by Linda Welch
“I think you will understand when you meet Lawrence.” He stood and presented his hand to me.
I stayed put. “Wait a minute. You said you’ve looked for the killers for years - you just mentioned a position of some kind.”
“I’m an enforcer for the ruling House.” His hand went to the nape of his neck. “The tattoo identifies me as such. Rules govern those of us who live among you and my job is to ensure they are adhered to.” His eyes went steely. “I failed miserable with the children.” Then he took my hand and hauled me upright.
“And you gotta explain this House thing,” I said as he led me to the curtain. He held it aside and preceded me up the steps.
At the top of the staircase, we emerged in Gorge’s apartment, into a small square hall with doors front and to the sides. A small Oriental rug lay on the floor and a large, tasteful but nonetheless artificial plant in a brown ceramic pot sat on the floor beside the facing door. Gorge waited in the open doorway.
I followed him into the living room, but I barely notice the decor. I was transfixed by the sight of a small, beautiful brown-haired boy sitting on a chaise lounge, his bright eyes lighting up at sight of Gorge.
A little boy with sparkling eyes and pointed teeth.
His gaze switched to me, and his smile widened. In something of a daze, I went over and knelt at his feet, looking up at him. His smile wavered as I continued to stare.
I couldn’t come up with anything cheerful or reassuring to say to a child who just lost his mother. He’s just a little boy, I told myself, yet something old looked out of his eyes.
I cleared my throat. “Lawrence, do you understand what happened to your mom?”
“Yes. She died, so Gorge is looking after me,” he said in a high, sweet voice. He looked to where Gorge and Royal stood. Gorge gave him an encouraging nod. “We’re going to live in Bel-Athaer, with my family.”
“No no no,” Gorge chastised gently. “You are going to Bel-Athaer. You’ll love it.”
Lawrence’s little shoulders straightened. He said, his tone cool, “Gorge is coming with me.”
Gorge wrung his hands together. “I’m gratified by the honor, Lord Lawrence, but my business won’t run itself,” he said rather condescendingly.
“But I want you to come.”
“I am sorry, but it’s not possible. Perhaps - “
“You will come,” Lawrence said in a deeper tone as his eyes darkened.
Startled, I went back on my heels, with the conviction Lawrence was no helpless child. Gorge called him Lord - he was an important person in the land of Bel-Athaer. I recalled Father Robert’s words, about Lawrence’s following at school, how the other kids seemed drawn to him. A Lord, who already had a Court of willing little human children; who was already accustomed to being obeyed.
Gorge knew it too. Looking panicked, he fluttered his fingers in the air. “But my Lord, I am banished!”
“I’ve decided you’re not,” Lawrence said.
Gorge went to a glass-fronted bookcase. He chose a large, heavy book and showed me the spine as he went back to the bedroom. “He wants a bedtime story,” he said with a roll of his eyes. The Tales of the Brothers Grimm.
I stood with my back to the window overlooking Eccles Avenue, arms folded over my chest. Royal faced me from the other side of the room. I think my expression said I’d had enough of mystery and vague words. I wanted answers.
He went to a chaise lounge upholstered in pale-blue silk. “Come here, Tiff. Please.”
I joined him. We sat side by side. I heard the low, rhythmic burr of Gorge’s voice from the bedroom, then he fell silent. Gorge crept into the living room and eased the bedroom door closed. “Fast asleep. The poor mite is exhausted.”
“Is that any way to address your master?” Royal said.
Gorge’s mouth popped open, then he realized Royal teased him and flapped an admonishing hand.
“So you were banished from Bel-Athaer?” I asked him.
“Royal’s father exiled me for a teensy misdemeanor.”
Royal snorted.
Gorge glared at him. “A misdemeanor,” he insisted. He crossed one leg over the other and laid his wrist on his knee. “Anyway, I prefer life here.” His expression twisted and he slumped. “I like it here,” he said plaintively.
“It will not be so bad,” Royal said. “Think of all the attention you will receive at court as the High Lord’s favorite.”
