2. Face-Off
Face-Off
All the energy seemed to drain from Grayson’s body at Christian’s words. The look on his father’s face: loving, determined, kind, and brave. He wouldn’t leave. No matter what was said or who said it. He would stay as he had stayed for over two decades to keep Grayson safe.
I don’t need him to keep me safe!
But he had. There was a time–not too long ago in the scheme of things–when to have a father’s love and protection would have meant everything.
Grayson wanted to sink down onto the ground.
He wanted to feel Ryder’s arms around him, holding him tight, making this feeling go away.
He was strong now. Sort of. Loved now. Absolutely. Safe now. Yes and no.
Christian touched his arm. We should go someplace more private. Everyone’s been distracted by the ghosts, but they’re refocusing now. They can’t see the ghosts that follow you, but they’ll notice–
Me talking to the air? Yeah, yeah, I get it, Grayson said.
But once they were alone with these ghosts what then?
He could barely meet his father’s eyes. This man had sacrificed over twenty years of his afterlife to keep Grayson safe from his stepfather.
But what could a ghost really do to him?
But he knew they could do something. Something malevolent. Maybe his stepfather already had.
Before he’d come to the school and remembered himself, he’d lived a very small, narrow life.
It had hardly been a life at all. It had barely been an existence.
He wondered if his stepfather had been pleased all this time watching him suffer and be alone until now.
Now when Grayson was strong and had a family again.
He looked up right into his father’s eyes and he imagined that this man had stood beside him as he worked at the convenience stores all those nights.
Sat with him when he curled up in a ball on the streets, trying to keep warm, and out of predator’s clutches.
Crouched by the side of his bed while he slept or tried to.
His father had likely suffered seeing how awful his life had been.
And his stepfather had probably enjoyed that suffering, too.
His frustration now came from Grayson’s new circumstances.
All this time, I thought I had defeated him. But here he is. Still wishing me harm, Grayson thought.
But his father–and now Sam–had been there, too, wishing the best for him. That ought to count for more. But he’d never wanted good people to suffer for him. To sacrifice for him. For their king. For their people. Yes and yes. But for him personally? No.
Thank you for showing me this, Christian, Grayson said.
I’m not done yet, Christian said.
Grayson raked a hand through his hair and nodded. His shoulders slumped. He truly felt exhausted and a little chilled. His father looked alarmed and stepped back from him quickly.
No, you don’t need to move away! Grayson was surprised–and displeased–at the almost needy tone in his voice.
He is worried that his nearness is draining you. You don’t need another source of energy drain, Christian said.
He’s not… That’s not why I feel this way, Grayson said.
Christian waited a beat for him to elaborate on that, but he didn’t. Regardless, I know you need to rest, but we need to start this at least. Come this way. We have a space that’s out of sight of the others and the cameras, Christian said and gestured down a path between some of the stone blocks.
Grayson saw some flashes out of the corner of his eye and realized people were taking pictures of him. Christian let out an angry hiss and went rigid as he saw it too. His silver eyes were shining. Grayson quickly turned his head towards the flashing lights.
“Grayson Duke? You are Grayson Duke, aren’t you?” A woman with a short bob of black hair asked. She was sleek with a predatory smile and a black skirt suit that fitted her lithe frame. She was approaching him with a cameraman in tow. “I was hoping to speak to you.”
“Hey!” Rachel cried from the top of the platform. “We’re not allowed to interview the students without prior consent of Balthazar Ravenscroft, Melinda!”
“You were speaking to him, Rachel,” Melinda tossed over her shoulder airily
“Speaking isn’t interviewing!” Rachel was having trouble clamoring down from the platform in her heels though hers were more a kitten heel compared to the stilettos that Melinda wore and walked in with an easy grace despite the uneven terrain.
“You’re friends, right? So, of course, you weren’t really speaking to him for a story,” Melinda said with a sharp laugh at the end that showed she didn’t believe that for one minute.
She was in front of Grayson now with all smiles and sex appeal.
He recognized her from one of the cable nightly news programs. She covered court cases that were lurid or involved celebrities or, better yet, had both.
