Mikey looked down to the hand. Its fingers were curled up like a dead spider. “You need anything?”
Frederick’s chest rose and fell slowly before he answered. “Water.”
“You got it.” He hurried into the kitchen and fetched a glassful, then carried it to the armchair. Frederick didn’t look like he could hold the glass without spilling it everywhere, so he figured it’d be better to do the job for him. He held it to Frederick’s lips, then tipped it with care. “Right here,” he said.
At first he thought they were gonna have an accident, but Frederick’s lips gave way just as the water touched them, and he sipped from the glass, swallowing a few times before he waved Mikey off.
Mikey reached out to put the glass down on a table. “Okay. You wanna tell me what the hell’s going on with you?”
“Just an aura,” Frederick groaned. “It’ll pass. It’s mostly done now.”
“Uh huh.” He shuffled his feet, then shrugged and sat on the couch. “Well, you ain’t looking so hot, so how about we get you to bed and you can rest?”
Frederick shifted in his seat until he was facing in Mikey’s direction then, slowly but surely, one of his eyes cracked open. “Fuck off,” he grunted.
“You fuck off,” he said. “I didn’t agree to let you take over my life only for you to flake on me like this. You’re supposed to be this amazing superhuman, and I didn’t sign on for you to be anything less than what you sold me.” Mikey crossed his arms and snorted. “So until you’re feeling better, you don’t get to tell me to do anything. You’re gonna get your ass in bed, and you’re gonna let me help you. C’mon, get up.”
Mikey stood and leaned in to try and help Frederick to his feet. The guy was like twice his size, but whatever. Between the two of them they had to be able to manage some stairs.
Frederick’s eye followed him and his nose creased like he was disgusted at the thought, but he didn’t resist. He even put in some effort to stand, though that seemed to hurt him. He clamped his eye shut again and leaned heavily against Mikey, arm heavy across his shoulders. “Fine,” he grunted.
Mikey put his arm around Frederick’s waist and steered him toward the stairs. It was weird holding a guy who easily had fifty pounds on him, all of it muscle, like he was the fragile one.
“Don’t get any funny ideas.”
Mikey rolled his eyes as they staggered up the staircase together. “I get funny ideas all the time, and you don’t look like you’re in any position to stop me. Right now I’m thinkin’ you’d look awesome with a mustache.”
Frederick snorted at him. “Jesus,” he muttered.
“Maybe a buzz-cut.” He nudged Frederick’s door open with his toes, and together they fumbled their way into the bedroom. “And a white fluffy cat you can have in your lap while you’re doing your Dr. Evil shtick. ‘No, Mister Brennan, I expect you to get a passport! Mwu-ha-haah!’ And her tail can be flapping around like crazy while you’re petting her.”
Frederick let out a low groan as he peeled away and fell into bed. “I hate you,” he said without any hatred.
“Yeah. You’re an asshole. Gimme that.” He grabbed one of Frederick’s feet and pulled his shoe off, then did the same with the other. “Now shut up and get some sleep.”
Frederick rolled onto his side and showed Mikey two fingers in some weird-ass victory sign, and Mikey pulled the sheets up over him then backed off to the door and paused a moment to look back. Frederick already seemed to have passed out, though, so Mikey smiled fondly before he headed back to the laptop to find out what the hell an aura was.
28
MIKEY
It was two damn days before Frederick would even talk to him again. Mikey figured he’d got all bent out of shape for letting himself have his migraine in front of Mikey the way he had. That or he was just embarrassed he’d been vulnerable. Either way, Frederick took himself out on his errands, hit up the hotel gym, and kept himself busy with work on his laptop without exchanging a single word with Mikey.
Mikey went out to entertain himself and to collect his mail from the house. With bodyguards around him every time he left the penthouse, nobody bothered him. It was like their mere presence was enough to deter everyone.
