“We all know how Tony got the juice,” Aubrey pipes, giggling as she elbows Gina in the side.
“Shh,” Dr. Godfrey insists. “But the pattern of his blood. The way it shifts and navigates is identical to Vigilares.” He looks up from the magnifying lens as if he’s discovered the next best thing to E=mc². Shooing the women from the room, he urges Max to get dressed. “Come. Come,” he hustles Max to the training station. “Somebody get me some fire. Something that burns!” He shuffles into the main room of the basement his hands astir, interrupting Tony and Marks’ sparring match. “Fire. I need fire,” he continues, motioning Max to the center of the room.
“The basement isn’t exactly the best place for fire,” Emily spouts wondering if he’s lost his mind.
“To the recovery room,” Dr. Godfrey urges, remembering it has a fireplace.
“Um...that might be a problem,” Tony interrupts, knowing the only thing that room is currently suited for is yellow caution tape and a construction crew.
Emily glares at Gina.
“What? What did you do?” Aubrey prods Gina, her eyes excited and yearning for the details.
Gina quiets her with a subtle shake of her head. “There’s a hibachi on the patio. Will that work?” she attempts to provide an alternative.
“If you have water and some tinder, we can make fire,” Max offers.
“What?” Tony and Marks ask in unison, their curiosity piqued.
“Ah!” Dr. Godfrey jumps with the thought, his uncoordinated heels actually clicking in the air like the Planter’s Peanuts mascot. He points to a steel commercial rinsing basin beside the training station, conveniently located for scrubbing potential sparring wounds. Digging into the pocket of his trousers, he pulls together a wad of lint, filling his other hand with a fistful of pencils from his pocket protector.
“Don’t you need the sun’s rays...or something like that?” Marks’ arms thrust out to his sides looking around at the dark, dim basement.
“Something like that,” Dr. Godfrey affirms. A grin spread across his round face, he beckons Aubrey. “Well,” he prompts Max waiting hopefully to see what he can do.
Max smiles, rubbing his hands together, thrilled at the opportunity to show off. He bends down to eye level with the spigot. Turning the water on, the others with the exception of Emily, watch bewildered as he turns liquid to ice in the form of a sizable magnifying glass settling in the bottom of the steel basin. Dr. Godfrey grabs up the iced lens, holding it at a strategic angle to his pile of pencils topped with trouser lint. Prodding Aubrey he coaches, “Just skim over it, my dear.”
Aubrey does as instructed, pulling from Gina’s gaze, the ray just enough to set the tinder behind the ice aflame.
“Good job.” Marks places his hand affirmatively in the small of her back.
Max’s impatient eyes hone in on the reddish-orange glow, his steel blue gaze returning fire to ice. Dr. Godfrey snaps his fingers. Gina and Aubrey look to Emily for an explanation.
“That was some cool shit,” Tony plays on Max’s icy maneuver, offering up his hand for a high-five. Max connects enthusiastically.
“Can you show me how to do that?” Marks gives him a congratulatory slap on the back.
Both Tony and Marks check their appendages, wondering if the cold sensation on their tingling palms was only their imaginations.
“I’ve got more tricks,” Max offers.
Tony and Marks hurry him off to the training station completely intrigued. Emily joins them on the sidelines, her stance suspicious and protective. Aubrey, certainly not one to be left out of the action, takes her place alongside Emily.
“Hell Hound meet your match,” Dr. Godfrey chimes proudly, he and Gina staying put at the water basin, watching from an unobtrusive vantage point.
“Emerald green. Blazing red. Now steel blue,” Gina says, shaking her head. “This thing’s grown so far out of hand.”
“Blue,” Dr. Godfrey begins, “the color of confidence. Calm, cool, strong and steadfast.” He quizzes Gina, “Why do you think policemen wear blue?”
Gina shrugs. “Tradition.”
Dr. Godfrey points his index finger into the air. “True,” he agrees. “It’s the same premise as the blue power suit in business. It conveys a sense of importance, power, protection...loyalty. All without being sinister. Blue is the color of truthfulness, and freedom. That’s why it’s so prevalent on the face of flags for countries all over the world. In Egyptian Mythology, blue is a symbol of life and rebirth...new beginnings. Hence, the water and the sky.”
