by Kyle Prue
Neil didn’t know what to say. “You have me,” he tried lamely. “You can tell me your darkest secrets, if you want to.” He pulled her into an awkward, one-armed hug. “I know I can’t replace either one of them for you. But I can try, if you’ll let me.”
Jennifer sniffled. “Have you ever betrayed anyone?” she asked quietly.
Neil hadn’t, and he told her so.
“When I was young, maybe Rhys’s age, I had this friend,” she said, wiping her eyes and sitting up. “Edward. I met him at the Opera House. He came out of his box, and Victoria and I went to talk to him. This was back when Victoria was too shy to go get gossip on her own.” She remembered this with a giggle. It had been so long since Neil had heard her giggle. “He was sweet,” she continued. “And he always said exactly what I was thinking. Nobody’s ever thought like me before. Not even Victoria, really.” She gave a shuddery sigh. A fresh wave of tears started down her face. “So we talked to him for awhile, I don’t remember about what, and then the opera ended and we had to leave. Edward said he’d walk us out. Victoria went ahead of me, so I could hang back and have time with him alone. She could tell we had a connection.” Jennifer unwrapped her arms from around her legs. “He walked me all the way home. I don’t think he meant to. We just couldn’t stop laughing, you know? And when I was about to go inside, he kissed me.”
Neil tried not to look surprised. Jennifer had never seemed to be the romantic type.
“We made plans to meet again. We found each other at the Opera House, in the markets, in restaurants. We used to write letters in secret code and leave them at an abandoned stand in the market.” She smiled faintly. “I think I loved him.”
Neil couldn’t help it. “What happened to him?”
Her smile faded. “I started my assassin training. I was busy all the time. And he was busy, too. He was going to join the military. He didn’t want to, but it was his duty. It was a great honor to be a Celerius and go into the military.”
Neil nearly jumped to his feet. “Your boyfriend was Edward Celerius?”
Jennifer swallowed. “I never told anyone but Victoria. I knew people wouldn’t understand.”
“Jennifer!” Neil shoved his hand through his hair. “You can’t just date a Celerius! Don’t you see how wrong it is?”
Jennifer’s eyes were shining with tears again, and Neil almost regretted his words. “The families aren’t even technically related anymore. It’s been nearly three hundred years,” she said defensively.
“That’s not why it’s wrong. We were at war.”
“Don’t you see I didn’t have a choice?”
“You could have chosen not to see him again.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t have. He was so perfect for me, Neil.” She took a deep, shuddery breath. “Dad sent me out on a few assignments, and I passed them all easily. He told me I was the best assassin candidate he’d seen in years. And then he gave me my first actual assassination. It was a more difficult test than the others, but Dad said he knew I could do it.” She ran her hand over her ponytail. “It was Edward. I refused, of course. I told him I didn’t want to be an assassin anymore. I couldn’t tell him the real reason. He was enraged. He said he had information that, at that very moment, the Celerius family was plotting to kill me. My talents had not gone unnoticed. He told me they would be clever in choosing an assassin or a situation that I wouldn’t suspect.”
Neil’s heart sank.
“I went to see Edward that night. I brought my knife. It was the first time I’d been to the Celerius estate. He let me in. He knew something was wrong. He saw me shaking.” Jennifer was about to cry again. “He brought me up to his room and told me everything would be fine and that he loved me … but he reached for something in his pocket too quickly and I thought it was a weapon. I—”
“Stop!” Neil felt like he was being strangled. “You don’t have to say the rest.”
She closed her eyes and took deep breaths. “It was one of those secret letters we communicated with. I thought it was a weapon. I couldn’t cremate him,” she whispered. “I couldn’t.”
The room was uncomfortably silent as the gravity of Jennifer’s story began to settle on Neil’s shoulders.
“That’s why I warned you. About Bianca, I mean. When she helped you in the markets, a long time ago. Assassins shouldn’t have friends. It’s too hard that way. I don’t want … I won’t let you put yourself through everything I went through. It’s not fair. None of it is fair.”
“Jen …” He didn’t know what to say.
“And I know you want to be an assassin,” Jennifer went on. “I know you want it more than anything. You think it will bring you glory and make you a Vapros hero and help you find your advanced abilities. None of it’s worth it, Neil. Not one second is worth it because you have to live with yourself afterwards. And now I have to remember it forever. Now I have this.” She pulled her shirt to the side to reveal a tattoo slightly above her heart. It was a skeletal hand clutching a heart. “I told Father I seduced Edward, so this was the tattoo he gave me.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. “I’m sorry,” Neil said. "About everything you’ve gone through. But you can’t blame yourself for Edward. You didn’t know. You thought he would kill you first. You have to forgive yourself.”
“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up,” she said. “Any of it. The planning, the recruiting. This is all hopeless.”
“This can’t be hopeless. If we give up, they win. Saewulf wins.”
“I know. But it’s hard.” She sat in silence for a few moments. “What are you going to do when all this is over? Could you really just put all this behind you?”
