Volumes of the Vemreaux Complete Collection: A Dystopian Adventure Trilogy, page 11
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 unfamiliar 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.
“So, you used to work here? I thought it was sort of a lifetime commitment.” Liam spoke with a hinted meaning that Baird did not understand.
“No. I’m a Wayward. Bought for work at a diner a few years back, sir.”
“Oh.” Baird could tell that Liam was holding back his true feelings about the explanation. With features so similar to his own, Baird did not have a hard time reading the prince. He was impressed at the breezy grin that coasted over the hiccup. Liam continued, “I just thought because of your eyes that you were Vemreaux. Never seen a Wayward with Original Vemreaux eyes before.”
“No, sir. Your changed friends here can probably tell I’m A-blood.”
The more serious, alert guard nodded.
Liam clapped Baird on the shoulder. “None of that ‘sir’ business. We’re like, the same age probably.”
“Yes, your majesty,” Baird responded without blinking. He did not correct the man by informing him that he was only twenty-one, while the prince looked nearer to his thirties.
Liam exhaled, deflating at the impenetrable man. “Wow, they sure raise ’em right here, eh Alec?”
Alec nodded, but cracked a miniscule smile at Baird’s feigned submission.
“What do you think, Sam?” Liam asked the man who’d just hung up his phone.
“Nice and robotic. Just like we ordered,” Sam agreed.
“Do they have to make the lights this bright?” Liam rubbed his temples.
Baird moved over to the wall and turned off half the lights. “Robotic and able to operate light switches. Just like a real Vemreaux.”
Sam sized up the Wayward, and then sniggered. “I like you,” he declared.
“Glad to hear it,” Baird mumbled.
“Know of any good clubs around here? We hit Sit Seven and Headway, but I’m thinking something with less trance music and more local flavor for tonight.”
Alec glared at the man. “Sam.”
“What? He’s from around here. Good looking bloke. And Liam’s right, you could pass for Original Vemreaux if it weren’t for the smell. Have you tried cologne? Come on, Brody.” He turned his attention to the other guard. “You telling me that’s all you got in you?”
Brody shoved Sam. “You know I could’ve taken that Fem back to the hotel last night if I wasn’t on duty. And you blocked me with the concierge, jerk.”
“It’s okay to be impotent, Brode,” Sam kidded.
“Fifty bills says I land a hotter Fem than you at whatever club this Wayward picks for tonight,” challenged Brody.
“Deal.” Sam addressed Baird. “Alright, Wayward. Think. I need a club where the women appreciate men who can work with what little they’ve got. Give Brody a fighting chance.”
Alec shook his head at Liam. “I used to guard your father, you know. Wasn’t subjected to this kind of inane chatter. May need a flu shot to keep from vomiting.”
“Staying in Capital City?” Baird asked curtly.
“Of course.”
“Try Crowd. It’s on 147th and Freedom Way. I hear the Femreaux aren’t at all picky there. Wave your bills around, tell them you know a real, live celebrity. They’ll come crawling. Plus, country music. Not trance.”
Liam laughed. “Not country.”
“And no more clubs,” warned Alec. “I can’t take anymore non-music.”
Brody scratched his dirty blond hair. “Trance is music. Techno is music.”
Alec frowned. “No, music is music, and I miss it. Raise your hand if you don’t have a headache right now.” He was satisfied to see no hands go up. “Then we go to a normal place tonight. A place with chairs and a reasonable amount of exits to keep an eye on.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter what you all vote on, because I’ve got the keys, and I’m driving tonight.”
“What?” Sam protested, sitting up.
“You drive like a lunatic.”
“You drive like you’re carrying a baby in the back seat.”
“Not a baby, just a few grown-ass men who drink so much they almost throw up every time I turn a corner.” Alec tapped his phone and stared down Liam. “Your father’s team caught a few pictures online, and well, he’s asked for you to tone it down.”
“What for?” Liam whined. “It’s not me what’s next in line for the throne. Killian’s on the straight and narrow now. I’ve agreed to no such thing.”
“Father’s orders,” Alec sang, cracking a smile. “Chairs. Chairs and food. I’m tired of appetizers.” He turned to Baird. “You said you work at a diner? Do you serve pancakes?”
Baird nodded and pulled out the order pad in his pocket and a pen. He scribbled down the address of the diner and handed it to Alec. “Chairs, food, and a jukebox from the 1980s. Plenty of women with low standards for them, as well. I’m the bartender, so stop by and I’ll set you up with a few drinks. ‘Bout twenty minutes outside Capital City. Enough out of the way that you won’t be bothered by press following this one around.” He glanced toward Liam, whose shockingly blue eyes stared into his.
“Perfect. Thank you. Reservations for four at eight.”
“Yes,” Sam deadpanned. “Thanks for the PG fun.”
Baird rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to declass the joint.”
Liam shook his head, and then regretted the painful action. “Not tonight. Not tomorrow, either. I got interviews tonight with Emperor Anders. Then all day golf with Emperor Cho tomorrow. Gotta at least pretend to look over the Wayward profiles they’re gonna be testing.”
Alec raised an eyebrow. “Two whole nights to recover from a hangover? This is a sign you should slow down, old man.”
