Marxus reclaimed his bearings and thrust Denny off of him. He punched, pummeled and punished, ducking away from Griffin’s crazy swings. The two fought without mercy, taking the men down, one after the other, until they were the only ones who stood, chests heaving. Their knuckles were white with tension and red with blood.
When he was sure the others would not rise to fight them again, Marxus nodded to the nearest Vemreaux Supervisor. Supervisor Smith preferred to let the Waywards settle their own battles whenever possible. When Baird had been there, fights occurred far less often, so Smith interfered only to sweep away the offenders or offer his baton when a matter got out of hand.
“Looks like you found yourself a replacement,” Supervisor Smith commented to Marxus as he nudged one of the felled Waywards with the toe of his boot. “Next time, try not to kill them. More paperwork for me.”
Griffin’s chin jerked down to look at the bodies at his feet. “I didn’t kill anybody! I was just stopping them from jumping Marxus.”
Supervisor Smith requested a few stretchers on his Talkie-Comm. He chuckled and shook his head. “I know, kid. I saw the whole thing.”
Then why didn’t you do something? Don’t you know how easy Marxus makes your job? Griffin grumbled to himself. He dropped the shovel and bent down to feel Joodas’ pulse, willing it to stir beneath his fingertips. “I…I…I didn’t mean to, Supervisor Smith. I didn’t kill anyone! That’s not real! It can’t be!”
The Supervisor sniggered, pulling out a pad of paper from his back pocket. “What’d you think was going to happen? You smack someone’s skull with a shovel as hard as you did, they don’t stand much of a chance.” He shook his head.
Griffin looked down at Joodas’ motionless body in horror. His stomach clenched, and before he could stop it, Griffin turned and vomited on the nearest pile of scratch.
Smith pushed Griffin to the side, mid-hurl. “You know you can’t go puking on scratch, boy. That pile there? It’s worth more than you are. Aim your sick the other way.”
Griffin’s stomach and throat constricted simultaneously, making it difficult to catch his breath. Calm it down! Griffin commanded himself in Baird’s voice. Blue does this kind of thing all the time. She’s just out of her mind when she does it. It’s your first kill, is all. Joodas was asking for it, jumping Marxus. Exactly what Baird would’ve done. Griffin panted on all fours, spitting out the last of his regurgitated lunch. “I didn’t mean to,” Griffin confessed to Supervisor Smith.
“Relax. I’m just giving you solitary for the rest of the day after the post.”
“The post? But I stopped the fight!” Griffin clambered to his unsteady feet.
Supervisor Smith’s light demeanor turned sharp. He whipped out his baton and cracked Griffin on the shoulder with it, sending the Wayward back to the ground. “That sounds like questioning a Supervisor! Is that what you’re doing?”
“No, sir!”
“All you rats’ll get the same punishment. Except poor Joodas.” He lifted the dead Wayward’s chin with the toe of his boot. “Solitary’ll give you all a chance to cool off.” He nodded to Marxus with respect reserved only for the Wayward Baird left behind to run the yard. “Marxus.”
“Sir.” Marxus offered Griffin a hand up. Then he picked up Baird’s shovel and handed it to Griffin, who took it with hands that shook from nerves. “Griff, you’ll work with me from now on. Help me keep the peace. Baird’s shovel belongs to you.”
Griffin’s mouth fell open. “What? Me? I…I don’t think Baird would want that.”
Marxus postured. “It’s my call. You saved my life today. I could use a second man to help me run the yard.”
“But…”
Marxus shook his head. “You picked up Baird’s shovel. It’s been waiting for you. We all have.”
Griffin mumbled a modest reply, but was coming down from the adrenaline rush, so it was mostly unintelligible. He followed on rubbery legs after Marxus, who led the boy to take his beatings like a man.
Chapter Ten
Brother Baird
“I need you to open the diner early for me today,” Baird mumbled.
