Nobility

by Mason Dakota

  The crowd, silent as gravestones, circled us like we were lepers, wishing to avoid but too terrified to flee. Threatened, my muscles tensed and old habits caused me to plan possible escape routes. I imagined a reenactment of Caesar’s death.

  “Griffon Nightlock! You came,” shouted a voice from the crowd. A man pushed his way through the crowd. Josephus Kraine. He walked forward, laid his left hand on my right shoulder, and took my right hand in his (against my will) to shake it.

  I smiled and lied, “I’m glad you invited me.” Kraine played along.

  “Why has it grown so quiet in here? Start the music again! What am I paying you for?” shouted Kraine. Immediately the music resumed, a bit choppy and rushed but eventually settling back into their former rhythm—much of the magic lost.

  Slowly the crowd returned to their conversations. But occasionally a few guests watched us in whispered conversation and a few double-checked their handbags when we stood close by.

  They’re just as paranoid of me as I am of them.

  “Introduce me to the lovely gem at your side, Griffon,” ordered Kraine.

  Alison smiled and offered her hand to Kraine as she said, “Alison Harkins, Sir. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,”

  With a wink and a kiss on her hand, Kraine followed up by asking, “Isn’t it, Dearie?”

  I knew Alison well enough to know she was disgusted by Kraine, but Alison proved a better actor than even Chamberlain, smiling and cocking her head to the side with a look of affection and appreciation. Her acting impressed me, and Kraine seemed convinced.

  “I’d love to stay and chat, but I must attend to other guests. But please help yourself to whatever you want. We have food, drink—” he glanced over at Alison and smiled sickeningly, “—and the luxury of private rooms to feed our more intimate desires.”

  I wanted to hit him, but being my boss and the Mayor of Chicago did grant him certain protections. Enough people wanted me dead tonight. Hitting Kraine and adding him to the list would be foolish. I settled on walking away without saying a word. It may have been rude, but Kraine didn’t respond to me. He just watched us walk away smirking, knowing he got under my skin.

  If you can’t say anything nice don’t say anything at all.

  When we were away, Alison made a gagging noise and said, “Wow. I wanted to hit him! You mean to tell me that you work for that man?”

  “Unfortunately. I’m sorry that happened. The man’s an egotistical snob.”

  “He’s most interested in everyone thinking he’s important.”

  “Yup. Guess what office he gave me?”

  “What?”

  “A broom closest!”

  “Really? Did he at least give you a secretary?”

  “Yeah…one who is blind, deaf, and over a hundred years old!”

  “That’s got to be an exaggeration.”

  “Believe me. It’s not. I’ll be calling an ambulance on a daily basis.”

  Alison giggled, but I was serious.

  We moved about the room to get a feel for the space and those within it…the city’s richest and most powerful people, all gathered in one location, a social time bomb ready to explode. Tonight’s events could affect Chicago’s stability for years.

  “So, what’s next?” whispered Alison. We stood not far from the bar beneath the indoor balcony in a somewhat secluded corner of the penthouse. Scanning each face, I stopped when I spotted Erikson sipping scotch nearby. Our eyes met and he waved to me with a smile that stopped short before it reached his eyes.

  “I think I’ll have a chat with our friend,” I said. I leaned over and whispered into Alison’s ear, where she wore an earbud concealed beneath her hair, “Stick to the plan.” Michael and everyone else could see and hear what I saw and heard, but they couldn’t talk directly to me; it was too risky for me to work with an earbud, but Alison’s long hair concealed one perfectly.

  She nodded and whispered, “Good luck and be careful.” I slipped my arm away from Alison and strode across the room to the bar. Alison, meanwhile, moved around the room to get a better view and be closer to an exit just in case things quickly turned south.

  The one who owns the exit rules the room.

  I casually moved toward the bar, not wanting to appear reluctant or rushed. Erikson never looked away from me. His posture and easiness made me nervous, and I began to wonder if every man and woman here worked for Nebula. I wondered if I had dressed up only to walk into a trap.