High Lord? That definitely sounded important.
“That’s what I’m afraid of. I remember life at court all too well,” said Gorge disconsolately.
I sprang to my feet. “Okay! Enough! You two tell me everything, from the beginning.”
“I’m not saying a word,” from Gorge.
“You will be more comfortable here,” Royal said, patting the chaise lounge. “Please.”
So I sat again, rather heavily. Gorge winced as my backside hit the piece of antique furniture.
“I need to go back in time to explain what happened,” Royal began. “The High Lady was assassinated fifty years ago, and - “
“High Lady?”
“Think Queen,” Gorge mouthed.
“Explain please,” I said tersely.
Royal’s hand came down on mine and the warmth of his skin, well, it made me feel somewhat better. “The peoples of Bel-Athaer belong to what we call Houses, which I suppose are comparable to small nations. There are between five and six hundred at present. Each of these domains is overseen by a ruling Lord or Lady and they in turn answer to the High Lord, or High Lady. The titles are hereditary.”
“Like in medieval Europe?”
“Hereditary inheritance is a tradition still followed by countries in your world.”
“It’s when some power-hungry asshole way back when decided he had a god-given right to rule, and wanted to keep it in the family.”
He grinned. “Whatever. Whoever we are, we cling to tradition.” His smile blinked out. “The High Lady was assassinated fifty years ago and since then we have warred among ourselves. Without her ruling hand, Bel-Athaer dissolved into chaos. Lacking a High ruler, House fought House for land, for power, for wealth. Many Houses were overcome and amalgamated with the victor’s. Fifty years, Tiff. Fifty years of war.”
His eyes took on a faraway look. I wondered if he fought in those wars, if he killed, if he lost family or friends.
He continued: “We clung to one hope: the Heir would return. When the High Lady died, we learned of a plot to kill him and his family, so we brought them here. They went underground, so deep underground they went off our radar. Lawrence is the heir’s grandson, ruler by right of blood and power, the High Lord.”
I tried to absorb that. Little Lawrence, a child, was supposed to rule an entire warmongering race? It didn’t seem possible.
“Lawrence will assume his position. He will be trained and advised. When he gains his full power, he will bend every Lord and Lady in Bel-Athaer to his will. He will bring peace.”
I looked at Gorge. “You weren’t just Lindy’s friend, were you.”
He dropped his chin, looking at his hands. “I knew about Lawrence the first time he and Lindy came in the Emporium. But Bel-Athaer is forbidden me, I couldn’t go back, or contact the High House. So I kept my eye on them. I knew someone would eventually come after Lawrence. I hoped his House would find him, but I knew others would be searching.”
“To kill him.”
Gorge nodded glumly.
“Not only did I fail the High House, my family were traitors,” Royal said. “They murdered hundreds of innocent half-human, half-Gelpha children because one of them could, possibly, be the new Heir.”
“His Lordship does not blame you for what your brother did,” Gorge said.
“He knows?” I asked.
“He knows,” Gorge confirmed.
“Did Lindy know, about Lawrence’s father?”
Royal shook his head as he answered me. “One of her forebears had Gelpha blood in hi
s veins. It was weak in her, but allowed her to carry the High Lord’s bloodline.”
I stiffened my spine and eyed him narrowly. “So what was she, a broodmare?”
“Lindy called him a one-night-stand and said he captivated her the moment she saw him. She couldn’t resist him,” Gorge said, looking abashed.
I knew what he implied. Lawrence’s father used his power on Lindy. She thought she loved him, maybe she did, but not of her own free will.
Gorge saw my downturned mouth. “I’m sorry, Miss Banks. He must have had his reasons. We don’t know what happened to his father and mother, why he didn’t come out of hiding, or return to Bel-Athaer. For motives unknown to us, he sired a child and disappeared again. He couldn’t stay with Lindy and risk leading his enemies to his son. And Lindy loved Lawrence with all her heart. She didn’t regret … anything.”
He didn’t know that. I imagined Lindy pining for a man who would never return, looking at her son and seeing the father’s face. Then I had a thought. “How did your people know about Lawrence?”