The sun had barely risen, and Blue knew that she was expected home from her nightly runs at dawn. Since Blue lost the ability to sleep some time in her childhood, she was permitted to run to Capital City and back while the rest of the country dreamt of their next party. In The Way, she’d had to lie on her cot, pretending to sleep for merciless hours to keep this particular fulfillment of prophecy a secret. She flopped on the hard floor of the hut and stretched out her burning legs, happy that she could be herself, if only in the privacy of their home.
“What for?” asked Blue. “Where are you going?”
“Correct response is, ‘That’s fine, Baird.’”
“That’s fine, Baird.” Sometimes I want to punch you in the face, Baird.
Baird sat up, his short auburn hair rumpled from the awkward angle of resting on the couch. “Lunch special is aged liver with three-month Hollandaise sauce and a side of pickled limes and turnips over mustard greens.”
Her nose wrinkled. The changed Vemreaux’s lessened sense of taste lent to unsavory meal choices just so they registered a modicum of flavor. “And for the unchanged?”
“Rosemary chicken with a spinach salad.”
“I’ll write it on the board.” She kept her voice low so as to not wake her best friends. Elle slept with a frown on her pouting lips, daring anyone to wake her before she was ready. Her blonde hair was strewn over the pillow, long legs reaching the foot of the worn mattress, and right arm draped around Grettel.
Grettel’s fearful eyes were closed, but her mouth hung open, permitting a soft snore to pass through her lips. Blue glanced down at them maternally, and for the third time that morning, was thankful that she was reunited with them. “Baird, where are you going?”
“I’ll be back before the lunch rush, but not much before. We got a request from the Peace Day committee to hold their morning meetings at the diner for the next couple days. Favor to Lawrence, really. They need a rehearsal space for whatever stupid parties are going on in Capital City next week for Peace Week.”
“They need any special setup?” she asked, refraining from asking him yet again where he was going.
“Dunno. You can handle it, though. Mayor’s gonna be there, someone from the University, Lawrence of course, and a few other important Vemreaux, so, you know, make sure Elle shines and you look…regular.” He pulled on his light blue work polo. “I told them they could have the diner from seven till we open today and tomorrow.”
“You know Lawrence scares Grettel. You sure she’ll be okay without you there?”
Baird glanced down at the girls on the mattress, and Blue saw a shadow of softness sweep his features, and then disappear. “I’ll be back around noon or so. She’ll be fine in the kitchen. Too busy to be scared.”
“You sure about that?”
“What’s with all the questions today?”
“What’s with all the secrecy?”
Baird sighed as he pulled out a tin can of Grade V rations and peeled back the foil top. “It’s the first of the month, Blue. I haven’t been back to check on Griff since Master Joe bought you.”
She’d forgotten about his monthly visits. Only family on the outside were allowed visitation with Waywards. Since most A-bloods didn’t have freed siblings or parents, there usually weren’t many appointments set. Blue and Griffin had been envied that they were allowed to see someone from the real world. The fact that it was Baird, whose name still held high respect in The Way, was icing on the cake.
Blue’s heart leapt. “Can I come? Please, Baird, please! I need to make sure he’s okay.” Words tumbled out of her faster than she could censor them. “I don’t know how controlled he is without me there. I just want to make sure he’s not getting into fights or anything. Please, Baird!”
Her earnest voice woke Elle, which in turn, roused Grettel. “Ugh!” Elle exclaimed, resting
her hand across her eyes. “It’s not even really morning yet, guys. I’m sleeping, here!”
“Time to get up, girls.” Baird shuffled over to the mattress and tapped Elle’s bare foot with his, grinning mischievously.
“Ah!” Elle cried, now irrevocably awake. She sat up, her foot recoiling from his. “Don’t touch me with your gross bare man feet. That’s disgusting!” He chuckled as he touched her cheek with his toe, relishing her choked exclamation of revulsion. “Sick! Get off me!”
“Baird, I need to see Griffin. I’m better with him. I can tell just by looking how he’s doing.”
Baird shook his head as he returned to the table, satisfied that Elle was finally awake. She had flown into the bathroom to scrub at her cheek. “I can’t send the girls to open the diner by themselves. Not safe.”