  Wouldn’t that be a surprise?

  A chill ran down my spine and locked my muscles with a frostbite edge. My shoes became cinder blocks. My will took charge. I pushed my fears deep down so they wouldn’t show on my face. I had to remain calm and collected, the master of my emotions. (Something I historically failed at).

  “That’s quite the shiner you’ve got on your eye, Griffon,” said Erikson. I didn’t respond as I approached. “I started to think you weren’t going to make it. You are almost an hour late,” he said once I stood next to him.

  “Well you know what they say, the popular kids always show up late to the party,” I said as I leaned up against the bar. The bartender came toward me, but I waved him away.

  “You don’t wish to drink on the Mayor’s dime? Strange, especially for an Outcast. And here I thought most of your kind survived on drunkenness and debauchery.”

  “And what may I ask classifies my kind?”

  Erikson sipped his scotch and said, “That depends on your answer to my offer.”

  I turned my body slightly so that the button camera aimed directly at Erikson. “It’s been a rather long day. Forgive me if I don’t recall what you’re talking about.”

  “Jokes won’t save you, Nightlock.”

  “I can’t help it. I get like this around boring people.”

  “I’m boring?”

  “And dreary.”

  “Really?” he asked, and he looked honestly disappointed.

  “I find men who get all excited by blackmailing others to be rather dreary, yes.”

  “Oh, blackmail is such a repugnant term. I prefer a ‘modest proposal’ at best, or a job recommendation,” replied Erikson.

  “A modest proposal?”

  “Yes, you see it’s rather simple. You agree to cease all aggression toward Nebula, and a certain individual (who will remain nameless), and agree to join forces. Nebula believes you and your band of merry men…and woman”—he glanced at Alison—“can be a great resource in Chicago. We’re on the same side here. Believe me.”

  “You make terrorism sound like plumbers fixing pipes.”

  He smirked and said, “Sometimes we have to clean up the sewers before we can clean up the streets.”

  “And if I tell you to buzz off again?” I asked.

  “That would be most unwise, Griffon. You saw a mere glimpse of what Nebula can orchestrate in a few hours. We have been in the business of building and toppling governments for decades. Dare to test how long you will last when we no longer seek partnership with you? I can promise you a catastrophic show…for those you love most. They will suffer before your own time comes.”

  He glanced over toward Alison and said, “I’ll even make sure that gem over there goes first. Then we’ll move on to that ape she is so fond of.”

  Flashes of red obstructed my vision. Hate’s heat filled my belly faster than the strongest drink at the bar could. I knew the truth in his threat. I visualized swinging boys and blood on my hands—razors of guilt and shame that cut my soul. It took all my strength to remain standing and to control the turmoil of the armies inside me: fight vs flight. I fought for composure for the sake of those I loved.

  “That all sounds like blackmail to me,” I said with a weak tone.

  “Call it that if you wish. I’ll make it simple for your Outcast brain. You take the deal or people die. Is that clear enough for you?” Erikson, growing frustrated, gulped scotch.

  I recognized right then Erikson’s own battle with his emotions. It’s e
asy to think certain strong emotions are wrong or evil—and not to be trusted, but we have them for a reason, and whether we like them to or not, they influence us in powerful ways. The more we deny or bury them, the worse the damage.

  I saw a man questioning his own role in this depravity. He put on a good show, but he grew unnerved the longer we chatted. At first I assumed our genetic difference played a role—a possibility for sure—but it was more than that.

  Ralph Erikson questioned his superiors.

  I smiled and said, “Why yes, Erikson, that does make it simpler, and exactly what I needed to hear from your own lips. You see, you’ve been on camera.”

  I tapped my finger on the button on my tux and said, “You’re familiar with the power of the media. Imagine what happens when something like this gets out. Your entire reputation may be tarnished. You’ll be arrested, and every bit of information you know on Nebula will be squeezed out of you. You’re done for Erikson, and soon Nebula will be, too.”