His stepfather’s mysterious death was right up her alley.
Who was he kidding? It was up every reporter’s alley.
He’d just been lucky not to be around any of them until now.
His father was glaring at her. He clearly thought she was bad news. Sam appeared anxious as he rubbed his hands in front of his face. Only his stepfather appeared curious and alert. That wasn’t a good sign.
She’s here because of him. While I don’t think he relishes the idea of people knowing that a kid killed him, to see me punished for it? Oh, he would love that, Grayson thought.
“You’ve been told the rules,” Christian’s voice was crisp. He stepped up beside Grayson. “Repeatedly. No interviews with students without prior authorization and approved questions.”
“Yes, but we’re going to write stories about him anyway, Christian. He might as well have a chance to speak for himself,” Melinda practically purred as she looked at Grayson. “Your Master Balthazar is making sure that whatever those stories are, they won’t be Grayson’s truth.”
“You don’t care about the truth,” Christian said crisply.
“Of course, I do!”
“I can read minds, remember?” Christian practically growled.
“You have a little show with Prince Julian, don’t you? Where you want to report the truth of Vampires? But in an entertaining–and family friendly–way. So surely you understand that no one watches if it's not interesting,” she said.
The “little” show probably had more viewers than even her primetime slot did. Christian and Julian were still recording it. They were following both their sets of parents’ determinations about whether to be turned or not as well as interesting Vampire lore and creatures.
“I am interested in your story, Grayson. I’d at least like for you to get the chance to tell it to an audience broader than a local television station,” Melinda said, which was a dig at Rachel’s job.
Grayson just regarded her steadily back. “What exactly would you want to talk to me about?”
“Must we play such games, Grayson? I may call you Grayson, can’t I? My name is Melinda. Melinda Carter,” she said smoothly. “Maybe you’ve seen my show?”
“I think you like games,” he replied dryly, ignoring the rest of what she said.
She gave him a rather wicked smile. She was beautiful.
And he imagined that some people might find her almost sharp coquettishness interesting.
And if this had been about something else than the people in front of him, he might have enjoyed it too.
Sparring with someone so odious and getting one up on them was a pleasure.
Balthazar likely loved running her through her paces and then yanking whatever prize she wanted right out of her grasping hands.
“I do, but I’m not playing them here. And I don’t think your life is a game,” she said, the smile leaving her face and soberness replacing it.
“Every student who has been chosen to come to the academy is under intense scrutiny. Your name was not on the original list. So when you turned up so unexpectedly… Well, we are all interested. And there was quite a bit to be interested in.”
The camera’s lights were blinding as it was leveled at him.
Grayson squinted and grimaced. The light was suddenly not in his face anymore.
The cameraman cried, “Hey! Let go of the camera, buddy! Oh… it’s you.
” Grayson blinked a moment before he could see who was causing that dread and obeisance to creep into the cameraman’s voice.
“Have you not gotten enough footage this evening, Ms. Carter?” Caemorn’s voice was silky and cold.
Melinda’s smile was back, but a little forced. “That was a spectacular display you put on, Lord Losus. I’m sure it will have people talking. Probably have the religious people’s heads exploding. That last bit was rather like the scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark. Fantastic, really.”
Caemorn regarded her unblinkingly. He said nothing. Melinda swallowed though she kept that smile plastered on. Rachel came up the other side, looking like a rabid terrier who wanted to take a bite out of Melinda’s backside. That almost had Grayson laughing with affection.
“Look, Lord Losus, Grayson and I were just speaking. If he didn’t want to be interviewed, the matter would have stopped right there.
But I just wanted him to know that the opportunity is there to tell his story.
Get his version of what happened the night his stepfather died out,” Melinda said, her smile becoming more rigid the longer Caemorn stared at her, but said nothing.
Realizing that she was beaten, she gritted out, “But you’re quite right that we have plenty of footage.
” Melinda gestured for the cameraman to follow after her.
She did toss over her shoulder, “Grayson, it really is important that we get your side of the story out there. Because it will be written with or without you.”