The Vaticinator

by Namita Singh

delay leaving this ominous place. We encounter no one on our way to the first floor, surprisingly. I quickly sense two auras, one characteristically of my father, as we reach Mikhail’s room. We knock twice, grinning and enter.

  Father is on the laptop at the small dining table. He smiles at Aakir and I. Mikhail however is lying down on the bed, his head propped up high enough on two pillows. His legs are outstretched and his hands are resting on his stomach. It’s an odd sight. Mikhail relaxing? I never could have imagined.

  “Where is Neal?” is the first thing he grunts, frowning at us.

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Nice to see you again too, grandfather.

  “Downstairs, in our room.” I reply, “He wanted to stay put.”

  “You stupid boys.” Mikhail mutters, getting up to sit on the bed. “Aakir, go and babysit that boy. Don’t leave him alone,” he says to the two of us, “You’re not in friendly territory yet.”

  Aakir shrugs, “I’ll go then.” He readily agrees, not even questioning why he and not I was asked to go to Neal. Probably because they have had plenty of time to chit chat while I was unconscious.

  “How is your arm, Josh?” father asks.

  “It doesn’t hurt.” I tell him, “When are we leaving?”

  “As soon as I can book the tickets.” He replies.

  “With fake visas?”

  “With fake visas.” He doesn’t even blink an eye. He does sigh and get up, closing the lid of his laptop, “I’m going to be in the library. The internet doesn’t seem to be working here.”

  “Uh..” I say awkwardly. If he is leaving then I have no reason to stay in the room. But he doesn’t instantly leave. He stands in front of me, his laptop tucked under his arm.

  “And I am very glad we’re done with this fiasco. In future though, I would really appreciate if you tell me things you consider significant, no matter your defenses. Had you informed me of Neal’s aura from the beginning, we probably may not have landed here.”

  I feel my face going red with embarrassment, but father merely brushes it off. He steps closer, enclosing his free hand around my neck, a gesture so affectionate that I get momentarily stunned.

  “And you handled this whole situation with exceptional maturity, Josh. I am very proud of you. And of your partner.” He adds.

  His words, the words I had been longing to hear, make me feel giddy while managing to make my face heat up to dangerous levels. I mutter a quiet ‘thanks’. Father just affectionately rubs my shoulder before moving past me and out of the room.

  Still red in the face, my eyes meet Mikhail’s who had been watching us intently. Wow, talk about awkward.

  “Uh,” I say, “I am going to go then…just, uh-”

  “Sit down, Josh.”

  His tone reminds me of the first time I had talked to him in this very room. The day Jermaine had attacked us. It seems like a distant memory now. Mikhail’s voice though has the same effect on me and within seconds I am seated on one of chairs around the table.

  Mikhail gets up from the bed and goes to his cupboard. I sit there awkwardly as he fumbles inside. He retrieves the familiar scabbard that I have come to know as the carrier of the scimitar. Mikhail carries the sword towards me. He picks a chair, placing it in front of me before sitting on it. The action vaguely reminds me of the same thing he had done at our first meeting.

  “Your father returned this to me, claiming to not be the right person who possesses it. I agree with him. And we also agreed that this should be your property henceforth.”

  “Eh…” I stammer at the unexpected news. “But why?”

  “Because its time you realize your own responsibilities. And if there is anyone that will be requiring this, it’d be you.”

  “Actually…don’t you think it’ll be Neal?” I ask sheepishly.

  “Not at all. The only thing he required the sword was for to get rid of the Occultists. With the Occultists out of the picture, Neal has his own aura as his defense weapon. The one consorting with him is who requires this. Having the vaticinator as your partner is no joke. You should always be too prepared. The Occultists are not the only scary things out there.”

  “You sound optimistic.” I mutter.

  “You don’t get the liberty to be optimistic, Josh.”

  “You should be giving something of this substantial value to father, not me.” I grumble.

  “Your father doesn’t have the vaticinator as his partner.” He replies dryly. “Besides you’re a grown man. Its time you stopped looking up to your father for every damned thing.”

  “I do not!”

  “Sure.” He rolls his eyes. “Keep this. Keep it safe and use it wisely.”

  I sigh and take the sword from him, immediately realizing how big of a responsibility it will to be taking care of it. Hopefully with yielding results in jeopardy.

