A chill deep in his bones from spending too much time outside, Seb went to the front room next. The basket next to the fireplace overflowed with wood. His dad never liked to run out of anything. The cupboards always had two of each item because he liked to have a spare. The amount of times he’d shouted at Seb for not telling him when he’d used up the last jar or can of whatever product they’d run out of. The slightest hint of a smile lifted the sides of Seb’s mouth to think about it now.
Even if some of the other supplies in the house ran out, firewood had always been a constant. In fact, Seb had never seen the bucket go any lower than three-quarters full. If any of the family passed comment, they’d be reminded of the great sandstorm years previously that meant no one could get out of their houses for days. Several old people had died because of the cold.
“Yeah, Dad,” Seb said, continuing the argument in the empty house, “but they were old, and it was twenty-five years ago. So, no, I don’t remember it.” The sound of his own voice echoed through the place. It highlighted his forced tone of trying to find humour where he had none. He swallowed a gritty gulp, grief adding to the burn in his throat.
It took about fifteen minutes before the fire kicked out enough heat for Seb to remove his cloak. For a moment, he considered burning it. Horrible thing, and he’d paid through the nose for it. Instead, he threw it on the sofa and fell backwards into his dad’s chair. Dust kicked up from not being used for years, but after a minute it settled and Seb revelled in the warmth of the open fire and his position directly in front of it.
Exhaustion ran through Seb’s veins, his muscles turning to lead as he listened to the hiss, pop, and crackle of the fire. The flames danced for him, hypnotising him and taking some of his many worries away. Buster would call at some point. Until then, he just had to wait.
Seb looked around the room at the photographs on display. Always fair, there were two pictures of him and two pictures of his brother, Davey, the only remaining family member not dead. Every other photo of the twenty-three was of his mum. As he looked at them, the details of each image faded away, blurring behind his spread of tears. He’d barely had a chance to get to know her. He barely knew himself at nine years old.
Time passed, Seb’s cheeks turning sodden with his tears. He had to remember why he’d come back to the house. Owsk had told Seb about the prophecy. One of the many beings to tell him what they saw. He had something in his blood. Something that meant he was destined for great things. The gift had been passed down from his mother. That was why he’d come back to his dad’s home. Surely he’d find something there.
Seb’s gaze returned to the only family photo in the room. Above the fireplace, it had his mum and dad in the middle. Davey sat on one side, him on the other. It showed a time when they were happy. A time he didn’t remember.
Maybe Seb should visit Davey. His only remaining relative, and someone who shared his blood. Maybe Seb’s only part in the prophecy would be to help his brother realise his full potential. Maybe Davey carried the special talents buried deep within their mother’s genes.
Whenever Seb had wanted to visit Davey in the past, he’d always been told no. But he hadn’t tried for years. Now he’d returned to Danu, he had to give it another go.
Yes, you should.
The voice caught Seb off guard and he looked around the room. “Mum?”
Nothing.
“Should I go and see Davey?”
Yes.
As much as he tried to hold them back, Seb’s tears returned in a heavy wave.
Chapter 27
It took several hours and a river of tears before Seb felt like he could move again. Once he’d started crying, it took a huge effort to stop. The fire now glowed, the roaring flames of a few hours ago just a distant memory buried in the embers. Although his body still ached, it had done him good to rest up.
For the entire time Seb had sat in his dad’s seat by the fire, he’d waited. He’d waited for the energy and resolve to get up, but more importantly, he’d waited for the voice to return to him. He’d even muttered, “Mum?” once or twice in the hope she’d say something. She didn’t.
Seb put his hand on his stomach when it rumbled. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate. Would there still be food in the kitchen? Probably. Two of everything. But would it still be edible?
At only twenty-seven, Seb shocked himself when he groaned as he stood up out of his seat. His dad had always said one of the first signs he was getting old came when he started making noises to help him stand up. The thought of it made him smile, but a maudlin pang rode on the back of it.
Like the rest of the house, the kitchen hadn’t been touched since Seb had been there last. Now he had daylight streaming through the un-shuttered windows, he saw the dust motes dancing in the air. They ran up his nose, his eyes watering again before he sneezed several times in quick succession. The sound of it went off in the quiet house like a bomb.
Dried-up mowgrove fruit sat in the fruit bowl. Utterly inedible by now. When his dad had told him his prognosis, he’d been eating one. The nauseous lump returned to his stomach and threatened to drag him under again. But he drew a deep breath, straightened his posture, and pulled his shoulders back. He needed to keep going. Eat, go and see Davey, and then make a choice from there. Maybe Davey had an idea on how he could find out who their mum had been. What they’d inherited from her genetics.
True to form, the cupboards had two of everything in them. Two tins of beans. Two tins of peaches. Two packets of dried noodles with squoch. Seb reached up and pulled both tins of peaches down, looking over his shoulders from where he could feel his dad’s eyes on him. “We’ve got no peaches left, Dad, you’ll need to order some more,” he said, his voice dying in the house’s stillness.
The use by date on the side of the tin showed they had a few years before they went bad, so Seb removed the lid, bent it so he could use it as a spoon, and scooped the fruit from the can.
