The Syndicate

by Shelena Shorts

  If he wasn’t my brother, there would be no love lost between us. But, I keep that to myself, because really, if it ever came down to it, he’d have my back and I’d have his, without a doubt.

  I apologize for being thirty seconds late, and then find my seat. The Circle is laid out so that the three Elders—Henri, Stefan, and Valentin—are seated on a pulpit-like structure, facing us. Their chairs are two hundred years old, handcrafted of mahogany and upholstered in green velvet.

  Henri, of course, sits in the middle, because he is the numărul unu. Three years ago my father sat there, but I shake the memory, because things are just the way they are now. My father isn’t here, and I’m not ready, willing, or qualified to be in charge, so I try to be grateful for the effective back-up plan.

  My eyes shift to the row of chairs in front of me. The Readers are situated in a semicircle, making a half circle facing the Elders. The eight Guards, including me, are in a larger one behind the Readers.

  I immediately seek out Dorina and Ramona, who are both here, in the flesh, despite their Houdini arrival. I’m tempted to tap them on the shoulder and ask what the hell is going on and why one of them is sneaking around the halls at night.

  However, Guards are only supposed to listen and wait for Henri to begin, so I check out my other brothers. We all maintain a room in the house, but the older ones—Alexandru, Nicolae, Ovidui, and Simon—have primary homes nearby. Elders Stefan and Valentin do as well. None of them are married, and it provides more freedom to date and such. Even Stefan and Valentin, who are in their sixties, are no strangers to attractive women. Both of them have been married more than once.

  Daniel (who goes by Dani), myself, Andre, and Petric still live here full-time. We’re all under twenty-one, and none of us concentrate on how much our clothes cost or how many girls we can pick up. We just want to play football or basketball and fight. I guess that’s why we’re wearing tennis shoes and our older brothers are wearing Ferragamos.

  I smile slightly and shake my head, hoping to never turn into them, just as Henri’s voice reminds me that we have serious business to attend to.

  “Good evening,” he says. “It gives me great pleasure to see my family here, looking so beautiful, wise, and ready for the challenges that face our world. This year, our chapter alone has already eliminated thirty-six Hybrids, and our government could not be more grateful.

  “As I look out at our gifted Readers, I see concern in some of your eyes, but hear me this: Have no fear. The Hybrids that you see will be eliminated swiftly, and we will continue to protect the people and to be victorious.

  “Now, I ask you to close your eyes and remember your visions. Remember what you have seen. Concentrate on those images.”

  Henri stands and hands black pens to Valentin and stacks of mini parchment paper to Stefan. The three make their way down from the platform.

  “Now,” Henri continues, “We will give each of you your tools and bear witness as the images God has shown you come forth onto the paper. Share with us what you see. Share with us what you know. Share with us what needs to be done.”

  Each of the Readers takes their pen and paper and begins to write. Adela, my godmother, writes assertively as always and is finished first. It is hard for me to see, but it looks like she wrote on three papers. That means three names.

  Camelia and Joana write slowly, with their eyes closed, as if struggling to see the visions. When they are done, it looks like they only have two sheets each. That’s seven total names so far, which causes me to sit up further.

  My eyes lock next on Ramona, who is now writing rather quickly and purposefully. Four sheets when she’s done. Lastly is Dorina, who is sitting with her eyes closed. It’s hard to see her lap from my angle, but it looks as though she has a few sheets completed already, but something is holding her up. A vision she perhaps can’t make out or remember. We all wait. Finally she pries open her eyes and sighs deeply. For the first time, I see her hand shaking as she writes. Henri pats her on the shoulder and thanks her when she’s done. Five sheets.

  Counting all, there are sixteen sheets. That means sixteen Hybrids have been located. I’m stunned. That is by far the most in one month. No wonder Ramona looks rattled. I’m feeling a little uneasy myself. Killing a Hybrid is no walk in the park, and sixteen divided by eight is simple. I take a deep breath, realizing that, for the first time, I will have to kill two Hybrids in one rotation. Another thing my father never got a chance to prepare me for.