I thought I saw reluctance on Royal’s face, followed by resignation. “Every House has a Seer,” he said, again using capital letters. “Every one of them shared the same vision six years ago. On November 9th, 2002, somewhere in your world, an heir was born.”
“Seer as in wise man,” I scoffed. “And you call yourself a modern society?”
“Take care how you speak of them, Tiff,” Gorge said in an almost-whisper. “They are very powerful.”
“I hardly think they’ll hear me. So these Seers predicted the birth, and every House knew about it.”
“They sent their people to find him, some to welcome him home, others to kill him,” Royal said, absolutely not amused.
“They abducted the boys or killed them outright,” said Gorge.
“Like Charlie Geary,” I said sadly. “So they are dead, all of them.”
Royal leaned on my shoulder. “All part-Gelpha male children. Once they saw the assassins, they couldn’t be allowed to live to identify their killers.”
Chapter Nineteen
I woke stretched out on the chaise lounge, my head on Royal’s knees, his palm resting lightly on my hair. Someone had removed my shoes, which sat together on the carpet. Evidently, I fell asleep in the middle of a conversation with Gorge and Royal. It felt like early morning. I looked at an ornate black and gold onyx clock on a low cabinet. Six-thirty.
Lawrence bounced into the room. “I’m going to stab someone with a sword!”
“Only if necessary, Lord Lawrence,” said Gorge, following on the boy’s heels. “There will also be studying and homework.”
Lawrence scowled, looking like an ordinary little boy when told he has to do extra school work, except he sparkled. Then he charged back to the bedroom, slashing the air with an imaginary sword.
“You told him he will stab people?” Royal asked Gorge.
“Certainly not! I was talking about his lessons and when I mentioned weaponry and the martial arts, he asked what I meant.”
I roused myself. Royal helped me upright. “Hello, Tiff,” he said softly.
“Hello, you,” I replied with a soppy smile. “Will Lawrence really get to learn how to use a sword? He’s six!”
“He’ll learn to use every weapon known to your world and mine. The sword is traditional.”
“And traditionally used in duels?” I asked, recalling the flash of polished metal as Royal fought his brother in the depths of Morte Tescien. “You guys are big on tradition in the nastiest ways.”
“Tradition has a depth of meaning only those who were slaves can understand,” Gorge said.
I intercepted a look between them. Royal was not happy Gorge brought that up. Gorge cringed.
We have committed many acts of atrocity, we who call ourselves human beings, as if the title makes us humane, although I never heard or read of the enslavement of people like Royal’s. “But we’re weaklings compared to you guys. How could we - ?”
Royal cut me off. “You were not our masters.” I thought I saw loathing in his eyes. He sounded … upset, and angry, and … uneasy. He looked at his clasped hands. “We don’t speak of them. It was a long time ago, Tiff. Don’t ask.”
I saw the enormous conceit of my assumption, so I didn’t ask. Which didn’t mean I would not one day; but not now.
“We should be going,” Royal said.
I smiled at Gorge. “What about you, Gorge? Are you leaving soon?”
“Right after you.” He sighed heavily as he looked around his living room. “Someone will take care of the Emporium for me. Me, I’m off to Bel-Athaer and a life of … tagging along behind the High Lord I suppose.”
Poor Gorge, who thought he did his good deed and could go back to posing as an incredibly cute but rather twee young man.
Lawrence emerged from the bedroom, went to Gorge and took his hand. He looked up at Gorge’s face. “I need you, Gorge.”
Gorge forced a bright smile. “Which makes everything all right, then, doesn’t it!”
“Good-bye, Lawrence,” I said. I couldn’t bring myself to call him Lord.
The boy eyed me solemnly. “Good-bye Miss Banks. Thank you.”
I felt Royal’s hand on my shoulder. “Come on. I brought the truck over while you slept.”
As we went downstairs, I heard Lawrence. “Gorge, where are my pictures of momma?”
“In your backpack.”
“Where’s my backpack?”
