CHAPTER TWENTY #2
Lachlan is present like always. They meet in his office while it’s pouring rain. Lachlan likes November rain. It’s darker, somehow. Thicker droplets. Varrow City gets more than its share of torrential downpours, but Lachlan just thinks it’s nicer in November.
The old man looks miles better today than yesterday.
‘Is there anything specific you’d like for your birthday today, Julian?’
‘No thank you, sir,’ Jules answers respectfully.
Alistair frowns.
Lachlan isn’t prone to theorising without evidence, but he has strong suspicions about the fact that Jules donated a bag of blood, and today Alistair is pretty much glowing. Every time he learns something new, it sickens him.
‘I know the summer was a hard learning curve, but you understand it was necessary. That has passed now. You are much improved. The medics told me you didn’t even put up a fuss when having blood taken.
That’s a significant step in the right direction, son.
I’m offering almost anything. Tell me what you’d like, and I’ll have it brought here. ’
Lachlan listens, statuesque as always, wants to shake his head but won’t.
The old man will never understand that what Jules wants is life outside these walls.
Human interaction, fun, music, dancing, human connection and the freedom to cast his chaos where he likes without fear of punishment inflicted upon others.
That would be a great gift, but Alistair will never grant it.
‘I don’t want anything, father, but thank you. I have all I need.’
‘Need? Come now. What about…’ Alistair pauses, uncomfortable. He has to really think because he doesn’t know Jules. Your books? I’ll have them returned. Your supervised devices too. I could arrange to have Savannah brought here if you like for a month or so. She’s very pretty, isn’t she?’
Jules remains masterfully neutral.
‘Those are generous suggestions, father, but I’m perfectly happy, thank you.’
‘As you say, then. I’m sure your bodyguard will make a fuss of you later,’ Alistair intones, looks away, clearly unhappy. ‘Throw whatever kind of party you’d like for yourself when I am gone. Something out in the mud, perhaps. The party I threw for you means precious little, I suppose.’
‘It was a wonderful party, thank you.’
‘You can go.’ Jules gets up. Lachlan opens the door, dread curling within. He’s never seen Alistair like this. He’s usually far more unaffected. ‘Lachlan, stay behind.’
Lachlan is relieved that Jules gets to leave even though the boy looks at him like he’s debating staying anyway. Lachlan gives a forbidding shake of his head and closes the door once Jules is out of it.
He returns to the desk, standing.
‘Sit,’ Alistair says, crisply emphatic, the way one would speak to a dog. Lachlan sits where Jules did, the seat still warm. ‘I suppose you’re quite pleased with yourself, aren’t you?’
‘Sir?’
‘My children adore you. Jessamine would leave with you if she could. I imagine it wouldn’t take much for Jules to be similarly convinced.
All the household looks to you.’ The old man examines his nails.
‘It is a hard thing to see my own instructions play out precisely correct and feel angered by the result.’ He looks up at Lachlan, expression glacial.
‘I know very well what you think of me, Bodyguard. How you see me. How you feel about my children. I imagine part of you is even planning to free them at some point in the future.’
Lachlan’s heart trips like a boot on a wire. ‘No, sir, not at all.’
‘To be ground level,’ he sneers, gaze moving over Lachlan, ‘like you and Troy. Such insects you are, and yet I envy your narrow scope, your limited comprehension. How comforting it must be, living as one man with a mission. Do you imagine yourself heroic?’
‘Not at all, sir.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’ve killed too many people.’
‘You give me clever, bland answers and never really tell me anything. Do you not think, given the chance, I would like to perhaps be the one to spend time with them? That it hurts for me to see them look to you instead of me?’
‘It’s…’ Lachlan takes a slow breath, ‘what you ordered me to do, sir.’
‘Yes, I did. You have succeeded greatly and today I hate you for it. Hate is an acidic thing, and I do not typically entertain it but in this moment, I hate everything you are and you, being mine, will let me express that hatred however I want, won’t you, Lachlan?’
‘May I ask—?’
‘It will not involve the children.’