“I’d try. I’d keep the family going. But not like it was before. I’m going to have a real family. A family that doesn’t fight all the time.”
“Every family fights, Neil. It’s part of loving each other. Look at the two of us.”
He couldn’t quite believe his ears. “You love me?”
“Of course I do!” She punched his shoulder gently. “You’re my baby brother.”
“I know, it’s just . . . you’ve never acted like it.” He let out a breath. “What do you think you’ll do when it’s over?”
“I’m going to do something for Victoria,” she decided. “It will be something big—maybe a memorial.”
“I’ll help you,” Neil promised. “We’ll build a statue of her and put it right in the nightlife district.”
“You really think we’ll make it out of this?”
“We will,” he said. “I promise.”
Jennifer laughed a little through her nose. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Neil.”
“I can keep this one. I can try.”
She stood up and dusted herself off. “I’m going to bed,” she said. “It’s been an emotional day. When Rhys gets home, tell him goodnight for me.”
“I will.” Neil stood up, too. “Jen?”
She was on her way to her bedroom, but paused. “Yeah?”
“I, um … I love you, too.”
She nodded appreciatively and disappeared into her room. Neil cocked his head, listening carefully, but for the first time in months, he didn’t hear quiet sobs coming from Jennifer’s bedroom. He tried to process everything she had just told him. Neil ran his fingers through his hair. He stared in the direction of Jennifer’s door and smiled faintly. At last, all he heard was silence. Maybe there was hope for her, yet.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
THE MARKETS
DARIUS TAURLUM
Michael wandered through the markets looking for a woman to occupy his time. He wasn’t drunk yet, but planned to be by the time he hobbled home. He noticed a pretty young woman at one of the stands and he grinned. Target acquired. Before he could reach her, he was grabbed by the shoulder and yanked around.
“Darius?” Michael said, confused. “What are you doing here?”
“Someone just tried to kill me,” he said
bluntly.
Michael still looked confused. “But you’re alive.”
Darius seemed exasperated. “I’d realized that by myself, actually. I fended her off.”
Michael wrinkled his giant nose. “That’s curious. Who was it?”
“Remember that assassin who tried to kill me in the Imperial dungeon?”
“No.”
“Oh, I see your mind's as sharp as ever. Look, I'm in trouble. I need a new place to stay. Where have you been sleeping?”
“Calm down, kiddo.” Michael said, “Let’s take this one step at a time. Who would want you dead?”
“The emperor does, but I don’t think it was him.”
“Maybe it was the other families,” Michael suggested, sneaking a look over his shoulder. The woman was gone. A little dejected, he turned back to his brother. “They might want to take you out.”
Darius said dismissively, “No, I talked to Neil Vapros the other day. He wanted to help me. He’s trying to get the families together. Think Michael! Who wants me dead?”
Michael’s ears perked up. “He wants to get the families together?”
“Yeah, they’re meeting tomorrow night at the First Church of Enlightenment. They’re trying to find a way over the wall using some back gate of some sort. Focus, Michael! There’s an assassin after me!”
There was panic in his voice, but Michael barely noticed. He rubbed his chin. “We should go,” he said finally. “To the church, I mean.”
Darius looked at him incredulously. “Are you serious? I thought we gave up on the revolution thing.”
“We did,” Michael answered. “But if people are going over the wall, you and I should be among them. Once we’re outside Altryon, we’re free men. No more being hunted.” He leaned closer. “No more assassins.”
“No more assassins.” It sounded nice. “Fine, I’ll be there. You too?”
“Absolutely, brother. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Darius turned on his heel and walked back the way he had come, leaving Michael to scan the streets, looking for another girl to occupy his time.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
IMPERIAL DUNGEON
CARLIN FILUS
Carlin stared through the bars at his captive with a wistful smile on his face. Ever since he had achieved a position with the empire, he had loved spending time in the dungeons. A new wing had been added and nothing supplied him with more joy than wandering around the dark halls. A raspy voice called from the top of the stairs. “Oh, Carlin,” Saewulf hissed. “You’ve picked such an odd place to pout.”
Carlin scowled in Saewulf’s general direction. “Leave me alone, servant.”
Saewulf effortlessly used his powers to glide down the staircase to Carlin’s side. “Such an interesting revelation that was,” Saewulf mused with a dark smile. “I can’t believe the emperor never thought to tell me about his connection with you.”
Carlin glared forward, not bothering to face the psychic who was practically dancing around him. “I don’t understand why he would. He’s not particularly proud.”
Saewulf thoughtfully pulled his long, orange hair away from his eyes and tied it into a ponytail. “If you would, I’d love a little clarification. How did you come to be?”
“Well,” Carlin said bitterly, “when a man and woman like each other very much….”
Saewulf chuckled, his voice trickling out like cold water. “Was that a joke? From you?”
Carlin continued to stare through the bars. “The emperor once had a mistress before he was actually the emperor. I was born. I shouldn’t have been.”
“Interesting,” Saewulf said. “It seems even he had a legacy phase. It’s not just Lightborns.”
