by D. N. Leo
“Michael, I killed him in self-defense. That’s a totally different matter. But I provoked him first. I did that because I know I can protect myself. What did you do to provoke him, knowing you can’t protect yourself?”
“I told him I’d kill him sooner or later.”
When he saw the grimace filling Michael’s face, a chill crept into his blood. He mentally took a step back from the child. “How did you plan to do that?”
“I ain’t have no planning. That was before. But I know now. If I have to kill someone, it will be in self-defense.”
He crouched so his eyes were level with Michael’s. “Self-defense is not a trick to get away with murder. I don’t want to be the one to put that idea into your head. Perhaps, you’re too young to understand, but I need to …”
“I’m not too young. I’m eight years old. I know the most important thing a man gotta do, is to keep his promises. I keep my promises. If he didn’t know how to keep his promises, he didn’t deserve to live,” Michael raised his voice and pointed at the dead man’s body.
“Yes, Michael. Keeping promises is very important. But it’s not how you judge whether a person deserves to live. In fact, you don’t have the right to judge whether anyone deserves to live or die.”
“So who will have a say for Nick? He got killed and he has no say. It’s unfair. Nick just wanted to protect me. Just like what you did. You can defend yourself, but Nick can’t. Nick wanted him to get his hands off of me and … he killed Nick for that …he promised my mom he’d care for us… he never did… all he did was hurt me …” Michael’s lips trembled, his shoulders shook with the chill and the emotions, tears filled his eyes but he refused to let them fall.
“Who’s Nick?”
“My friend. My only friend. Nick’s the one who made the money, keep the food coming in. But he’s still not happy. He wanted more!” Michael pointed at his stepfather.
He could feel his blood boiling. “He killed a kid for not making him enough money?”
Tears started falling down Michael’s face. “He shouldn’t have bitten him … I can take a few slaps and punches. I can take it, I told Nick that, but he wouldn’t listen. He kept biting and barking until he turned around and broke his neck …”
“Barking? Is Nick a dog?”
Michael hitched up, almost choking with his tears. “… Yes… his mom died, so my mom brought him home when I was little. He grew up fast and when I didn’t have enough warm clothes last winter, he lied on top of me like a blanket.”
He reached out a hand to wipe the tears on Michael’s face, but the child backed up.
“He made Nick do all the tricks on the road to distract people so I can pick pockets … days after days, nights after nights … we were freezing, no food, no warm clothes, but we brought home the money. I promised Nick when we save enough money, I’ll run and I’ll take him with me. But we don’t have enough yet…”
Michael shivered. His jumper was obviously not enough to keep the chill off him. He reached out to Michael, but the child once more backed out. Tears still streamed down Michael’s face regardless how many times he wiped.
“We tried. But it’s winter. People won’t get out that much. We couldn’t get much money. He cut off our food and hit me. That was when Nick got angry. I told him not to… I can take it … but he kept biting until … until he grabbed his neck and twisted it broken. … Nick can’t defend himself … he provoked that man to get himself killed …” Michael gasped for air.
“He had no right to hit you. For that he would go to jail. But you can’t say you’d kill him because of what he did to Nick. I understand you’re upset and Nick is your friend …”
“Is this because Nick is a dog?”
He simply didn’t know how to respond without digging deeper into the wound.
“I promised Nick I’m going to get him out of here. I couldn’t keep my promise. Without Nick, I can’t pick any pockets. Then he beat me more… and more … just now … I told him I’m going to kill him. He got angry. He’s going to do what he did to Nick. He’s going to break my neck tonight. But I’m ready for it… I want to see my mom …”
Michael swayed, on the verge of passing out. He pulled at the kid and wrapped his arms around him. “When was the last time you ate something?”
“Can’t remember …”
He took off his thick coat and wrapped it around Michael. The coat was too big for the boy to walk in so he carried him in his arms. Michael’s head lulled against the crook of his neck and stayed there for a short moment.
He walked along the tunnel to the main road. When he nearly got to the road, Michael stirred and straightened his head. “Where are we going?”
“Hospital. I need to put some food into you, but we have blood all over us. If we go to a food stall, they’ll call the cops. So, the hospital seems to be appropriate. I want the doctor to check you out, too.”