Lachlan nods, looks down. The walls are closing in. ‘Yes, sir.’
Alistair rises to stand, goes to his cabinet and takes out a knife.
Jewelled hilt, something old and antique, but still sharp.
‘Yes,’ he says, gripping the hilt and looking at Lachlan with oddly bright eyes, serpentine and cruel, ‘you will. Come here then, little toy soldier. Let’s see how strong you really are.’
?
‘You need a medic.’
‘Just finish up, it’s fine.’
Blaire patches him up, but she’s not a doctor, so she can’t do much more that pack gauze against the three shallow stab wounds that ladder up his side, each one carved with slow, determined precision.
Lachlan has been through Advanced Resistance Conditioning in RB, so he withstood the punishment pretty well, but he made sure not to hide his pain from the old man because that’s what he really wanted.
Lachlan gingerly dresses, wincing as he buttons his shirt.
‘For God’s sake, Lachlan,’ Blaire says, so angry she’s shaking. ‘Get to medical. Let them look at it. You could have internal bleeding!’
‘He made me show him where to put it to avoid that.’
Hand over her mouth, she shakes her head, tears spilling.
He’s never seen her cry before.
Surprised, he slows his motions.
‘Blaire,’ he says softly, ‘it’s OK.’
‘No, it’s not. None of this…’ She cuts herself off, looks away.
‘I know,’ he tells her. ‘When he leaves, I’ll go to medical.’
‘Promise me.’
‘I promise,’ he lies and for the first time, kisses the corner of her mouth but it’s only for a moment. All time must be stolen here.
Then she lets go and steps away.
‘I shall hold you to that, Lachlan Tanner.’
?
Sorrenko seeks out Lachlan an hour before the entourage is due to leave. They meet in Lachlan’s quarters while he’s downing the last of six painkillers. Mikhail Sorrenko being the man he is immediately notices something is off.
‘You are hurt?’
Lachlan shrugs. ‘Nah.’
Sorrenko zeroes in on the wounded area like he can see through the clothes but makes no further comment on it. ‘So, how is my boy?’
‘Vasily is adjusting well. He seems to like it here,’ Lachlan informs him, draining a glass of water. ‘Are you taking him with you today?’
‘That depends on you.’
‘Look, he’s a good kid, but I don’t know what you expect me to do with him. I don’t have the time to teach him anything significant. I’m stretched as it is.’
‘I know that. What can I do to help? What can I offer?’
‘Honestly?’
‘Always.’
‘Hiring from the outside is too difficult now. I need people I can trust with solid training and competent backgrounds, but I’d need them to be my people, not yours, and they would be yours, so,’ he sighs, ‘the answer is nothing.’
‘I can give you people.’
‘What did I just say?’
‘I know an excellent team, some of the best. You can thoroughly check and interview yourself. I know your hesitation,’ he adds, watching Lachlan levelly. ‘They can all take care of themselves, Danya in particular.’
Lachlan is considering it. ‘Maybe. Tell me why you want Vasily here. I don’t believe for a second that you can’t protect your own son.’
‘Not all threats come in bullets,’ Sorrenko says, oddly Lachlan so much of some deaths don’t draw blood that it’s uncanny. ‘And as I said, I must travel with Roman. Vasily would, at best, be bored out of his mind. He is happy here. I want that for him. You will take the team?’
‘I’ll vet them and see.’
Sorrenko smiles. ‘Good man.’
?
Lachlan, Blaire, Jules, Vasily and Mimi all see Alistair off with the others.
Mikhail hugs his son briskly and Roman speaks with his little brother for a minute before he leaves, cupping his cheek and winking.
Mimi is humming to herself, counting down in her head from two hundred like Lachlan told her because it helps for her to have something to look forward to and he knows roughly how long these goodbyes take.
Penhalyx seems to have calmed down from his tantrum earlier, gives Lachlan a pleasant smile goodbye and tells him to take a day off in the next week or so if he needs it, the condescending fucker. Jules frowns when his father says that, but Lachlan gives nothing away. The painkillers help.