Liam snorted. “Look who’s talking. You’re like, a hundred or something.”
“Actual reason we can’t go to a real place tonight?” Alec asked.
“I’m meeting up with the redhead from that bar at some club tonight. I think it had fighting or fists in the name.”
Baird spoke up when no one filled in the blanks. “Fisticuffs.”
“Yeah. That one. Her tonight and that brunette tester. What’s her name? Anyway, she’s taking me out tomorrow night.” When Alec glowered at him, Liam shrugged innocently. “What? I’m adorable.” Then he ramped up his accent to the level of a caricature. “Plus, they love me accent here, mate.”
Alec rolled his eyes and turned to Baird. “Fine. Reservations for four at eight on Friday, then.”
“I’ll be sure to roll out the red carpet for your monkey.” Baird jerked his thumb in Liam’s direction.
Liam laughed loudly, and then winced. “Hey, you’re funny. Like I’m the monkey! I get it!” He grinned, happy to be in on the gag. “No one jokes about me like that to my face except this lot. Everyone’s always so proper around me. You made my morning, mate.”
He had not counted on being taken in by the prince’s charm, but despite himself, Baird cracked a smile.
Jack reentered the room, chasing the levity from Baird’s face. “Whoa,” Liam commented, still smiling. “This one does not like you, Uncle Jack.”
Jack did his best to keep a pleasant expression plastered in place. “Baird? Your brother’s waiting in Holding Room Two.”
Baird nodded to Liam as he moved toward the door.
Jack raised his hand to give him a paternal pat on the back, but Baird stopped to turn and glare at him, unleashing every bit of his most terrible intimidation on Jack. Jack’s hand froze, not daring to touch the man who so obviously did not wish it.
“Good to s-see you, Baird,” Jack said, his voice wavering under Baird’s strength.
Baird did not respond, but nodded respectfully to the other Alpha male in the room, Alec, and exited down the hallway.
It was the same amount of time he’d spent with Griffin on his previous visits, but this one felt immeasurably longer. Baird remained impassive as he endured his younger brother’s temper. Griffin was prone to fits. One of the many regrets Baird had in leaving The Way when he did was that he was not able to toughen the tantrums out of his brother.
Griffin’s left eye was swollen shut from a yard fight that he insisted “was nothing like his fault.” His good, cerulean eye leaked the occasional tear, which it always did when he got angry with Baird or Blue.
“You shouldn’ta taken her yet!” Griffin raged, revisiting his initial argument. He pounded his fist on the table with unnatural strength for a fifteen-year-old. “It’s driving me crazy to be stuck in here when I know any minute she could be discovered or figure out her calling. I mean, ‘end the tyranny’? What does that actually mean? What tyranny are the Vemreaux even suffering from? And then what? She goes out, kills whatever the Vemreaux are so afraid of, and dies? That’s a steaming pile of scratch, that is! And how can you stand for it? Don’t you care about us?”
This was the part where Griffin took a long enough breath in hopes that Baird would chime in a plea for his pardon. How he wished he didn’t need his brother’s approval.
Instead Baird chose silence, as it suited him well for most occasions.
“I’ve still got almost four years left in here before I can be purchased. Four years! You think my sister’s still gonna be alive when I get out?”
“I can’t help that, Griffin. And it’s closer to three years. You’ll be sixteen in a couple months.”
Griffin’s nostrils flared as he wiped at his wet cheeks. The tip of his peaked ear turned pink with anger. “Bring her with you next time! Bring her here so I can at least see her before she dies! I need to know you haven’t completely erased her. You with your lessons. She was funny when she left! She laughed a lot! How long till you groom that outta her? Bring her back here so I can make sure she’s still her! You owe me at least that much.”
I owe you? Baird argued silently. Of course, he said nothing, refusing to engage with a child in pointless arguments. Despite the fact that Griffin was the largest and most well-built Wayward in his year, and two years above him, Griffin would always be a child to the brother who raised him. Baird kept his face impassive and remained seated, arms crossed over his heart to make sure his brother’s tears did not make their way into it.
“Any message you want me to give to her?” Baird asked, loathing the way his brother looked at him, a mixture of hatred and hurt.
“Yeah. Tell her that her older brother’s an ass. A message,” Griffin scoffed. “Anything I want to tell her, you’d never repeat. I’d tell her that it’s not the same without her here. That I don’t want to be the only one of us in The Way. That we kept each other sane, and now I don’t have that! No one’s here to calm me down. No one’s out there to calm her down, either!”
“She’s fine. She’s got the girls.”
“Bring her with you next time, Baird!”
Baird stared at his brother, stony faced. “Alright. I’ll tell her you miss her.”
“You’re a terrible messenger. We both know you’ll tell her whatever’ll keep her under control. Your control.” Griffin swore to himself that when he grew to be as big as Baird, he would not be as cold. They looked so alike, just separated by a few years of experience. Griffin quieted, since his arguing was getting him nowhere. He swiped at his nose as he searched out any tells from his brother. “Is she happy?”
“Are any of us?” When this did not satisfy Griffin, Baird softened. “No. She’s not happy with me right now. She wanted to come see you, but it wouldn’t work with our job this time. She laughs a lot with the girls, who all miss you.”