“No, go to the cops. The police station is just around the corner. We have a dead body in the tunnel and he ain’t a dog.”
“I can take care of that after I take you to the hospital. I’ll call for a car now.”
“You mean a cab?”
“No, my company car,” he responded, and then remembered he had left his cell phone in the boardroom after the meeting. He must have caused his assistant a panic attack by now. “Damn it!” he cursed.
Michael laughed out loud.
“What’s funny?”
“You talk pretty, so I didn’t think you’d swear.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your words are pretty. I like them. Mom has pretty words, too. She’d been to school for many, many years. She said she wanted me to go to school, too. She never got around to do it. We moved around a lot. Then she ran into him…”
“Did he get violent with your mother?”
Michael said nothing and leaned into the crook of his neck again. “Okay. I won’t ask. Now, I don’t have my phone with me, so I have to walk to the main road to hail a taxi …”
“Police station, just around the corner,” Michael mumbled.
He kept walking.
“Cabs won’t go this way. You can only get them at the rank.”
“Would you mind telling me where the rank is? Or I’ll go to the main road and ask someone.”
“They have food at the police station.”
He kept walking.
“You’re shaking,” Michael said.
“Yes, I’m cold because you’re wearing my coat.”
“Okay, you’ll find cabs on the left, turn there and cross that little street.”
He followed Michael’s instructions and ended up at the police station. He pushed the door in. A blast of warm air inside greeted them with the bonus of a dozen pairs of eyes staring at the blood on their clothes.
“Put me down, I look like a scarecrow,” Michael said. He put Michael down on the floor and the coat pooled on the floor. Michael took the coat off and gave it back to him.
Seeing the blood, the officer at the front counter gave them immediate attention and got them into an interviewing room, separate from the main foyer.
“Officer, we have an incident to report, but the kid hasn’t eaten for days. Could you get him something?”
One officer went for the food and another remained in the interviewing room. The first officer soon returned with a sandwich and a bottle of water.
Before he could say anything, and before the officer took a seat with his notepad, Michael said, “I found him like that in the tunnel. Dead. Blood everywhere. He said he’d get some dinner, but I waited for a long time. So I went out and looked for him. I found him in the tunnel.” Then Michael pointed at him, “Then Mr. Pretty Talk found me and took me here. I was scared shitless.” Michael bit into the sandwich.
He arched an eyebrow and opened his mouth to say something, but Michael cut in again. “I can sort things out with the officer here. So, you can go now.”
“I beg your pardon?” he said.
“The kid said he’s fine and you can go. I know the guy Michael’s talking about. He’s a regular here,” the officer said.
“Who’s the regular? Michael or his stepfather?”
“Both. His stepfather, if he deserves the title, is the worst kind of junkie. Someone is going to do him in one day. Let’s hope today is the day.” The officer shook his head and made notes on his writing pad.
“But I found them, shouldn’t I give a statement?”
“Ciaran LeBlanc, is it? Sorry if I didn’t say your name right.” Michael put Ciaran’s wallet on the table. “Old habits die hard.”
Ciaran smiled. “Now that’s pretty talk.”
“Mom taught me,” Michael grinned. “Didn’t mean to pick your wallet. I just wanted to know your name.”
“You could have asked me.”
Michael took another bite of the sandwich and spoke with a mouth full, “Man, if ya told me, I wouldn’t get the spelling right.”
“It’s shouldn’t be a problem if you go to school.”
Michael arched an eyebrow. “School doesn’t feed me.”
“You’re saying if you didn’t have to worry about food, you would go to school?”
Michael contemplated, but said nothing in response.
“Can you promise me if you don’t have to worry about food, you will go to school? I know you’re a man of his word.”
Michael kept chowing down on the sandwich and shook his head. “I can do this myself. Don’t need ya no more.” Michael gave Ciaran a dismissive shrug.
Ciaran nodded. “All right then.”
He stood up and signaled the officer to take him out. When Ciaran was at the door of the interviewing room, Michael said, “I want more.”
Ciaran turned around and arched an eyebrow. “And what else would you like?”