Gina watches Max showing off a multitude of skills to Tony and Marks. Their elated faces impressed, joining in where they can assisting him. “We don’t even know who he is or where he came from. And this kid is our new beginning?”
“Ms. Truly,” he refers to Emily, “is as suspicious as they come. You think she would bring someone upon us who wasn’t pure of intent?”
“Ms. Truly is smitten. She’s not necessarily at the top of her discriminatory game.”
“I must admit I’ve never seen her take quite a shine.” Dr. Godfrey chuckles at the notion. “I have a good feeling about this one, Vigilare.”
“Gina,” she corrects agitated.
He smiles at her, his train of thought returning to Max. “Some cultures believe blue brings peace, keeping the bad spirits away,” Dr. Godfrey indicates Hell Hound.
“Trust me, it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than the color blue to tame that monster.”
“Uncanny...his resemblance to your late husband.” Dr. Godfrey thinks aloud, causing Gina to make the connection with his familiarity. “And his hair follicle. He shares your same DNA, Vigilare.” He looks up at her skeptically from over the tops of his bifocals.
Gina squints her eyes at him. “My son would celebrate his eleventh birthday next month. Think you’re off by a few years.”
Tink! Tink! Tink! The sound ricochets from the training area.
Max howls triumphantly, thrusting his head back, his torso fully arched, his arms flared at his sides. “That was awesome!” he congratulates Tony.
“What the hell was that? How’d you do that?” Marks briskly frisks Tony’s chest.
“Did you see that?” Max hurries to Emily pulling her toward Tony for further inspection. “Come on,” he urges Aubrey to follow. The four of them gather round in the center of the sparring mat.
“I don’t know what that was,” Tony stammers, lifting up his shirt, disappointed he only bares his flesh underneath.
“I know, right? I swear it sounded like hail hitting a steel roof,” Marks defends.
“Let’s try it again,” Max eggs him on, assuming a stance a few feet in front of Tony. “You watch,” he excitedly begs of Emily and Aubrey. They cannot deny him, their spirits escalating off his contagious energy, even Emily. He eyeballs Marks who is already in position halfway between the two, his hands resting over squatting knees like an umpire on a baseball field.
“Let him have it,” Marks confirms his participation.
Gina and Dr. Godfrey watch from the water basin, curious but perplexed as to what they may be looking for.
Max releases several ice balls, spiraling in Tony’s direction. “Umph,” Tony groans as they pellet off his chest. “Keep ’em coming,” he orders Max, bobbing his head from side to side, shaking out his arms, slightly nervous now that he is on the spot. Max continues to wing the biting cold spheres at Tony, internally rooting him on. Tink! Tink! Tink! the sound resonates as ball after ball is deflected before it reaches Tony’s chest, ricocheting here and there.
“Can you direct them?” Max shouts, continuing to hurl the flying objects at Tony.
Tony bears down twisting his torso in Marks’ direction, the ice balls following the trajectory of his body. Marks ducks and dives,
reminiscent of his high school gym class when dodgeball was in session.
“Go long!” Tony calls to Max who takes off for the far end of the basement, wailing a solitary ice ball. Tony zones in on it, his ears superbly keen—whoosh, whoosh, whoosh goes the sound. Tony’s hazel eyes now reflect Max’s, steel blue. The spherical icy mass bounces off the invisible barrier encompassing Tony’s chest. It flies through the air surrounded by a steel blue glow until it settles into the hands of Maxim Kiesel.
Max slams the ice ball down onto the concrete. “Touchdown!” he raves as he does a celebratory dance.
“Fascinating,” Dr. Godfrey whispers, a witness to the feat.
Tony searches the room, his eyes settling on his mark—Gina. He grins at her big as Broadway. She reciprocates, shaking her head.
“A shield. How fitting for the charming detective.” Dr. Godfrey chuckles.
“Do it again!” Aubrey cheers, her own agenda surfacing.