  Chapter 2

  THE FIRST ASSIGNMENT

  Once Henri collects all the papers, he lays them on the table, which rests against the back wall. We watch as they huddle below the backdrop of our Syndicate symbol: a large wrought-iron wall-hanging resembling a circular maze. It’s the symbol that represents our lives. It’s everywhere: the wall, the furnishings throughout the house. We each have it tattooed on one of our biceps as a constant reminder of who we are.

  It takes only a few minutes for Henri, Stefan, and Valentin to determine that there are no duplicate names on the sheets. Then, Henri transfers each name into our record book for accountability purposes, and then orders the Guards to stand. We remain still until he calls us up one by one to receive our assignments.

  As the most recent member of the Circle, I’m last. When it’s my turn, I just put the small pieces of paper in my pocket. It doesn’t really matter who they are. It’s a job, and I’ll treat it that way as soon as I leave the circle, but for now I wait.

  Once I’m back in my seat, Henri goes through the spiel about having faith in our abilities and knowing we will all succeed. I look around at my brothers. Andre and Petric are each bouncing their knees in anticipation, like pit bulls waiting to get out of their pen. They love to take out a Hybrid. They’re good attackers, but that’s what makes them loose cannons.

  The government expects us to keep what we do private. The Hybrids have been walking this earth for a couple hundred years now, but only recently have they resurfaced in great numbers. The Syndicate is no secret to the government, but, to the public, we are non-existent. And so are the Hybrids, for now. We kill for them, they pay us, and no one has to know that Hybrids are walking around threatening civilization. All is kosher except for the fact that Andre and Dani are messy. They’ve drawn attention to themselves during kills, and the government has had to cover it up.

  I shift my gaze to Petric, who’s leaning back in his seat. He smiles when we make eye contact. It’s a devious smile. That’s his weakness. He’s so confident that he barely does his homework on his assignments. It’s a dangerous way to think, but he says it’s the only way he finds fun in what we do.

  The veterans are in their seats, with looks of boredom. Alexandru is messing with his manicure, and the others are either playing with their suit buttons or picking lint from their sleeves. They’ve heard this pep talk dozens of times, and there’s no mistaking…we all want one thing: to walk out of these doors so we can do what we’re born to do.

  It’s seven o’clock when we adjourn. We’re permitted a few respectful hugs with the Readers and our Brothers, and then we’re whisked off to a dinner prepared by our house chefs. Elders, Readers, Shadows, Guards, and Scouts. It’s the one time a month that we’re all in one room together, and we feast and feast. And feast some more. It’s like Thanksgiving times ten.

  Our dining room table fits all of us comfortably, and there’s enough food to feed an army. Then again, I guess that’s exactly what we are. Henri and Stefan take charge of the conversation as always—this time making jokes about the government. It causes me to reflect on something my father taught me: don’t bite the hand that feeds you. Stick up for yourself, but have respect and be grateful for what is given to you. Henri and Stefan seem to have missed that life lesson.

  They take it upon themselves to protect society because that’s what’s in their blood. But they’re arrogant leaders. They have no problem demanding outrageous amounts of compensation from the government, because, with
out us, this world would be in chaos.

  Tonight their stories consist of how worried the president looked at their last meeting, how he was nearly begging for us to get rid of every Hybrid in the world. That’s our goal, but it doesn’t work like that. Our families have been after them for years, and, just when we think they’re extinct, they reappear decades later, stronger, faster, and more adapted into society.

  They’ve almost reached the point where you can’t differentiate them from an uninfected human. In fact, the masses couldn’t pick a Hybrid out of a lineup if their lives depended on it. The only reason we’re able to is because of our training.