“It’s barely morning! Who’s out at this hour? Most lowlifes aren’t early risers.”
Uninterested in arguing with her, Baird turned and scooped the last of the mashed gray congealment into his mouth. “You’ve got about forty minutes or so to get there and get it all up and running. I’m using the car, so you can take the path through the woods.” He slipped on his socks and shoes without looking at his sister.
“No!” Blue searched for new arguments to throw at him. “He doesn’t talk to you the way he opens up to me. He tries to be all tough to impress you so you know he’s a man, but he’ll be honest with me. I need to know he’s okay!” Beads of sweat from her run dripped down her cheeks, the perfect imposters of tears.
Baird continued to ignore her, which infuriated her all the more, adding flame to her increasing irrationality. Blue’s livid eyes glowed like cerulean pools of fleeting madness as she yanked open the nearest drawer and pulled out a butter knife. Without hesitation or calculation, she launched the weapon across the small home, sinking the tip into the door just above the handle that Baird’s fist was choking.
Baird froze. Blue seethed. Grettel screamed.
Baird turned his feral eyes on his sister, daring her anger to be bigger than his. “Take this knife out now.”
“I will not be invisible here!” Blue shouted, fists squeezed tight to tether her temper. “I did everything you said in The Way! I kept my head down, eyes hidden, mouth shut. I hid myself from practically everyone so you didn’t make them disappear!” She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. “I’ve been in the real world almost a month now, and I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I want one thing, and you treat me like I’m invisible. Well, I’m not! Everywhere else in the world, maybe, but not in this house! Let me be a person here!”
Emotions were easy for Baird to dominate. He stared into her, control and superiority winning out over her youthful outburst. “I’ll ask you one more time because I underestimated how immature you are.” His voice grew dangerously low, and could barely be heard over Grettel’s whimpers. “Take…this…knife…out…now.”
“I hate you!” Blue screamed into the dawn.
And there it was. The worst thing she could ever say to the person she loved most in the world, and she’d yelled it like a child. Once the words were out, she was lost, all at once untied to her beacon of reason and strength. Her fists wrapped around her middle, trying to hold herself together.
One determined step at a time, Baird moved toward his sister, the hurtful words bouncing off of his well-hidden heart like a girlish slap on the wrist.
Elle was the only other rational one in the hut. She scooped up fresh clothes for her and Grettel, pulled up the petrified pixie and locked them both in the bathroom.
Baird wrapped his long fingers around her fist and led her to the front door. Molding her hand around the knife, they pulled the utensil out together. Just as the tip was freed, Baird surprised his sister by ramming it hard into the door, breaking through to the other side. Slamming her up against the wood, he pinned her neck with his forearm. Beneath the anger, he was glad that the fight went out of her and she did not struggle against him.
“I don’t care that you hate me. I don’t care what you want. Fact is, you are not a person.” Baird’s words seethed through clenched teeth. “You’re a weapon. The Vemreaux are going to use you to end the predator, and it will kill you. Seeing Griffin today won’t change that. Fighting me about it all won’t make your life longer.” His self-loathing peaked, but he kept his tone even. “Say it. Say, ‘I am not a person.’”
All traces of struggle left her eyes as the blue orbs dulled to duty. “I am not a person. I’m a weapon.”
The whispered mantra nearly broke him, but he held her firmly. “Again.”
She obeyed.
“Good girl. Now, can you handle walking the girls to the diner, opening it up and waiting on a table of Vemreaux until I get back?”
She mouthed her agreement, her soulless eyes staring vacantly ahead. Baird released his sister and exited the hut without hesitation. He knew that any weakness or kindness shown to her right now would not help build her into being the Light she would have to be. If there was any chance the prophecy could be beat, it would not be by coddling her. He would take all her hatred and tantrums if it meant she might return to him.
Each kilometer he passed on the freeway brought to mind a new way he’d failed her, or another reason he wished he could be anyone else. He’d seen the conviction in her eyes as she screamed at him.