Max hurls another ice ball at Tony who accurately deflects it downfield. Aubrey claims the ball mid-air with her eyes, the steel blue glow quickly turning to emerald green. “Go long,” she commands Emily, elbowing her in the ribs. Emily elbows her back, rolling her eyes and refusing to take part in the game, her feet firmly planted on the sideline.
“I got it!” Marks shouts, running toward the opposite end of the basement from Max. “Down here, Aubrey.”
“Oh, no ya don’t,” Tony mumbles running after Marks, his feet tangling one around the other with no reasonable explanation, catapulting him into a tumble, leaving Marks wide open.
Aubrey darts her eyes in Marks’ direction, the ice ball following. He jumps, catching it. Happy to relieve his hand of the biting mass, he celebrates much the same as Max, the ball shattering to pieces on the floor.
“Well played.” Dr. Godfrey laughs heartily, his hands clapping profusely.
Max bumrushes Emily, hoisting her up and spinning her around. “You tripped him, didn’t ya?” He chuckles knowingly.
“Maybe.” She laughs satisfied with herself.
Marks and Aubrey share a chest-bump and a butt-slap in celebration of their teamwork. Tony picks himself up off the floor inspecting his clumsy feet, cursing them for failing him.
The iron wall separating them from the garage gives way. In walks William Truly and Dr. Ryan. Emily forcefully taps Max’s shoulders, beckoning him to return her feet to the floor. The motley crew grows quiet with their presence.
“Are we having a party?” Dr. Ryan asks offended, as if she did not receive an invitation.
Dr. Godfrey welcomes her, rolling his hands one over the other, his elation filling every cell of his body. “Seems we have another ally.” He motions to Max hovering contentedly over Emily.
“It can’t be,” Dr. Ryan utters, her voice dropping.
“Why not?” Gina inquires suspicious of her tone.
Dr. Ryan recovers. “How is this possible?” Her discontent now aimed at Dr. Godfrey. “Mr. Truly and I hired you. We pay you very well for your expertise. Our instructions were quite clear, Doctor.” She arches her eyebrow, peering down at him. “Three Vigilares.” She eyes Gina, Emily and Aubrey. “Not one. Not two. Certainly not five.”
“That’s what you get when you start playing God.” Gina glances at her, sticking up for Dr. Godfrey.
“Might I remind you, the great detective transformed on your watch,” she pokes at Gina. “I expect you will refrain from such extracurriculars in the future.”
“Apparently you haven’t seen the recovery room,” Gina huffs, eyeing Dr. Ryan defiantly. “And number five.” She nods in Max’s direction, a provoking smirk surfacing. “Maybe you should question your daughter’s extracurriculars. She dragged him in.” Gina walks away joining her cohorts in the middle of the training area.
Dr. Ryan tracks her with a menacing glance. She looks disapprovingly at Emily, who stands firm next to Max, her body language daringly malignant. “You better fix this,” she commands Dr. Godfrey before exiting the basement, headed for higher ground.
CHAPTER 16
That evening at the dinner table, William Truly sits at the head opposite Dr. Godfrey at the end. Dr. Ryan takes her seat beside William Truly. Emily quickly sits down beside her, asking Gina with her eyes to take the seat across from Dr. Ryan, as a fail-safe to keep her attention from Max. He sits across from Emily, beside Gina, safely nestled between her and Tony—his newfound mentor. Marks pulls out the chair beside Emily, tucking it chivalrously underneath Aubrey as he sits beside her and Dr. Godfrey. Max, starving from the rigors of examination and training, picks up his fork intending to stab it into a succulent slice of roast beef.
“Ahem,” Emily clears her throat beckoning him with her eyes. Tony helps her out by delivering a swift jab to Max’s side. Max retreats, his cool face blushing, quickly returning his fork to the side of his plate. Dr. Ryan huffs agitatedly, adjusting her linen napkin in her lap. Emily bows her head, along with the others, her smiling eyes finding Max’s. She winks. He grins apologetically, tipping his chin to his chest.
“Lord. Thank you for this food. This food to our bodies and our bodies to thy service. Amen,” William Truly recites a short blessing.