  There are subtle things, like the yellow hue in the whites of the eyes. It resembles jaundice, but more unnatural. Same thing with the fingernails. An unhealthy yellowing to them, and then the skin is extra dry. Aside from that, a Hybrid’s spine is wider than usual at the neck, but that’s not easily noticeable when clothed.

  That’s what makes this generation of Hybrids so unsettling. Listening to Henri and Stefan joke confidently about the times really bothers me. Anxious to be dismissed, I head straight to my room.

  Finally alone, I remove the papers from my pocket and unfold the thin sheets: William Simons Stafford III (VA) and Riley Lee Bennett (MD). I barely finish reading the names and locations when my sister bursts into the room.

  “Ugh, those dinners are getting so annoying. How do all those egos fit in one room?”

  I let out a breath that’s almost a laugh. “I know. It didn’t used to be like that.”

  “How do you know? You’ve only been in the Circle for five months.”

  My head tilts. “Come on, Rosie. You know I used to sneak around these halls when Dad was alive, always listening in on what I could. I looked up to the Circle. They stood for something.”

  “They still do,” she says.

  “Yeah, but I keep thinking it’s not about the people first. It’s about the glory now.”

  She makes her way over to my bed and sits. “You might be right.” Looking at my hands, she sees the papers. “So, what did we get?”

  I show her the names. “William and Riley. So an older guy and a younger guy.”

  “What makes you say that?” I ask.

  “Well, William is an older person’s name and Riley is definitely a cool name. It’s a shame. I bet he’s cute too.”

  “What?”

  “I’m just saying. He probably was, before he was infected.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Her shoulders sink. “I know.”

  Rosie still has difficulty separating our assignments from the people they used to be, but we have to. We can’t worry about the person who was lost. They’re no longer human, no longer safe for society. They have to go.

  She hands me back the papers. “Well. It’s still interesting. I bet I’m right, though.”

  “Doubt it,” I say, giving her a nudge.

  “Whatever. I’m always right. Anyway. I’ll find out. Which one do you want me to scout first?”

  I can see that she’s bored and anxious to start her next challenge. She’s essentially my eyes and ears. The Readers give us a name and rough location, and we have to find them. I got lucky this time. Both of my assignments are nearby, so hopefully, not a lot of traveling. Rosie will find out exactly where they are and what they do. She’ll have their routine down to a science, and then I’ll decide exactly when and where to eliminate them. I look at the names.

  “Find William first.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I knew you were going to say that. Fine. Old boring guy it is.”

  I give her a light shove off my bed and she leaves with her shoulders low, but I know she’ll pick up her step once out of my room. She loves her job.

  There’s nothing like a nosy girl getting the green light to dig into someone’s business. She’ll probably have all the info I need on William Stafford III before the week is up. Then, I’ll get rid of him and move on to our next target.

  Four days go by before Rosie has what I need. She comes in my room just as I’m about to fall asleep.

  “Okay,” she says. “This William guy is a tough one.”

  I almost want to ask her to come back in the morning, but knowing she’s put in a lot of hours, I sit up and turn on the small table lamp.

  “What’s up?” I ask, my eyes still adjusting to the light.

  “Well, he’s a freakin’ senator.”

  My eyes widen. “You’re pulling my leg.” These Hybrids are stopping at nothing. Turning such a public figure is risky.

  “No I’m not. Trust me. William Stafford III lives in Northern Virginia with his wife and two teenage sons, and he travels to D.C. every morning on the Metro.” I make a face, and she says, “Yeah, I know.” And then she continues, “He eats a BLT sandwich and a diet coke everyday—”

  I put my hand up to stop her. I’ll get the details later. First I need to take in the major one.

  “A senator, you say?”

  “Yes.”

  “How the hell are we going to make him disappear without drawing too much attention to it?”

  “No clue,” she says. “That’s your job.”

