CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE #3
‘Not of God,’ Madeline echoes devoutly. ‘Framing them as an extremist element is worth every penny that goes into it and doesn’t take much, not in this day and age.
The masses are starving for accessible blame.
Be on the hunt, be on the look, for somewhere close there’ll be a crook,’ she sing-songs, chuckling to herself.
‘Nothing distracts people from their own chemical slavery more than seeking witches to burn.’
‘And there are always witches to burn.’
‘It’s dangerous though, isn’t it? Making them aware?’
‘Class consciousness occurs every once every cycle,’ Prescott chimes in, conversational, ‘but that awareness is easily killed by major events, and sufficient hardship will force a reset.’
‘Major events are our speciality, aren’t they, brother mine?’
‘They always have been, sister dearest.’
Vale clears his throat.
‘If Sorrenko has gone rogue, there could be an opening with Alistair.’
‘And what? You think you’ll leap into the breach?
Don’t embarrass yourself, Dicky. You’re in the same boat as us.
No children, no viable way forward without the innovation of Helixx to counter host attrition.
The next ten years are critical. After that, it’s a hard reset or stasis, and so far, he’s unhappy with the prototypes. ’
‘What about Mikhail’s children then? Roman is too old but the little one, Vasily. He’s young enough to be—’
‘He is not your blood, and I wouldn’t underestimate Mikhail in that respect,’ Madeline cuts across sharply. ‘Whatever else, he’s protective of them. Until we can prove it’s him co-opting the Moroz Front, we should keep our distance.’
‘Besides, he already moved the boy in with the bodyguard.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Mikhail isn’t stupid, unlike you.’
‘Unnecessary. What is Alistair’s obsession with the bodyguard, anyway?’
‘It’s exactly what you imagine,’ Madeline chuckles meanly. ‘You know how he loves his toy soldiers. Here, take the rest. I need to line my stomach. Come, Pressy.’
They part ways.
Lachlan commits to memory what he heard that holds relevance, takes care to keep the important parts intact. His mind isn’t at its sharpest right now.
But he knows this.
Mikhail Sorrenko is under suspicion.
Roman is considered “too close” to Savannah.
Helixx is experimenting on Paranaturals and at least some of the attitude towards them is manufactured.
The mention of Vasily troubles him. Young enough for what?
These fucking people… he’d kill them all if he could.
But for now, there are more pressing matters.
?
It’s around one AM when they move the party to the beach, taking drinks and blankets. The adults strip off for a night swim.
Lachlan accompanies Jules, biting the inside of his cheek as hard as he can to stop himself from warning everyone to stay on the sand.
He swallows blood and holds his tongue.
The storm they were planning for earlier is nowhere to be seen.
No ozone in the air, no smack of metal on his tongue.
Alistair hangs back with Lachlan while everyone else, including all three young ones, rush out into the water.
He’s holding two glasses of champagne.
The moon above is round and bright.
‘You seem tired, Lachlan,’ the old man observes, watching as his friends wade out into the water like excited children. ‘Are you not sleeping well?’
‘I’m fine, sir.’
‘I hope you know me well enough to know I had no intention of letting him touch you,’ Alistair intones gently as if that’s a completely normal thing to say. ‘You understand what I was doing, yes?’
Lachlan stares out at the sea. He can’t remember if shark attacks are connected to the lunar phases or not.
He can’t remember a lot of things right now.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. I’m glad. We’re family. You are mine to protect from what I can.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Tell me, what do you make of Mikhail?’
Lachlan looks at him. ‘Beyond reproach, sir?’
Alistair smiles warmly. ‘Always.’
‘I don’t like how he looks at Julian.’
‘My son really is the architect of your orbit, isn’t he?’
‘I’m his bodyguard. That’s my job.’
‘Yes, it is. I apologise for not taking you more seriously yesterday.’
Lachlan frowns. ‘Sir?’
‘Your concerns about the security.’
‘Oh. It’s fine.’
‘I have known this island forever.’ Alistair’s gaze moves slowly across the shoreline.
‘It was home once, in its earliest form. One forgets that even the land we mark as home may still be walked upon by strangers. Nostalgia breeds complacency and ego nurtures it. I value your clarity of mind, even when it clashes with mine. Your way of thinking does not occur naturally to me,’ he admits, sounds almost vulnerable, ‘but I am grateful to you for all your efforts.’
‘Sir, may I ask a question?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Are these waters netted?’
‘In this quadrant, yes of course.’
‘The other quadrants?’
‘One cannot net an entire ocean,’ he says, smiling fondly at Lachlan the way Danya might, only he’s not Danya, he’s a fucking monster in human skin and Lachlan despises him. ‘You worry too much.’
Lachlan thinks he worries the exact amount needed to operate amid such stupidity but keeps that to himself. ‘Apologies, sir.’
‘Have a drink with me, Lachlan.’
That’s not a request so Lachlan forces a polite smile, takes one of the glasses and then holds it up so that Alistair may touch crystal to crystal.
‘To your health,’ the old man says.
Lachlan drains it, finding his first taste of champagne to be bitter but something he could drink more of if he had to.
Alistair wanders away while everyone else swims and splashes.
The kids stick mostly close to the shore, but the adults are far out. Even knowing there are nets, Lachlan watches for a fin, listens for a joyless scream.
Not long after, Jules, Roman and Savannah emerge from the ocean, dripping wet and laughing together.
Lachlan hands Savannah a towel before anyone else, respectfully looking the other way while all three dry off, Jules in his periphery like always.
Roman’s bad mood seems to have evaporated. He’s a little drunk, and excessively sweet. ‘No swim for you?’ he asks, breathlessly cheery.
‘Not by night,’ Lachlan says.
‘Coward,’ Jules mutters.
Savannah and Roman glance at him, surprised by the vitriol.
Lachlan remains unaffected. The champagne has at least softened the sharp edges of the bad feeling lodged deep in his bones. ‘Back inside now?’
‘You go wherever you like,’ Jules tells him, sitting on the sand and staring up at the moon. He grabs an open bottle of champagne, drinks right from the neck. ‘I’m fine out here.’
Lachlan is torn between wanting to escort Savannah safely to her room and needing to stay with Jules, especially on this wide-open beach.
Roman pats Lachlan’s shoulder. ‘I will take her. You stay.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Yeah, thanks, Ro,’ Jules drones sarcastically.
Roman gives Savannah a piggyback inside the mansion.
Lachlan waits until they’re alone to say, ‘It’s beneath you to be unkind.’
‘Yeah, well. You’d know.’
‘I was spinning out,’ he tells Jules. ‘I’m sorry for being mean.’
‘What about earlier? Before that?’
‘Your jealousy is annoying to me,’ Lachlan admits honestly, perhaps a little too honestly. The first and only time he’d had champagne, he didn’t realise it would hit this hard. ‘It’s so unnecessary.’