The house was weirdly empty when he got there. Some of it had been vandalized, most likely by customers who were angry their dealer had disappeared, but his safe was still shut despite a few extra scratch marks on the door. He thought about taking the contents, but what good would it do? There was a bunch of drugs and cash in there, and he didn’t need either. Hell, if he got drugs on him now they might have sniffer dogs at the airport who could pick him out at a hundred paces and stop him from leaving the country.
It was too risky. Even though Frederick was in a huge sulk right now, he hadn’t thrown Mikey out on his ear, and Mikey still had his MasterCard to buy stuff on if he wanted to. There’s no way a couple hundred dollars in small bills compared to that. It’d just be loose change clogging up his pockets.
What little clothing he owned had all been stolen and, from the smell of it, someone had decided to take a leak in his closet while they were at it.
He supposed what startled him the most was how fast everyone had moved on. He meant nothing to these people, some of whom he’d known since high school. If he wasn’t there to sell them drugs he had no value to them at all, and was just as good to steal from as any other mark out there.
You do this to people.
Mikey sighed and looked to the envelopes he held. At least nobody had stolen them yet, or pissed on them, or set them alight, or whatever else could happen if he hadn’t stopped by to check for mail. They were the first step in his ticket outta here, and the quicker he got on with step two the faster he could leave it all behind, this mess of his own making.
It wasn’t an easy truth to accept, to adjust to. He despised these customers, but he was the one who gave them the shit they used in the first place. Heroin made ‘em come back time and time again, but sooner or later they’d either get clean or they’d die off, and now Mikey had a little perspective he could see it all from the outside and recognize how completely shortsighted it all was. Oh, sure, he had some casuals on the books too, people who could use as and when they chose to rather than because they needed it, but they were few and far between. Worse, they gave the addicts a great lie to tell themselves while they blindly compared themselves to role models they didn’t match up to.
Would his customers be addicts if Mikey wasn’t there to supply them? Sure, maybe. But maybe they’d be customers of dealers who didn’t accept anything but cash as payment. Or could be some of them would never have gone as far as heroin, stopping at speed or cocaine instead.
No. Frederick was right the whole time. Mikey did this to people. He took advantage, and it was about damn time he was honest to himself about it.
The trouble with that was it meant accepting that he’d done things to people, and had things done to him, that people shouldn’t ever have to live with.
You have some things to work through.
Mikey grit his teeth and gave one last look to his old bedroom, then walked away from it all. The only thing that stopped him setting fire to it was that he didn’t have a lighter.
HE CHECKED Frederick wasn’t on the phone or anything when he got back to the penthouse, then tossed the envelopes down on the desk beside his laptop.
“Enough,” he said. “We gotta talk.”
Frederick typed a few seconds more, then finally raised an eyebrow at him.
“You can’t give me the silent treatment forever, and you can’t keep me in the dark forever.” Mikey dragged a chair over from the dining room table and sat heavily in it by Frederick’s side. “You want me in your life but you ain’t telling me shit, and it’s time you did.”
Frederick pursed his lips and then closed his laptop. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
Mikey scowled at him, but then the room brightened, and Frederick turned to face him
fully.
“Are we in my head now?” Mikey’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes. I do not wish this conversation to be overheard.”
Mikey rocked his jaw, then lifted his chin. “Is that why you made it brighter? So I could tell the difference?”
“Correct.”
“Okay.” Mikey bit his lip, then nodded. “Thanks. You think the bodyguards are listening in or something?”
“Oh, no.” Frederick chuckled and got out of his chair. He brushed his hand across Mikey’s shoulder as he passed, then wandered to the windows. “Nothing like that. It’s a preventative measure against a rather more esoteric threat. Now, what is it you wish to talk about?”
Mikey got up and followed. He stopped by Frederick’s side and looked down at the city. Despite it being a picture Frederick painted for him, it was so immaculately detailed that he couldn’t tell it from the real thing.
“It’s pulled from your memories,” Frederick murmured. “It’s indistinguishable because it’s exactly what you have seen yourself.”
