The Crimes of Orphans

by Obie Williams

  They did as such, and as Michael opened the door, Christopher kept one eye on Cleric over his shoulder. He still hadn’t budged as the two began stepping out into the hallway. But before Christopher could lead Michael all the way out of the room, he was ambushed.

  It happened so fast that it took Christopher a couple of seconds to piece it together. First Michael was being pulled out of his grasp and into the hallway. Then somebody was shoving him back into the conference room, pinning him against the wall with one hand on his shoulder and the other on the wrist of his gun-wielding hand. His ears caught Henrik’s voice out in the hall telling Michael to get to safety, and then his eyes settled on the man holding him. It was Thomas, one of the members of his trusted inner-circle.

  “You son of a bitch!” Christopher growled.

  “Sorry, Chief,” Thomas said, holding him tight against the wall. “Sometimes the tides gotta ch—” his words twisted into a howl of pain as Christopher rammed a knee into his groin. Thomas released him and fell to his knees, but before Christopher could make use of his gun, Henrik barreled into him from the side, shoving him against the end of the table. Christopher felt an explosion of pain in his left hip, but it didn’t prevent him from rocketing his elbow back and connecting it with Henrik’s mouth, sending him stumbling backwards. Turning, Christopher raised his revolver to aim at Henrik, and that’s when he felt a sharp pain just below his left ear.

  Confused, Christopher pawed at his neck and, with a wince, yanked out a small black dart that was embedded in his flesh. Turning his eyes towards Cleric, his vision already seemed to be coming in slow and delayed. For some reason, he noticed the apple and knife on the table first, and then the pistol in Cleric’s hand. Suddenly, Christopher’s own revolver felt much heavier in his grasp. He looked down at it, thinking someone was trying to pull it from his hand, and that was the last cogent thought to go through his mind before he collapsed.

  “Fucking prick,” Henrik muttered, and spat a mouthful of blood on Christopher’s back.

  “You couldn’t have done that before he busted my balls?” Thomas asked in a strained voice as he pulled himself back to his feet, one hand on the wall and the other still clutching his groin.

  “The tranquilizer works faster when the heart rate is elevated,” Cleric said coolly. “Besides, you should count yourself lucky. You deserve much worse for betraying him.”

  Henrik and Thomas exchanged confused glances as Cleric went to the back corner of the room. There, he pressed on one of the large wooden panels that lined the walls and it popped open, revealing a tightly spiraling metal staircase that descended down into darkness below.

  “Now,” Cleric went on, “do you two think you can manage taking him down to the basement and securing him on your own, or do you need my help with that as well?”

  “We got it just fine,” Thomas muttered, to which Henrik nodded in agreement.

  “Good,” Cleric said. “Make it fast. You have ten minutes.” He proceeded past them, heading for the hallway.

  “Where you going?” Henrik asked.

  “To get a friend,” Cleric said, and left the two to their work.

  TWELVE

  I

  Rain rubbed his cheek, idly thinking that he was due for a shave. The concept never ceased to be interesting to him. His heart didn’t beat and his respiration was superfluous, but his hair and fingernails continued to grow, just at a much slower pace than humans’. He grew a five o’clock shadow over the course of two weeks, and only required a haircut twice a year. The need for both was usually pointed out by Alex, unless Rain happened to notice himself by touching his face or having to brush his hair from his eyes. The latter would have to be remedied in the next couple of weeks too. Shaving was still difficult without a reflection, even after centuries of practice.

  They had all made the silent, collective decision that important conversation would not begin until Lita joined them in the sitting room. Rain had taken up residence in his favorite chair, a cigarette perched languidly between his fingers on the edge of the armrest. His gaze fell blankly somewhere between the bar and the armoire, near the corner of the room. He had settled into this thoughtful position moments before when he realized interaction in the room was devolving into small talk, a pastime he detested with notable ferocity. So rather than force himself to engage in it, he ran through a checklist in his mind of the hidden weapons throughout the house, the best defensive positions for points of ingress and egress on the property, and all the other preparatory thoughts that become second nature to anyone who manages to survive even a sixth of the time he had spent in this world.