  Erikson looked stunned as I did my best impression of his weasel smile. I turned to walk away as Erikson started to laugh. “I underestimated you and your friends, Nightlock. Didn’t think you had it in you. It’s a shame that you won’t put those skills to work in something real. But it doesn’t matter; nothing will change.”

  He faked a smile and downed the last of his scotch. He believed what he said. He lowered his glass and whispered, “Enjoy the night. It’ll be your last.”

  A slave waitress in a red vest walked by carrying a tray with glasses of champagne. I snatched one to celebrate my victory. I toasted Erikson and said, “Then I guess I’d better start living!” I downed the entire glass in one gulp and smashed it on the ground.

  Those nearby who heard it over the music jumped and stared, but I paid them no mind. I walked away with my hand raised showing Erikson my favorite finger. I didn’t worry about Erikson attacking me. Erikson didn’t do dirty work.

  The assassin would be someone else.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  I headed in Alison’s direction but stopped half way across the room. I had caught the glimpse of someone familiar and turned to notice Lady Alexandra alone and leaning up against the outside balcony railing. She stood there watching me even after I noticed her. She showed no emotion. I wondered if she somehow knew everything said between Erikson and me.

  Can she read lips?

  As the thought crossed my mind she smirked and turned around to gaze out over the city.

  Why is she here in the house of a man who wants her dead?

  I glanced back at Alison and she instantly read my mind. She shook her head, but I shrugged and mouthed, “Sorry.” If Erikson’s threat proved real, I had a promise to keep. I grabbed two full glasses of champagne from another passing waitress and walked toward Chicago’s most dangerous woman, only that time I was Griffon Nightlock instead of Shaman.

  And people say you get only one chance at a first impression.

  “Alexandra Carline. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” I said as I approached.

  She gave me a quizzical look and smirked. “Do I know you?” She lied. I played along with her game.

  “Should I be insulted or comforted that you don’t know of me?”

  “Maybe a little of both,” she purred. She turned her head to look out over the city. At the same time the wind blew, whipping her hair back, hitting me with the scent of her sweet-smelling perfume.

  I offered her the glass of champagne and said, “I certainly know you. You have quite the…reputation.”

  She raised her right eyebrow and took the glass but didn’t drink from it. “Oh? What reputation is that?” she asked.

  “You’re a powerful woman.”

  “You flatter me, but you’re mistaken. Old, lazy men with more money than sense have power. No place for a woman with brains.”

  “We come from similar worlds,” I said as I sipped the champagne.

  “And what world is that?” she cocked her head and asked. She used an innocent school girl look to hide the predatory nature. She was cute, but she failed to convince me she was anything less than a killer.

  “The world of misconceptions.”

  Alexandra smiled and for the first time sipped her champagne with a happy expression. I couldn’t tell if she enjoyed my company or if she imagined stabbing me with an ice pick.

  “What amazes me is that you’re here tonight while Kraine wants you behind bars after that robbery…or so is the word on the street,” I said.

  “Misconception, remember? Kraine knows I didn’t rob him. It makes no sense for me to have been robbed as well. But it seems the news failed to report that detail. No, Josephus wants Shaman. He’s the one responsible.”

  “Ah, yes, the infamous Shaman. I’ve heard of him. A modern-day Robin Hood, wouldn’t you say? I hear he wears a mask and when he snaps…things go boom.”

  “You speak of him as if you know him…or admire him,” she said.

  Another test.

  “Don’t mistake admiration for knowledge. I cannot help but speak fondly of someone who stands up for my people. Courage demands respect. But respect doesn’t mean knowledge. I’ve just heard rumors.”

  “And where have you heard these rumors?” She batted her eye lashes. The night before, I might have caved under her beauty, but seeing her true viciousness made me immune to her tricks.

  “Similar worlds. Remember, Alex, similar worlds,” I said. I saw a flash of anger when I called her Alex. She stuffed it behind another smile. I glanced inside to see if witnesses would see her throw me off the balcony. I caught a few looks from curious old men.