“Huh.” He glanced up to Frederick’s reflection in the glass. “Okay. That doesn’t matter, smartypants. You been acting weird ever since you got that phone call. What’s going on with you?”
“Hm.” Frederick clasped his hands together behind his back and made like the outside world was infinitely more fascinating than answering Mikey’s question. Then he tutted faintly. “You’ve looked into my family.”
“Sure.” There was no point denying it. Frederick knew exactly what he’d done.
“Where to begin,” Frederick mused. “I suppose with the funeral. I’ve always considered that to be the beginning, but I’m starting to realize that I have been wrong to do so. It goes much further back than that.”
Mikey shrugged. “Start wherever you want. Just start.”
Frederick almost seemed like he wasn’t going to say another word, but Mikey had learned that if he kept his mouth shut long enough Frederick would eventually get going, so he resisted the urge to say anything.
“You’ve read about the funeral. If you dig far enough you find a rumor here or there about some peculiar weather events during the service.” Frederick paused only long enough for Mikey to nod. “I am telepathic. Icky, my older brother, is telekinetic. Unlike me, he has control issues.”
Mikey snorted.
“Self control issues,” Frederick said dryly. “Although, yes, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he also had the same sort of predilections as myself. Comes from…” He hesitated. “A variety of factors, really, none of which are relevant at this exact moment but will become apparent the more you understand. Our father is a very strict man, very strong-willed. His word is law, and he has raised us to be his heirs. It is to be expected.”
Mikey chewed the inside of his cheek lightly, then shook his head. “Telekinetic,” he prompted.
“Ha, yes. Very good. I told you you were better than you give yourself credit for.” Frederick’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “I had no idea about Icky’s abilities back then, of course. At the funeral he began to scream bloody murder, and everything was thrown about as though we were in a tempest. Mostly he accused Father of killing Mother, but when I asked Icky about it later he denied all knowledge. It was as if he’d forgotten the whole thing. Which, of course, it transpires that he had.”
Mikey stepped back from the window and rested his ass against the back of the couch. “So you dug around in his head and found out why, right?”
“No. Ironically everyone in my immediate family is immune to my abilities. I suspect it’s genetic, but there’s no way to know. I’m a lawyer, not a scientist. Regardless, the upshot is that I cannot read Father, Icky, or Nicky, so I could neither dig up Icky’s memories, nor fish through Father’s for any evidence. But Icky had been so insistent that he’d completely lost his temper in public and I had to use my own ability to smooth things over and get witnesses to write it off as a weather event.”
Mikey nodded slowly. “Okay, so you think he knew something?”
“Bingo.” Frederick turned to face him, hands still behind his back. “I was so certain that Icky must have had cause. He’s not enough of an idiot to ruin Mother’s funeral over nothing. But I had no way to get that information out of him. At first I thought he just wanted to bury the whole fiasco and pretend it never happened, and I thought that perhaps with enough time passed, enough water under the bridge that he might eventually be willing to open up about it. But I’ve now learned that Icky’s brain quite literally just dumps any information it comes near whenever he has one of his little panic attacks. Whatever he once might have known, he’s genuinely forgotten.”
“Shit.” Mikey sucked on his teeth at the idea of just forgetting really important things like that. “You mean Laurence is sticking his dick in crazy?”
Frederick’s gaze hardened for a second. “No. Laurence isn’t sticking his dick in anything. And Icky isn’t crazy.” Then he sighed faintly and shook his head. “All right. Yes, he’s moderately insane. But that’s beside the point. The fact remains that I have been holding out hope for all these years that Icky might have some shred of evidence to support his claim, only to find out that he genuinely has none whatsoever.”
Mikey tried not to laugh at the idea that Laurence wasn’t fucking anyone, but it escaped him before he could catch it, so all he ended up doing was letting out a short, strangled sound like a cat’s yowl. He clapped his hand over his mouth to stop it. Once he was sure he could get words out, he dropped his hand and took a breath. “You’re going against your own dad,” he realized.