“You don’t need to be trying to spread your legacy to have children,” Carlin responded. “He wasn’t, anyway.”
Saewulf peered into the cell at a prisoner for a moment. “Well, this explains your latest promotion.”
Carlin finally turned to face Saewulf and his hand moved to the handle of his sword. “Pardon me, Saewulf. Care to repeat that?”
Saewulf wasn’t intimidated; instead, he looked rather amused. “Carlin, are you honestly trying to tell me you were promoted purely because of your skills as a tactician or a strategist? Grow up.”
Carlin looked ready to pull his sword. “I was given no advantage,” he replied. “Ever! I grew up poor and joined the empire the second I could. And then I worked for it. I worked every blasted day until my fingers bled and I couldn’t continue.”
Saewulf said, “It’s just odd. I heard that you blew through the ranks to your current position. It takes most generals nearly their entire lives to reach such a status. Well, all generals except Anthony Celerius. But with his strategic mind and swordsmanship, how could he not reach general quickly? How old are you Carlin? Forty? Forty-five? Celerius was only thirty when he became general.”
“And look where he is now,” Carlin spat as he drew his sword. “I put my blade through his chest and then I had his body burned. And he deserved it.”
Saewulf sneered. “Because he was better than you? Because he was in your way of becoming a man your father would notice?”
Carlin clenched his sword and hissed, desperately trying to avoid playing Saewulf’s game. “No,” he managed, “he deserved it. I trained with him and rose through the ranks with him, but he was always praised because of skills he was born with.”
Saewulf back-pedaled a few steps as Carlin advanced. “Oh, I see,” he cooed. “It wasn’t fair?”
“You’re damn right it wasn’t fair!” Carlin roared. “I spend every second training and bettering myself and some kid speeds through the ranks because he was born with certain skills? People who take advantage of their birthright and hold it over the rest of us are not to be admired as gods. They’re to be exterminated as abominations.”
Saewulf bobbed his head thoughtfully and his smile began to fade. “That’s a popular theory,” he said. “But not everyone who’s born into privilege is an abomination, Carlin.”
“The Lightborns are,” Carlin said. “Them especially—the Vapros, the Taurlum and the Celerius. They don’t belong out there with the innocent people. That’s why I come down here. To remind myself where they really belong.” Saewulf pivoted on his foot to look into the cell where Carlin had been staring. Inside was a body with arms outstretched, straining against chains that suspended him from either wall like a demented scarecrow. An iron mask had been fitted over his face and small air holes were visible. “They belong in one of two places: here in these cells or in the ground.”
“That’s Sir Vapros, eh?” Saewulf asked. “What’s with the mask?”
“It limits his air,” Carlin said. “He needs air to materialize. They all do. With the limited supply, he’s left helpless.”
Saewulf paused for a moment and then turned to leave. “It’s been good to speak with you, Carlin. It’s always interesting to see what makes psychopaths like you tick.”
“Go to hell,” Carlin murmured as he was left to examine the helpless prisoners.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
FIRST CHURCH OF ENLIGHTENMENT
NEIL VAPROS
“No one is going to show up,” Jennifer said glumly. She was lying flat on her back behind the alter, throwing her knife into the air and catching it by the handle before it hit her face. The trick made Neil nervous, but Jennifer never missed.
The First Church of Enlightenment wasn’t a place Neil had ever spent a lot of time. He didn’t believe in The Man with the Golden Light as deeply as his father did. He’d never really stopped to consider religion at all. He didn’t know why the “Man” had chosen his family to gift or why he’d picked them to protect the city or why he’d never intervened when the feuding became heated.
Maybe he thought the feud couldn’t be fixed.
“I say we head home now and pretend we never had this terrible idea to rely on our greatest enemies,” Neil said.
“Yeah,” a boomin
g voice said from the door. “Enemies can be a bunch of flaky bastards, can’t they?”
Neil jumped up from his sitting position on the stage and materialized down into the pews to get a better look. “Darius?” he said, squinting. The Taurlum swaggered down the aisle. “You look sober. And bathed.”
Darius rolled his eyes. “That’s because I am. You’re a deductive genius.” He leaned against the pulpit. “I’m not used to being in the same room as a Vapros without trying to kill it,” he admitted, looking down at Jennifer.
“Welcome to desperation,” she said, tossing her knife up again. Darius plucked it out of the air, catching it by the blade, unaffected by its sharpness. She glared at him, but didn’t get up. “Did you bring your brother?”
“Michael’s supposed to meet me.”
Rhys poked his head out from the back room where he’d been combing the cabinets for bottles of wine. “There’s nothing back here,” he reported. “Which is a shame because I doubt Darius Taurlum will be able to see straight without a little—” He cut himself off quickly when he saw Darius standing on the stage wielding a knife. “Hello,” he said nervously. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Rhys.”
Darius handed the knife back to Jennifer and lumbered over to Rhys. “Darius,” he said, catching Rhys’s palm in a crushing handshake. Rhys winced.
“Don’t hurt him, Darius,” Neil said. “We need him in top shape. He’s the brains behind this operation.”