“I don’t know,” Gorge said rather snappishly. “Where did you leave it, young Law … my Lord?”
Royal held the wheel in a tight-knuckled grip, driving with grim determination. I tried to break the heavy silence and succeeded in putting my big ol’ foot in my big ol’ mouth. “You mentioned your family.”
“I meant my people, my clan. My mother and father died in the wars. My brother was Lord of Morte Tescien.”
His fingers dug in the leather-covered steering wheel. “The High House will avenge the murders and the attempted assassination of the High Lord.”
I had already thought of that. “I’m sorry your House was responsible.”
“Morte Tescien is no longer my House. I was sixteen when my uncle and his family were murdered and my father returned to Bel-Athaer as Lord of Morte Tescien. I transferred my allegiance to the High House when called to serve as an enforcer.”
“You can change Houses?”
“Only if you go to the High House. Otherwise, you remain with the House to which you are born.”
I decided to keep my mouth shut; now was not the time to bug him with a heap of questions. He must be as exhausted as I felt, and I felt awful despite a sleep so heavy I didn’t know he left to get his truck. I wondered if he dwelled on the events of the past hours, how he killed his brother to save my life. No matter what he said about their relationship, they were brothers and that had to mean something.
I wouldn’t know. If my family were still alive, they were a mystery to me.
I thought about Lindy Marchant. I hoped she went to where she should be and did not haphazardly wander around Clarion. I like to think it’s a happy place. I guess I’ll find out when I get there.
I thought about Lawrence’s father making Lindy want him, love him, and Caesar’s partner Phaid putting his will on me. Royal didn’t do that to me and never tried, but had he ever used the faculty to influence a human being?
Demons could control the mind and heart of the unwary; that opened up horrific possibilities. A demon in a position of power could do untold damage to our society.
I thought about Lawrence Marchant, an eerie amalgamation of little human boy and alien Lord.
We left downtown Clarion and drove through The Avenues, street after street of Victorian mansions, most of them converted to apartments. The majority look sad, the paint on window-and door frames chipped, their cookie-cutter moldings dirty and faded. Landlords buy them cheap and don’t want to put more money than necessary to their upkeep. The wea
lthy elite once lived here, but now it belongs to the downtrodden. I often walk The Avenues because the trees are so big they cast shade full across the streets, and no one bothers me. People up here mind their own business.
I noticed Royal kept checking his rear-and side-view mirrors and nausea churned in my stomach. I twisted in my seat to look back at the street falling behind us, hoping to not see a following automobile. “Will they come after us?”
“I’m watching for the boys in blue. Mike put an APB out on you.”
Oh. Shit.
A cryptic few words, the line goes dead, I’m nowhere to be found—of course Mike suspected the worse. “Have you still got my cell?”
He dipped in his pocket and handed me my phone. I turned it on. Five incoming calls from Clarion PD. I would find some on my home phone too.
We climbed Beeches Street. I hiked my body up, waiting to see the roof of my house. In the cavern, I thought I would never see my house again, and knew how much it meant to me. My home was the one stable thing in my life. Oh, yeah, along with my permanent fixtures, Jack and Mel.
Royal parked his truck in the street and we got out. The sun hung just above the mountains behind the house, but snow cloaked the peaks and mottled the slopes below. Frost dusted what was left of my plants in their bed beneath the kitchen window. Time to hang my down coat on the rack in the hall, put my boots in the tray beneath.
Except I didn’t have a coat-rack and tray anymore.
It felt good to put my feet on the path to my house, good to fit my key in the lock and push the door open.
Mac sat in the hall. He looked up at Royal. “Bad boy!” Royal said sternly. “Bad boy, Mac!”
I went to my knees. “You can’t call him bad when he hasn’t done anything.”
“He wants to. I can see it in his eyes.”
I reached for Mac, and he slit his eyes, stepped back, presented his rear and trundled to the kitchen.
I got myself upright and went after him, Royal right behind me. Mac stood over his empty bowl, looking in it as if he thought food would miraculous rise up and fill the thing.