  Alex sat reclined against the corner of the couch furthest from Rain, his legs curled up under him in the odd, birdlike position he often favored. He watched Amelie curiously as she walked around the sitting room, surveying her surroundings. When she walked around behind the couch, he actually craned his neck to follow her to his end and then over past the bar and towards the armoire. Rain scoffed inwardly, thinking his brother might have a crush.

  Or maybe he’s just enjoying the company of the living.

  Rain banished the thought to the part of his mind where dead things lurked just as his eyes slipped back into focus, landing on the young woman when she crossed his line of sight. He quirked a brow as she reached towards the armoire, but then relaxed when her hand hovered an inch away, her fingertips tracing through the air. She was only admiring the craftsmanship, not snooping around.

  Amelie’s eyes moved up towards the ceiling from there, and then suddenly came down to meet Rain’s gaze with such quickness it made him blink. She smiled at him. “You have a lovely home here, Mr. Moonshadow.”

  Rain snorted and Alex gave a short bark of laughter. “Rain, and thank you,” he said.

  Amelie blushed a little at their laughter, but a glance to Alex and his reassuring smile put her at ease. “Rain,” she said, looking back to him. “I like that. It fits your last name well. Very creative of your parents.”

  “My parents gave me neither, actually” he replied, and tapped his cigarette over the ashtray sitting on his chair’s armrest.

  Amelie found that statement curious, but didn’t take Rain for the type to enjoy prying, so she let it rest. Anyway, her attention had been drawn to his cigarette. She eased herself onto the couch a cushion’s space away from Alex and watched Rain smoke with rapt interest.

  “I take it smoking isn’t common in proper social circles these days?” Rain asked. In the brief time since Amelie’s arrival, he had already developed a casual indifference to her presence. By his standards, that meant he liked her.

  “I’ve never seen anyone do it up close before. It smells funny.” She sat back and crinkled her nose. “No offense.”

  “It’s better you think that way,” Rain said. “They’re bad for you.”

  “Then why do you do it?”

  “I said they’re bad for you.” He took a final long drag and snuffed it out in the ashtray. Alex gave him a look that asked him to be nice, but Rain either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Amelie looked back and forth between the brothers, confused. Rain waved a hand dismissively. “Alex can explain in the kitchen. The teapot is ready.”

  Alex jumped up immediately and headed that way, but Amelie just looked more perplexed. “How do you know? I didn’t hear it whi—” before she could finish, the high-pitched whistle drifted into the living room. Rain smirked, touched his ear, and pointed towards the kitchen door where Alex was waiting.

  “Come on, Amelie,” Alex said, “I’ll fill you in so Rain can stop confusing you.” She nodded and stood, skirting by Rain and his oddness.

  “Summarize, Alexander. Not a whole life story,” Rain said.

  “Yes, yes,” he muttered as he ushered his new friend through the door. A moment later, the whistling stopped and Rain’s eyes landed upon the empty space in the corner once more.

  They rested there for a series of moments as he thought about angles and memories and the var
ious other things that an immortal mind tends to ponder when idle. His eyes shifted towards the front door, though, when he sensed something too subtle for human ears. His mouth pulled to the side as he considered it, debating whether it was worth investigating. He paid a brief glance to the stairwell and decided it might be a while before Lita showed herself. So he rose and headed to the door, stopping long enough to grab his coat off the rack on his way out.

  II

  Outside, Rain began walking the perimeter of the house, his keen eyes scanning the night for anything on the move. Somewhere in the distance a bird called, but that was not the noise he had heard. Nearing the side of the house, he briefly regarded the rosebush planted there. He preferred roses to any other plant. They were durable, guarded, and required very little maintenance.

  Rounding the corner on the west side of the house, opposite the side with the kitchen door, he stopped and sighed. There was a tall maple tree that stood just a few feet from the house and Lita was leaning against it, her arms crossed, gazing out towards the tree line.