  I ignore the convenient way she pulls herself out of the challenge. “You’re sure this is our target?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. And it wasn’t easy. I ended up having to sit right behind him on the subway to try to get a glimpse of his neck for confirmation. He’s definitely one.”

  I give her a hug for her effort, and that’s rare for me. I’m not an affectionate person, but she deserves more than one of Henri’s lame pats on the back.

  “Thanks,” I tell her.

  She leans into me. “Sure.”

  “We’ll talk more about Mr. Senator tomorrow, and I’ll map out my plan.”

  She nods and then gives me a look of worry. Almost like it’s just hit her that all this work she’s done to find William will end with me going up against a high-profile Hybrid.

  “What? Little sis. You don’t think I can handle an old guy?”

  She laughs. “No. Well, yes, I know you can handle him. I’m just not sure when you’ll get a chance. He always has people around him. There’s barely a window…”

  “Okay stop. I’m tired and just want to sleep and figure this out tomorrow. You can tell me what you know then. After breakfast.”

  “You’re sick. How can you think about food and a Hybrid at the same time?”

  I shove her head, but she elbows me in my ribs and jumps up before I can counter.

  ***

  The following morning, I’m eating breakfast alone when Henri enters. It’s early, so I know it will just be the two of us for a while, because my brothers won’t wake until at least eleven.

  He sits with his coffee and a muffin, which he eats with a fork and knife.

  “Good morning, Henri.”

  “Yes. It is.” He looks at me and begins stirring in the cream and sugar. “Any progress on your Hybrids?”

  I finish chewing. It’s unusual for him to want a progress report. “Yes,” I answer, trying not to frown.

  “Good. Because reports of completion are already coming in.”

  I get the feeling he’s challenging me. The Guards don’t talk amongst themselves about their assignments, so I never know who my brothers have or when they’ve completed their tasks. For some reason, Henri feels the need to rush me. And I don’t like it.

  “That’s good news,” I respond with a nod.

  “Yes,” he answers dryly, taking a sip of his coffee.

  I make finishing my breakfast a priority, although Henri doesn’t seem to have the same plan. He pulls out a newspaper, but, instead of reading, he keeps talking to me.

  “You’re close, I assume?”

  I nod.

  “Good.”

  I’m finally done with my eggs and toast, so I stand to put my plate in the kitchen.

  “Remember what I told you,” he says.

  We make eye contact, an
d I can’t help feeling like he wants to say something else. But I nod again and walk away.

  Rosie meets me in my room and we talk about William. She tells me everything, from what time he wakes up, to what Metro line he takes, to when he gets home, to when he takes out his garbage. I can’t kill him on the Metro, and, since his wife takes him to and from the station every day, I can’t get him in his car. I’m certainly not going to kill him at the Capitol. And according to Rosie, he’s a straight-up family man. Never goes out without his wife or one of his kids. He must be newly turned, I think. No signs of violent, erratic behavior yet. So how do I kill a family man with a ticking time bomb inside him?

  Contemplating, I focus on her last detail.

  “It’s trash night, you say?”

  Her eyes get wide. “Yes.”

  “Well then. William, our Hybrid, is going out with his own trash tonight.”

  Rosie smiles and nods in approval.

  I get dressed right after dinner, choosing my black fatigues for comfort and camouflage after dark. Next, I decide on my black Timberland boots, more for traction than speed. William will need to be taken down at close range, so I also head to our weapon room.

  Hidden behind a floor-to-ceiling wall painting of a Romanian mountain range is the entryway. Through it is a narrow hallway that leads to our underground training room and weapons chamber. I choose knives, and at the last minute decide on a handgun in case he gets away, which I don’t anticipate.

  He lives in a cul-de-sac along with three other homes. His house sits farthest from the road, and his driveway is long, which gives me a lot of leeway. At just after dark, I’m waiting in the tree line that borders William’s property. The only thing I’m hoping is that other neighbors don’t take out the trash at the same time as he does. Other than that, this should be an easy kill and removal.