The 4x4 vehicle pulled into the parking lot of The Way. The enormous facility loomed ahead, reminding Baird of a thousand things all at once as the scent of processed scratch hit him. His eyes swept the lot, noting three unfamiliar vehicles. Two were average commuter cars, but the third was an enlarged black SUV with tinted windows.
There were four check points Baird passed through, each earning him a stamp on his green visitor’s pass. He was ushered to the waiting room, which, thanks to the fact that not many Waywards in the real world knew if they had family or not, usually remained empty.
Baird was surprised when the sight of four men greeted him. Two rose up from their chairs at his entry and gave Baird a visual once-over, one of them sitting back down when he was satisfied that the newcomer did not present a threat to the man who sat with his head tilted back and sunglasses on.
The fourth man was lying on his back, stretched out across three chairs. He carried on the conversation as if there’d been no interruption. “I told Ever we’re stuck here till the end of Peace Week. All he had to do was pick up a paper to find out you’re here filling in for the emperor at the testing, Liam. He’s out of it.” His dark brown hair did what it pleased, not conforming to any sort of order.
Liam did not open his eyes behind the sunglasses. “Since when is he sober enough to be ‘in it’?”
“Since never. I told him to give Killian a call since we’re out of the country.”
Brody huffed. “Yeah, I can just see the two of them hanging out. I don’t care how he plays it, Killy doesn’t like Everest anymore. Now that Kill’s sober and doesn’t need Ever’s pharmacy, they have nothing in common.”
“Hey, if it’d get him off my continent by the time I get back, I’d be grateful.”
Liam groaned. “Could you stop it already? Killian deserves a holiday. I hope he does take Ever up on his offer. I’ll call him later and tell him so. He works too hard.”
Alec grumbled, “Got to compensate for you not working at all.”
Sam stretched out one of his legs. “I tell you what, I’m going to French kiss Josephine straight away when we get home. No one cooks like my girl.”
Liam moaned. “Stop lusting after my elderly housekeeper just because she keeps you in pot roast.” His face soured. “Bad visual.”
Sam chuckled. “Aw! You thinking about me naked again?”
When the waiting room door opened and Jack came out, Baird groaned inwardly. He took it as his payback for being so harsh with Blue.
“Ah, my favorite nephew!” exclaimed the Vemreaux Supervisor Baird most loathed. Baird noticed that Jack’s accent slipped into the u
nfamiliar cadence he often donned when he got too upset or forgot himself in a particularly cheerful moment.
Liam winced at Jack’s volume, but pulled on as genuine a smile as he could. “Hey, Uncle Jack. I see the Fountain’s been good to you.”
Jack grinned at the typical greeting. “When’s it your turn?” His eye caught the only ones that did not look happy at his arrival. “Oh, Baird. I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there. This is my nephew, Prince Liam Boniface.” He grabbed Liam’s shoulder with enthusiasm and introduced him to the one Wayward he’d never been able to win over with his charming smile. Jack recovered his Western inflection. “Baird’s one of our best, come back to visit his brother. I’ll see if Griffin’s in the holding room for you.”
“Uncle Jack, you sound like a Yank,” Liam teased.
Baird didn’t need the prince’s last name. He could tell by their accent that all four men would have the last name of Boniface. All Americans had the surname Anders, Europeans shared Boniface, and China had Cho. Sinclair was the only name that stood on its own, so the king and his family would not be given to favoritism by sharing a last name with a particular country’s people.
Liam tucked his sunglasses into his shirt pocket and stretched out his hand, smiling at the stranger. “Nice to meet you.”
“Sir,” Baird responded, grasping the prince’s proffered hand. The gesture was ordinary, but Baird’s intake of breath could not be masked. His own shockingly blue eyes stared back at him from Prince Liam’s smiling face. They were unworried, unhurried and kind. Baird had never seen his own eyes look like that before. Somewhere in the back of Baird’s mind, pieces of a puzzle began to surface. He instantly felt a surge of trust toward the man – which, of course, made him trust Liam even less on principle. He could not shake the feeling of significance as he released the prince’s grip.
The Way Page 10