  “This tree is a security risk,” she said, not looking at him.

  “Oh?” Rain replied, shoving his hands into his coat pockets.

  “It provides easy access to the window of the room I’m staying in.”

  “That’s why the windows have locks.”

  “An intruder could break the glass.”

  “I would hear it.”

  “You should cut it down.”

  “No. I like that tree.”

  There was a long pause. Had the maple been capable of complex thought, it probably would have wanted to uproot itself and slink away. Rain broke the silence when he walked into Lita’s line of sight, forcing her to look at him.

  “Is that why you came down here? To assess the safety of my lawn?”

  She glared at him. “No. I just wanted some fresh air.”

  “That’s just as accessible out the front door,” Rain retorted. “You weren’t taking off on us, were you?”

  “Do you see my fucking bag?” Lita snapped.

  “No…I suppose not.” He looked up at the leaves of the tree, observing the subtle beginnings of color change in them. Fall was on its way.

  Lita sighed in a way that seemed to contain a hint of apology, and said in a calmer tone, “I’m just not sure how ready I am to face that girl in there. I mean, what I did…”

  “What you did isn’t a pressing issue right now,” Rain said. “It’s what you are going to do that’s important, because it could save her life, and probably yours as well. Worry about atonement later.”

  “And if I can’t?” she asked. “Atone, that is.”

  “Won’t know unless you try, and the best place to start is with ‘that girl in there’.”

  Lita nodded and sniffled once, then looked up towards the tree herself, taking in all the intertwining branches and mostly green leaves. She thought that in a month or so she’d be able to see the sky from this spot, and then the snow would set in. She wondered if she’d live that long, or if she even wanted to.

  “You know,” she said thoughtfully, “if you ever have kids, you shouldn’t put them in that room. They turn thirteen and they’ll be sneaking down this tree to do God knows wh…” she trailed off when she looked back to him and saw that he was staring down at his feet. “Oh,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think…”

  Rain waved a hand. “Honest mistake. But what about you? Do you plan on having any children?”

  Lita suddenly looked as if she’d been struck. “What…what the fuck kind of question is that?”

  Rain blinked. “Uh, a pretty straightforward one, I thought. You’re obviously no longer an assassin, so I just assumed you might eventually like to settle down and—”

  “And what? Become some little housewife to an asshole husband so I can squeeze out a litter of screaming brats? No fucking thank you.”

  “I was only asking.”

  “Well don’t fucking ask.” She pushed herself off the tree and shot him a glare. “Don’t you have enough knowledge from however many centuries, Vampire? Do you really have to pry into my brain? Fuck, come on, let’s get this tea and cookies horseshit over with.” She brushed past him, heading around the corner and back to the front of the house, not waiting for a response.

  Rain stood dumbfounded for several seconds, wondering what had just happened. Finally, he just shook his head and sighed heavily as he fished a cigarette from his pocket. “I’m going to kill her,” he grumbled as he retrieved his lighter. He paused just before lighting up, however, and pulled the cigarette from between his lips. Raising his head, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose.

  Her scent was there, swirling all around him. It was feminine, but not elegant. Not like flowers or the spring air, but rather like an autumn breeze, weaving its way through branches well on their way to winter slumber. It was the scent of a fall evening casting its glow over a serene lake. It was the smell of sunset, something he hadn’t seen in so long.

  “Stars, hide your fires,” he whispered, and then it was gone, replaced by the smell of burning tobacco as he made his way back towards the front door.

  III

  Inside, Rain found Alex setting teacups and a pot on the coffee table, and Lita standing at the bar, examining the various decanters there.

  “Amelie’s in the lavatory. She’ll be right out,” Alex said, taking back his previous seat on the couch and looking at Lita. Rain approached her and leaned against the side of the small bar as she picked up a glass and reached for the vodka.

  “Do you think now is the best time for that?” he asked quietly.

  Lita did not look at him as she considered this, but said, “I guess not.” She set the glass back down, trying to hide the shaking in her hands.

  Rain sighed and said, “Water it down,” before slipping past her and going to his chair.