The peaches were in syrup. The thick sugary hit lit up Seb’s taste buds and made his mouth water.
Each bite of the plump slices exploded in Seb’s mouth. Then he looked at his dad’s safe and the enjoyment of his experience dulled. It had always been there, in plain sight. It had been embedded in the wall for as long as they’d lived in the house. But his dad had never revealed its contents, and Seb had never dared ask. Not the most communicative of relationships.
And now, even if Seb had wanted to get inside the safe, he wouldn’t know where to start looking for the key.
Two tins of peaches down, and although Seb enjoyed the sweet aftertaste, his stomach hadn’t got the message that he’d eaten anything yet. A look back in the cupboard. The noodles would be edible, but no more tasty than they’d always been. Whenever he’d eaten them in the past, they left him with a foul aftertaste and the need to drink about seven gallons of water to combat the salty hit. They were a last resort kind of food. The sort of food that tasted great when he was a teenager.
Before Seb could take the beans from the cupboard, the groan of the front door’s hinges enquired through the house. Is anybody home?
The sound spiked Seb’s pulse and he froze for a moment, looking in the direction of the front door, but unable to see it from where he stood.
Because Seb had left his cloak and weapons in the front room, he balled his metal fists instead and shook his head to himself. Not another damn fight. A deep breath to slow his world down, he then ran across the wooden floor on tiptoes. He pressed his back against the wall next to the kitchen door and held his breath to listen.
Footsteps walked up the hallway towards him, the crunch of sand beneath them. The floorboards creaked, almost as if the old house let out a weary sigh at being trodden on.
The steps of the intruder were heavy against the floor. Whoever came at him at that moment sounded like they were large enough to cause him trouble. They also sounded like they didn’t expect anyone else to be there.
As the intruder drew closer
, Seb’s pulse kicked through him, adrenaline building up, ready to be spent. Fight or flight. He rarely ran.
One last deep breath to slip into slow motion, Seb then jumped from his hiding place, screamed as he kicked the kitchen door wide open, and rushed forward with his fists raised.
Chapter 28
“Logan?” Seb said as he came face to face with his dad’s old best friend. Good job he had the ability to slow down time. Had he not been viewing events through his slow motion lens, he would have swung first and asked questions later. Even with his abilities, he only just managed to hold back.
In the face of his dad’s friend’s kind and calm assessment, Seb said, “What are you doing here?”
At first, Logan shrugged. He opened his mouth several times as if to speak and then must have thought better of it. A few more seconds passed before he finally said, “I was just checking the place out.”
A snort of a laugh—a loud burst of noise in the quiet house—Seb then said, “What, you were just passing? Come on, I find that a little hard to believe. The desert is the kind of place you come to kill yourself, not somewhere you go for a scenic drive.”
“I’ve been checking on the place when I can. I think your dad would have wanted me to. I want to make sure it hasn’t been robbed or taken over by squatters. When I saw smoke …”
Seb looked through the living room’s door at the glowing fire. He shrugged. “That makes sense.”
As he looked Seb up and down, Logan said, “So what have you been up to, boy?”
Older and wiser than he’d been when he’d last seen Logan, Seb tensed at being called boy, but he let it slide. Very few people could call him that. In fact, with his dad gone, probably just one person could call him that and get away with it.
Chapter 29
The fire popped and crackled. Seb had put more logs on a few hours previously. The flames had now sunk into the glowing embers that had been there when Logan arrived. It served as the only measure of how long they’d talked for because there were no clocks in the room.
It made sense to tell Logan everything. Well, nearly everything. Seb had told him about the Shadow Order, about SA—he’d told him a lot about SA, his infatuation with her not missed by Logan. He’d spoken about the war with the Crimson Countess and how they’d lost Gurt. He’d also told him about Moses and what he’d probably face if he ever returned to the Shadow Order’s base. However, he hadn’t told Logan about the voice of his mother in his head, and he hadn’t told him about the prophecy. As kind as Logan was, believing such crazy nonsense would be a stretch too far even for his generous heart.
For the entire time Seb had spoken to him for, Logan sat back on the sofa next to Seb’s ratty, old cape and listened. He laughed when Seb told him what he’d paid for the garment.
“You’re doing the right thing, boy,” Logan said. “You’ve grown up so much since you left. Your dad would be proud.”
The statement sideswiped Seb, his grief springing on him without warning. It took a few seconds for him to gulp it back down and say, “But I fight a lot more.”
“You’re fighting for the right reasons. He’d see that.”
Seb stood up and walked over to the nearest window. While peering out into the dusty Danu desert, searching for signs of Moses’ bounty hunter, he said, “I need to go and see Davey.”
The slight smile both on Logan’s lips and in his eyes vanished. His tone turned sombre. “Are you sure?”
A deep inhale of the smokey air, the charred taste of it catching in his throat, Seb nodded. “I haven’t seen him for years. Can you get me visitation rights on the quiet? I’m sure I could do it officially, but that’ll leave a trail for Moses to find.”
For the next few seconds, the only sound came from the wind outside and the fire as it popped and fizzed.