The officer chuckled.
“I go to school, I’ll need pocket money. I need to buy clothes, books and all sort of …”
“All right, you will have an allowance. What else?”
Michael stood up and approached Ciaran. “I will give you your money back and I want it on paper. I want a man to write it down on paper.”
Ciaran frowned. “You want me to give you an allowance and have my lawyer put it in writing?”
The officer’s jaw dropped and he glared at Michael.
“No. I want your lawyer to write down that I owe you the money and I will pay you back when I grow up. I want to have that paper.”
Ciaran nodded. “I’ll send my lawyer tomorrow to draw up the paperwork.” He glanced at the door of the police station and saw his company car had arrived. Ciaran nodded toward the officer at the counter, thanking him for making the arrangement. Then he turned back to Michael. “I have to go now.”
Michael nodded.
“If you want to keep in touch, all you have to do is to ask me. You don’t have to hang onto a piece of paper.”
“Are you going home now?”
Ciaran nodded. “Yes. I am flying to London tonight.”
“When will you be back here?”
“I am not sure. I’ll have to check my schedule.”
Michael smiled. “See! I need that paper.”
Ciaran laughed. “You’re a very smart boy. You’ll do well at school. Learn everything you can, make a lot of money and pay me back your loan.”
“I promise.” Michael said solemnly, his eyes gleamed with tears. Ciaran opened his arms. Michael dove in and hugged him.
Ciaran left for the car. Before Ciaran got in, he heard Michael call out. He turned and saw Michael standing at the door of the police station with his palm open, revealing a pocket watch. Michael approached. Ciaran crouched to avoid having his six foot three height towering over Michael.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted a souvenir. Couldn’t take this one. It’s your father’s watch.” He gave it back to Ciaran.
Ciaran took the watch, rubbing his thumb on the engraved text, “The love of my life - Conan LeBlanc.” He smiled. “I actually stole this from my father.”
Michael eyes widened. “You steal?”
Ciaran nodded and winked at Michael.
“Did your father find out?”
Ciaran shook his head.
“You’re so cool!”
Ciaran laughed.
“Will you visit me when you come back to New York?”
“Of course, I promise. You can keep this watch if you like, as proof I will be coming back for it.”
Michael shook his head. “I have your word and the paper. That’s enough. You need that watch more than me.”
“What do you mean?”
“In the tunnel, when I said I was ready for him to break my neck, I meant it. Nick was the only thing I had left from my mom and he took Nick from me. When you walked into the tunnel, I saw the light. Mom always said the light would come for me one day, and everything would get better. You brought me the light. I haven’t said thank you for that.”
“You’re welcome.” Ciaran smiled and slid the watch back into his pocket.
“Don’t let anyone take the watch from you.”
“I won’t, I promise. Now get back inside, you’re shivering.”
Michael rushed in and hugged Ciaran tightly.
“One more thing.” Michael grinned.
“What?”
“Merry Christmas!”
Ciaran had just now realized that Christmas was coming in a few days. It had never meant anything to him, until now. He looked at Michael and said the words he had never said in his life, “Merry Christmas to you, too.”
Michael smiled again, then, turned on his heel, and scurried inside the building.
Ciaran stepped into the world of his familiars; inside his long black limousine. As the car left the police station behind, Ciaran saw Michael peeking from inside the door of the police station. He rubbed his thumb on the pocket watch his mother had given his father.
If he hadn’t stolen the pocket watch off his father, he wouldn’t have any personal item from him. The business empire and legacy his father left behind wasn’t for him, but for the family. Everything his father had done was to make him a better man and to make the most out of his potential.
But he occasionally wanted to be just a kid.
Thirty years ago, he was born on this day. He thought his childhood was stolen. He thought he was lost. Today, he saved the life of a child and, at the same time, had saved a part of his soul.
In return, the child had given him the meaning of Christmas.
For all of that, he was grateful.
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Copyright
FIRE SUMMONER
BONES AND ASHES TRILOGY
BOOK 1
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Copyright © 2018 by D.N. Leo, all rights reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual business or persons is purely coincidental.
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bsp; Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent from the author is strictly prohibited.
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