  Lita obliged, then moved to the couch with her drink in hand. She eased herself down onto the cushion closest to Rain’s chair and furthest from where Alex sat, avoiding eye contact with the young man. He was a good kid, even regarded her as a friend, and upsetting him was upsetting her more than she cared to admit.

  “Do you want some?” Alex asked, and Lita looked over to find his soft, forgiving smile and his hand offering her a plate with several little squares of bread. She couldn’t help smiling back, and she took a piece with a thankful nod. She had barely known him a full day, but she was sure that Alex had to be one of the most genuinely good-hearted people she had ever met.

  Moments later, Amelie found her way back into the living room and over to where they all sat. She had removed her hair from its braid and it now cascaded over her shoulders in waves. As she moved to sit down on the floor across the coffee table from the couch, Alex started to get up to offer his seat, but Amelie waved a hand at him. “It’s alright. I like sitting on the floor,” she said with a smile.

  “Alright, young lady, let’s hear your story,” Rain said. He snuffed out his cigarette and immediately lit another.

  “Are you fully intent on killing us all tonight?” Lita asked, waving a hand in front of her face.

  “Well, that depends. Are you planning on drinking all of my booze?” he shot back, smoke jetting out of his nose.

  “Would you like me to wait until you two are finished circling and snarling, or should I begin?” Amelie asked impatiently.

  “Yeah, settle down you two. How are we to sort all this out with your constant lovemaking?” Alex added.

  Lita nearly choked on her drink. “Excuse me?”

  Rain stifled a laugh. “It’s called flirting now, Alex. Lovemaking means having sex.”

  “Oh,” Alex said, his face suddenly burning. “Well, then stop that.”

  Lita rolled her eyes and sank back into the couch, putting a boot up on the coffee table. Rain cleared his throat at this, but she ignored him. He let it go for the time being, turning his attention to Amelie and gesturing for her to co
ntinue. “You have our full attention.”

  Amelie, a slight blush on her own cheeks as well, took a deep breath to compose herself before beginning. “As you know, my stepbrother, Michael Calderwood, is attempting to have me killed. My father is nearing his final days and when he passes, control of Chicane falls to Michael and me evenly. It seems obvious that he’s trying to take the entire city for himself.”

  “Doubtless,” Rain said. “So what do you plan to do about it?”

  “Find a way to expose him, to bring him to justice. But I’ll need help. I have no way of knowing who I can trust and who may be loyal to Michael. I need people who I can be certain have no allegiance to him.” She looked to Rain expectantly.

  “It’s not my concern,” he said flatly. “I can offer you sanctuary for a few days, but that’s the extent of my involvement. Who has power in the city of Chicane is of no consequence to me or my brother.” He glanced at Alex, who reluctantly nodded. He, too, knew it was not their fight.

  “What if it is?” Amelie asked.

  “What do you mean?” Alex asked.

  Amelie sighed. “I…I don’t know. I haven’t quite put it all together yet. Yesterday I snuck into his room, trying to find out more about him, and I found some strange things in his hidden study there. His journal, for starters. It was written in German, and of course, I don’t speak a word of German. But there was an entry—a recent one—and it looked like it was written with such rage. It kept repeating this one word, and the pages were almost torn, it was written so angrily. Beg…erm…be-gab-tee…”

  “Begabte?” Rain asked.

  “Yes, that,” she replied.

  “It means gifted,” he said.

  Amelie nodded. “Yes, I looked it up after.”

  “Gifted?” Lita said over her drink. “As in the Gifted? People with special abilities?”

  “I think so,” Amelie said. “It would fit. Later, he and I were discussing plans for the future of Chicane and he went on about how he wanted to return it to the Old World ways. He was very adamant about it, especially about it being a time before monsters were among us.” Her eyes flicked towards Rain as she said this, and it did not go unnoticed by him. Amelie went on. “But when I pointed out that would also mean a time before the Gifted, he became evasive and put me off to a lunch at a later date. One he conveniently penciled in after my intended demise.”