Logan finally nodded. “Yep, I can do it. I shouldn’t, but I will. I don’t see much harm in it. You’re only visiting your brother, right?”
“Right.” Seb then said, “Oh, and Davey’s always said he doesn’t want visitors.”
The smile returned to Logan’s kind face. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll sort it out.”
Chapter 30
It only took a few hours for Logan to arrange Seb’s prison visit, and another hour for them to get there. The amount of service he’d given Danu’s police force had to have some advantages. The old frant had certainly been chewed up and spat back out again by the job. They owed him a favour or two.
The plastic chair had no padding and Seb wriggled as he sat on it, trying to find comfort where he wouldn’t be able to. The awkward twist emanated from his core, and no amount of shuffling would relieve it. He sat at a booth, wooden panels on either side of him and reinforced glass in front. A phone hung in a receiver, and a chair like the one he perched on sat empty on the other side of the glass. No doubt the ones on that side had been bolted to the floor. Who knew what the prisoners would do with a weapon like that?
Booths similar to the one Seb sat in ran away from him in both directions. Many of the beings on Seb’s side had phones to their ears and were talking to their loved ones opposite them. How many years had their relationship had a glass barrier between it? How many more did they have left?
A strong smell of bleach hung in the air. Typical government facility, they’d sterilised the personality out of the place. Unfortunately for Seb, the bleach hadn’t been applied thickly enough to mask the smell of what must have been a child’s full nappy. No children in there at that moment, the small beast must have left the stench as a parting gift to whoever came in after them. Or maybe an infantile screw you to the jailers.
Every time the door on the other side of the glass opened, Seb looked up. Six guards by it, two mandulus, two frants, and he didn’t know what the other two were. They all held semi-automatic blasters, wore deep frowns, and barely blinked as they watched the prisoners for signs of trouble. They looked like they’d be glad of an excuse to exert their will.
So far, the door had let through seven or eight prisoners. Each time Seb’s stomach had turned a backflip in anticipation. But none of them were Davey. It had been years since he’d seen him. Would he even recognise him now?
An occasional look over his shoulder at the door he’d entered through, Seb could still feel the attention of something. Maybe Moses’ bounty hunter had caught up with him. Hopefully they’d left Logan alone if they had. Not that he needed to worry about him. The old cop could look after himself. He’d opted to wait in the car outside. He had Buster’s satellite phone with him. There would have been no way the prison would have let the device in. Although harmless, the large case could have contained anything. Seb couldn’t afford to leave it unattended.
When the door leading to the prison clicked again, Seb saw the next person enter and the air left his lungs. He whispered, “Davey?”
Heavy bags beneath his sunken eyes, Davey fixed his dark stare on Seb and strode over to the booth.
Seb physically recoiled from his big brother’s approach.
The years in prison looked to have put decades on him. It had turned him into a jaded version of their father.
When Davey sat down, he stared at Seb with no change of expression and picked up the phone on his side.
Seb did the same and then pressed his palm against the cold glass separating them. He listened to his brother’s heavy breaths. A cheap phone, the quality left a lot to be desired. For a few seconds he could do no more than stare back at his brother. How had he turned into their father so quickly?
Finally, Seb said, “You look like shit, Davey.”
The stern expression broke and Davey smiled, his once boyish face now a mess of wrinkles. His teeth had turned brown and he wore a thick stubble. He looked like he’d been sleeping rough for all the time he’d been locked up. His voice rumbled through the receiver’s speaker. “Thanks, little bro. I love you too.”
The flash of humanity that ran through his brother’s withered face helped Seb r
elax a little and he shrugged. “You know me.”
“I used to.”
The words cut to Seb’s heart, his resentment spilling out. “You were the one who kept rejecting my requests to visit.”
A lazy roll of his eyes, Davey said, “I didn’t even get a request this time. More a summons.”
Seb didn’t reply to that. Logan probably wouldn’t get in trouble for arranging a visit, but best to keep it close to his chest anyway.
After a weary sigh, Davey said, “So Dad’s gone.”
It disarmed Seb. The prison, Davey’s resemblance to their father, the prophecy, his mother’s voice. Tears itched his eyes and the haggard version of a brother he once knew blurred.
“Come on, bro,” Davey said. “It’s okay. He had enough time to tell us how much of a disappointment we were. He’ll be happy in heaven, or hell, or wherever he’s ended up.”
“Probably being a pain in someone’s arse somewhere,” Seb said with a smile.
Davey smiled back. “Wherever he is, I bet he’s making sure they have two of everything in the cupboards!”
Seb and Davey laughed before the mood fell again. Davey looked straight into Seb’s eyes. “He used to visit, you know?”
“He did?”
“Yeah. Every week without fail.”
While shaking his head, Seb frowned at his brother. “Why didn’t he tell me?”
“I asked him not to. I didn’t want you coming here. If you knew he visited, you’d insist on doing the same. If you found out, I would have cut off his visits too, and I didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want me to do that.”
The Shadow Order - Books 1 - 8 + 120 Seconds (The complete series): A Space Opera Page 87