  Hopefully enough protection to persuade her not to push me.

  Another song started up and couples entered the dance floor. I sipped and set my glass on the balcony railing. Alexandra dumped hers over the balcony and lit a cigarette. She wouldn’t look at me. I guess she was either bored or angered by my presence.

  “A pleasure to finally meet you, Alexandra,” I said.

  “Griffon Nightlock. I won’t be forgetting you.”

  Ah, so you do know me. Now who does she hate more, Shaman or Griffon?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  I strode back in to the main room and Alison met me. She slipped her hand through the crook of my arm and whispered, “How was your chat?”

  Fearing Alexandra could read lips, I turned our backs to the balcony. I patted Alison’s hand and said, “Just peachy.”

  “That bad?”

  “About what you’d expect.”

  “Why did you talk to Alexandra?”

  “I couldn’t resist telling her how pretty she looked in that dress,” I said. I flashed a smile and Alison groaned.

  “You’re going to be the death of us,” she muttered.

  “You know I’m starting to see I have a problem poking angry bears.”

  “You’re just realizing that?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I simply introduced myself. In addition to Shaman, I think she wants to kill Griffon.”

  “You sure do know how to treat a lady. Now what?”

  I took in the room. I was drawn to the dancing couples. They looked happy—free from life’s struggles, never having to fight for food, wonder if they’ll live the night, or be wrongfully attacked and discriminated for their genetic code.

  Maybe it was the possibility of dying, the tuxedo and party, or something in the champagne, but energy bubbled inside of me and begged for release. I walked on air. I looked at Alison and said, “Now…we dance.” Her eyes grew wide and she gave a sly smile. I took her hand in mine and we moved out onto the dance floor.

  I started out clumsy and rusty, but Alison graciously made up for it. Eventually I regained some old skill and the rest was smooth sailing. We spun out into the center and the rest of the world faded away. We and the music moved together as one. It was a beautiful moment among two friends in a time of constant despair.

  “Where did you learn to dance?” asked Alison.

&n
bsp; I sighed deeply, spun Alison around and explained, “On rainy nights when the power went out, my mother taught me. Some evenings we would dance till midnight in our kitchen by candlelight. It helped us forget our troubles. Those are some of my happiest memories. Besides her, the only woman I ever danced with was Evelyn. She liked to dance, but hated for anyone to see it…especially me! Sometimes I managed to get her out of her shell. We would play old romantic songs and dance; it would be awkward and dysfunctional and…beautiful.”

  “Do you miss her?” she asked.

  I felt a spike in my heart. I opened my mouth but no words came out. I choked, lost in the flashes of sweet memories with Evelyn. My eyes teared up, and Alison no longer needed an answer.

  “It’s okay. I miss her too.”

  The music slowed and we slowed with it. Neither Alison nor I spoke for the rest of the song, and I preferred it that way. My head swam with memories. I heard the old music. I imagined Evelyn laughing in my ear as I stepped on her toe or spun her around so badly that we had to let go and reset to resume dancing.

  The music ended. Alison looked up at me and I saw her eyes watering. She mouthed, “I’m sorry.” I smiled and wiped at a tear on my cheek. I expected the orchestra to begin a new song, but instead someone repeatedly tapped a glass with a fork to get attention. I looked to the inside balcony to see Kraine tapping on his glass.

  “Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” he started. “Tonight is the sixty-fourth Red Glove Society ball.” The occupants of the room started to clap. Alison and I stood still.

  “It is my great honor to be hosting this year in my private penthouse suite. The presence of all of you here tonight is a testimony to the growing greatness of Chicago’s elite.”

  I glanced to my right and locked eyes with Erikson. He smirked before he looked back to Kraine. I snarled.

  What a weasel!

  “Tonight, we don’t just celebrate another year of our society, but we introduce a new candidate into our ranks, possibly our first Outcast. Many call him a hero, but I call him a friend. He is one of my many staff members working tirelessly to make Chicago shine brighter. Tonight, I introduce to you, Griffon Nightlock!”