fingers stroked his neck. You know what happens if you do. Once again, Ghost-Lauren spoke the truth.
A glance around the ornate room showed no sign of his ex-lover’s ghost.
If Greyson refused, they’d find another assassin. Then he might be killed. And these last few days, Greyson had rediscovered this pesky desire to live. Thank God the real Lauren wasn’t here to see what he’d become.
“As you command, Lord Gaspar,” Greyson repeated with a fake smile, taking the coward’s path again.
Chapter 28
“I’ve searched the campus after the authorities and cleanup crews left,” Hugo explained, openly frustrated. “Mister Quiet’s liger was definitely at Paso High. But with the explosion and so many people around school, the trail’s gone cold. Same with the places where the students were kidnapped.” He clenched his teeth in anger. “How could no one notice a liger move in plain sight?”
“There’s got to be another way he’s getting around San Miguel,” Ms. Ortiz replied, one arm resting on the couch headrest. “Check the sewers beneath your school and where those students were kidnapped.” She sat with Hugo in his living room speaking quietly, wearing one of the loudest off-the-shoulder muumuus in her wardrobe, her long hair in a donut bun. It still cracked Hugo up knowing that one of the most powerful heroes in the world disguised herself as an airy-fairy flowerchild. With Uncle Sione helping Mom cook in the kitchen, they had to speak more quietly. Zelda, setting the table, wandered in and out of the kitchen.
“Hadn’t thought of that.” Hugo ran a weary hand through his stubbly hair, noticing some growth. Maybe he’d grow it out again. “I’ll look after dinner.”
Four days had passed since the bombing, which made national news. All San Miguel Schools, including Paso High, were closed until Mister Quiet had been caught. To Hugo’s chagrin, teachers still emailed schoolwork.
He’d been interviewed by local police and the FBI. Lying to San Miguel PD had given him some guilt. But the FBI had scared the crap out of Hugo. Thanks to Ms. Ortiz’s coaching, he’d survived their grilling. Reporters had swarmed the house for two days, which made leaving to hunt for Mister Quiet difficult. Thankfully, their interest eventually died off.