“And, thank you for our new friends,” Dr. Godfrey adds, raising his glass, a pleased smile gracing his kind, round face. Everyone except Dr. Ryan reciprocates taking a drink from their wine goblets. Max follows Tony’s lead, waiting until the ladies at the table have filled their plates before digging in.
“Mr. Kiesel,” Dr. Ryan addresses Max. “Where did you say you’re from?”
“He didn’t, Mother,” Emily answers.
“New Orleans,” Max quickly interjects, flashing his steel blues at her, biting into a hunk of roast beef skewered on his fork.
“I’d wager it’s safe to assume by the way you fail to use both utensils that you were reared in the bayou.” She extends a purposeful example, cutting a small chunk from her roast beef with her knife then gently spearing it with her fork before delicately delivering it to her mouth.
“I figure it all goes to the same place regardless how it gets there.” Max smiles at her and takes another indulgent bite of the tender meat, now pridefully refusing to engage his knife, elbows defiantly resting on the table. Emily’s eyes sparkle with his quick return; the way to her heart is most definitely a brazen path.
“How far along are you in the testing process?” William Truly’s deep voice probes Dr. Godfrey.
“With a little more, I should know what we’re fully capable of.”
“I guess the appropriate question would be, how much longer should we plan on accommodating our guests?” William Truly asks bluntly, well aware of his wife’s discontent with their presence.
“What we’re capable of?” Dr. Ryan questions. “Since when did we include the great detective and his sidekicks?”
“The great detective and his sidekicks can leave, pronto.” Tony lets his fork tumble off his plate, pushing his chair back.
“No,” Gina, Emily and Aubrey speak in unison.
Gina coaxes Tony back down into his seat, her hand gently encircling his forearm. “Well, that’s three.” She turns her attention to Dr. Godfrey. “What says you?”
He nervously diverts his eyes from Dr. Ryan’s pressing glance. “I feel it’s conducive to a better understanding thereby aiding in our preparation against the Hell Hound...if the great detective and his cohorts stay.”
“Even if they are a danger to our very system?” Dr. Ryan argues.
“With all due respect,” Dr. Godfrey begins, “I cannot take credit for the slogan, however, I do agree it is wiser to keep one’s friends close and one’s enemies closer.”
“Enemies?” Tony scoffs.
“How do we know you’re not a danger to the system?” Max asks Dr. Ryan. “It’s
always the suspicious ones that have the most to hide.”
“Are you going to let that bayou brat sit at my dinner table and insult me?” Dr. Ryan questions the calm William Truly.
“Now, Tricia,” he speaks her moniker softly. “You bit first. And I agree with Dr. Godfrey. What kind of sense would it make to turn them loose with no idea as to how it may affect us down the line?”
“Turn them loose?” Tony shrugs his shoulders sharing an offended look with Max. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re here by choice.”
Dr. Ryan slaps her hand down on the table. “This is not Vanguard PD, Detective. You do not run the show here. Frankly, you are not even needed for this assignment.”
“Mother,” Emily scolds, her expression pleading with her father to effectively manage his wife.
Aubrey refuses to be part of such bickering. She and Marks carry on a civilized conversation at the other end of the table. Marks accommodates her while keeping one eye on Tony in case his assistance should be warranted.
Tony wipes his mouth briskly with his napkin, leveling his field of vision. “Tell me, Dr. Ryan, what is it exactly you bring to the table?” he pokes at her lack of Vigilare pedigree. “Can you turn fire to ice? See souls? Manipulate others through their mind or body? Do your eyes sparkle emerald green, steel blue, violent red?”
“Ingenuity, Detective. That’s what I bring to the table. You might be careful,” Dr. Ryan warns. “You ever hear mothers tell their children, ‘I brought you into this world and I can take you out?’” She looks to Dr. Godfrey. “He works for me. The same as he created the Vigilare bloodline upon my ingenuity, it can be extinguished.”
“How?” Gina’s ears perk.
“Are you still discontent with your position, Ms. DeLuca?” Dr. Ryan snaps.
Her voice calm yet demanding, Emily speaks, “We have a fire-breathing psychopath with Vigilare powers running amuk and this is the best we can do? Fight amongst ourselves? Attack each other over who’s qualified to be here?” She pushes her plate away having lost her appetite.
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