  “Thank you.” I mumble.

  Mikhail hums and stands up. He picks up a journal from the table, sliding a piece of paper out of it. He comes back and hands it to me silently. There is a phone number with an email-id right below it. I raise my eyebrows at him.

  “If you ever feel the need to contact me. In emergency…or for anything.” He quietly says.

  I frown, “You aren’t coming with us?”

  Mikhail looks at me like I am nuts, “Why would I, boy?”

  “Why would you stay here?”

  “Why don’t you stay here?”

  “This is not my home.” I scoff.

  “And Latvia isn’t mine.” He answers, effectively shutting me up. “I probably won’t be there to greet you goodbye as well. I’ll be working with the council members, discussing the ‘unfortunate’ demise of our rulers.” He says sarcastically. “Your father will lead you boys out as I distract them. No need to attract unwanted attention.”

  “They’ll eat you alive, you know.” I blurt. But seriously, how can he just sit and take their shit?

  “They have been eating me alive since I condemned Jermaine. They’ll succeed irrevocably if I actually flee from my own home.”

  I have nothing to say to that. A man with pride is always difficult to sway. With a few more awkward words, we bid each other goodbye. Mikhail surprises me by ruffling my hair as I leave through his door.

  Two days later we’re stuffing our bags in a taxi at the outskirts of the realm. A few hours later we’re shuffling our bags through the trans-Siberian railway station to catch the train for Novosibirsk. When finally, almost twenty hours later we’re waiting to board our flight, our eyes tired, our movements sluggish, that’s when Neal decides to entertain himself at my expense.

  “Oh, I could ask that favor of you. But you have a habit of ignoring whatever I request of you.”

  Yeah, he is actually irritated that I did not listen to him in front of the Occultists.

  “Only if you don’t think of yourself as a macho hero.” I grumble.

  “Says the guy who is the damsel in distress half the time.” Neal teases, “You need a ‘macho hero’.”

  “Oh, jeez.” Embarrassingly I cover my face with my hand. Father and Aakir are sitting on a different bench than Neal and I. Aakir is busy on his phone, probably texting Silvia. Father is nonchalantly looking around. But it is no secret that they both can hear Neal loud and clear.

  Neal is still wearing those ridiculous glasses. Right now, however, the swelling around his eyes seems to have lessened a bit, especially as compared to two days back. That is probably what his making him less tired and more enthusiastic at the moment.

  “God, I can’t wait to get back to Plutocracy.” Neal mutters after a while.

  Yeah, probably his enthusiasm is resulting because we have only one flight left between Liepāja and Novosibirsk. Now that I think of it, it seems like a distant thing. School, The Plutocracy, soccer, Natalie…it seems like an eon has passed since those carefree days. Neal has all the right to be enthusiastic to be back to being his nerdy teenager self.

  “You would have to ge
t into the swing of things before you can start publishing your paper again.” I comment.

  Neal scoffs, “I can envisage it.”

  I glare at him, “Still, wouldn’t it be a little suspicious for you to get your paper in swing on the first day itself?”

  “I can always write about my adventures when I was away.”

  “Yeah..” I say slowly, “The school would love to read about the Occultists. Knowing how they worship you, they actually may even believe it.”

  “Who said anything about the witches?”

  “Then is it going to be scimitar you’ll be writing about?”

  Neal scoffs, “That’s actually a nerd thing. Why the hell would people read that? I can write more juicy stuff. Like how I babysat you. Twice.”

  I fluster, “Go to hell.” I huff playfully, knowing he isn’t actually going to do that.

  “Oh, no?” Neal feigns mock surprise making me give him a dry stare. “How about I write of you kissing me? Twice.”

  “Twice?” I say indignantly, “I never kissed you the second time.”

  “Well,” Neal drawls, “As far as technical lip-locking goes, there were definitely more than ‘twice’ in that one time alone. You should feel relieved I’ll be writing only ‘twice’.”

  I scoff, feeling warmth in my ears. “I didn’t know you enjoyed it enough to keep track of it being more than ‘twice’.”

  Neal looks surprised at my jab, probably because such conversations usually end up in me madly blushing and remaining quiet.

  Well, not anymore. Two can play that game.

  “Don’t be getting any ideas, Lichinsky.” Neal chortles, awkwardly looking away.

  “In your dreams.” I