Frederick’s nod was sharp. “If he killed her, he has to pay,” he said. “And if he used some preternatural ability to do it with, then there is no evidence which the police will accept, and he will not face justice.”
Mikey let out a low whistle. “Holy fuck,” he whispered. “You’re gonna kill him.”
“If he is guilty,” the hard look was back in Frederick’s eyes, “I intend to ensure that he receives his sentence.”
Mikey stared at him and couldn’t tell whether that was awesome or terrible.
Maybe it was both.
29
FREDERICK
For all that Michael seemed to be taking things reasonably well, it was clear to Frederick that the boy’s mind was churning over all the new information quite rapidly. If he hadn’t got himself involved in drugs he would possibly make a reasonable investigator himself.
Watching Michael grow as an individual proved highly rewarding, and it was only the beginning. For all that Frederick had been concerned that he may be thinking with all the wrong parts of his anatomy, it transpired that his instincts were strong and he should have listened to them sooner.
Still, it was always best not to rush such things. He had not missed out on anything by proceeding with caution.
He waited now as Michael worked out whether he should be impressed or frightened by Frederick’s level of dedication. The thought process was rather amusing, and it lightened his own mood to listen in on it.
Like, actually kill his own father?
Or anyone.
Can you kill people with your mind? That’d be awesome. Oh, but scary. But kinda neat.
You seriously wanna do this?
You don’t strike me as a murder kinda guy.
“I’m not.” He shrugged. “I do try wherever possible not to become involved myself. I wouldn’t dream of facing Father.”
Michael blinked. “‘Cause you don’t wanna get your hands dirty.”
“Mm. That and he’s completely immune to me. I would have to get physical, and physical leaves evidence.” He left it there and waited for Michael to reach the logical conclusion.
It took a few seconds, but then Michael gasped. “You want your brother to do it.”
Frederick smiled briefly. “If Father is guilty, of course. I will never take action without utter certainty.”
“This is why everything you do is like a ballet,
isn’t it? All these careful moves you’re making all the time? You don’t want your dad to find out you’re onto him.”
“Again, correct.” He stepped closer and lowered his hands to his sides, then idly used his fingertips to part Michael’s knees so that he could invade his perception of personal space. “I actually didn’t wish for Father to discover that I had tracked Icky down at last, but that’s a bust now.”
Michael swallowed and stared at Frederick’s shirt collar. “The phone call.”
“Mmhm. He has surmised that I know where Icky is. The longer I remain here, the greater the likelihood that Father will work out where exactly I am, and therefore where Icky is.”
“And that would be bad?”
Frederick tipped his head aside and lay his hands to rest on either side of Michael’s chest. “Father wants Icky. Desperately. I tend to assume that if my opponent wishes something, then it is in my best interests to not allow them to have it. I don’t know why he wants Icky, but he has no compunction against demanding that I do my best to force Icky to return home whenever he thinks I know where Icky might be.” He pursed his lips as he gave Michael time to parse that information. “Now, however, his request is downright peculiar. I cannot fathom its meaning.”
Michael finally managed to look up at him. “What does he want?”
“Icky’s blood.” Michael gasped, so Frederick clarified his statement. “No, exactly that. He wishes for me to recover some of Icky’s blood. I do not mean that he wants Icky harmed. How I am to achieve one without the other I do not know.”
“‘Cause you can’t just make him give it to you then forget he did it,” Michael said.
“Correct again.” Frederick grinned down at him. “Do you have those test results yet?”
“I dunno. You’ve been hogging the laptop and refusing to talk to me.” Michael looked reasonably irked, which was understandable.
“Ah. My apologies.” He leaned down and brushed his lips against Michael’s temple, and was rewarded with a subtle shudder from the body beneath his hands. For all that he projected his arrogance out into the world, sometimes it was soothing to know that someone could feel this way for him of their own free will.
Reeve of Veils (Inheritance Book 4) Page 18
