48
Tiv
Wednesday 30th September, Year 828
To my relief, a few of the group had managed to reach the meeting point. Xander and Ashley greeted me with guns raised but lowered them once they recognised my face. I scanned our provisional headquarters, trying to find familiarity in the ruin. Shelves, once filled with literature, now stood barren, pushed against the windows as crude barricades. Over the years, dirt had embedded itself into the once green carpet, staining it a dark, murky brown. The mezzanine that used to lead to the children's section was no longer there, instead, it lay as rubble at the end of the library, blocking the back exit to the once beautiful park. Every building we passed on the way to the library had a similar, sorry story. Everything had been destroyed. It was no wonder I did not recognise the place.
I stepped through the library's foyer doors and counted eight survivors from our original fifteen. The absence of Regan and Eddie was loud however I was relieved to spot Kale and Tala relatively unharmed. This relief was short-lived as Amelia ran, pretending to sob, into the arms of Tala. She began talking of “that stupid girl he loves” and all of the anger that had built over the previous hours snapped.
“Amelia, you will shut your bloody mouth,” I shrieked.
Every single person left stared open-mouthed at my outburst. After all, to everyone apart from Amelia, I was the laid-back, quieter brother. Marco was the one known for being loud and abrasive.
Speaking of the imbecile, he rushed to me, his eyes scanning me with concern sharpening his features. Lips turning into a grim line, he swore under his breath and signalled for a medical kit.
At least he had the sense to send the security detail back to Lambent—I didn't need them buzzing around me like mosquitoes.
I felt what little remained of my patience slipping. Without a word, I spun on my good heel, shoving Marco aside with more force than intended before closing the distance between us again in a long painful stride.
“What the hells was that?” My voice tore through the tense air.
“Let’s go somewhere private to talk.” Marco's eyes darted around the room, seeking an escape from prying eyes.
“Am I the only one you’ve lied to? Or have you taken us all for fools?” My volume escalated with each word.
This comment snagged his attention like a hook. Jaw clenching visibly, he grabbed my arm and urged me toward an empty room with a firm grip.
"Tiv, I have lied to nobody," he said calmly for the others to hear, though his strained jaw barely moved.
I shrugged off his grasp and hobbled toward the old staff room that reeked of mildew and neglect. The door groaned as it swung open, revealing chipped paint and peeling wallpaper inside. I stepped over scattered debris that crunched underfoot and waited for Marco to follow. When the delay stretched too long, I turned back to find him cornered by distrustful faces.
“You might as well tell all of us what you’ve been hiding,” Xander folded his arms over his chest.
“What lies have you told us, Marco?” Kale interrogated.
Marco tried to dispel their doubts with smooth assurances. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just family circumstances. Now go to your posts and keep a lookout. Those radicals may have followed him.”
“Why on earth should anyone here believe that?” Xander growled dangerously. “Try for honesty. You might actually win some followers.”
Their words collided in heated disarray until Marco caught my gaze, his silent plea for intervention cut through his simmering anger. Realisation snapped into place; these people respected me more than they did him.
“Xander, I will tell you anything you need to know. Do as he says,” I ordered.
With a nod that signalled reluctant compliance, Xander departed and the others dispersed after him. I reentered the staff room and Marco followed quickly, shutting the door behind him with unnecessary force. The facade of calm he wore earlier had vanished like mist; fury radiated from him in palpable waves. Yet for once, he did not provoke me; I was not backing down. Instead, I stood tall before him, secretly pleased I now had a height advantage.
“Answers now,” I demanded.
Marco settled on a chair, its wood worn and creaking under his weight
“Ask away,” he replied gravely.
“You did not tell me we were in Harroworth!” I hissed.
“Not really a question,” Marco returned flatly as he arched an unimpressed eyebrow.
“Answer me or I swear I will put your head through a wall,” I growled.
A small smirk flickered on Marco's face before dissolving into resignation. “Alright, you got me. I lied.”
“Well then tell me the truth!” I exploded. “Harroworth was not on our list of targets. We were not meant to be coming here. You brought me back here! I never wanted to come back here and you bloody knew that! What the hells is the matter with you?”
Marco's shoulders tensed, a ripple of conflict crossing his brow. “Listen, the only reason I didn’t tell anyone the truth was because I felt like it was my problem.” He paused, swallowing hard as if clearing his throat of thorns. “I dragged all of you into something I shouldn’t have done which was wrong, however, you must understand; I’m in a difficult position.”
“And what position might that be?” I spat.
“Well…” Hesitancy flickered across Marco's face as if he were about to tread across a minefield. “What I’m about to tell you will make you very angry. Just keep calm and let me finish before you go off and do anything you’ll regret, alright?”
My patience frayed to its final thread as my hands clenched into fists at my sides. “Stop the insufferable rambling and just tell me what you have to tell me!”
He drew in a breath so deep it threatened to steal all remaining oxygen from our decrepit sanctuary. A thousand guesses would not have led me to foresee his next words.
“Harroworth wasn’t on our hit list however I brought us to this particular little group because… well—Ben Jameson is the terrorist responsible for blowing up Mother’s car. He and his little group—your little girlfriend—killed our Mother,” he said in a hushed tone. “I did not tell you because I knew you wouldn’t believe me and you would run straight back to her.”
I reeled as if struck by an invisible blow; he was right. I did not believe him. Alayna wouldn’t do that. Her memory flickered in my mind—her joy, her laughter—it didn't fit with this distorted story. But the woman I saw tonight… The hatred on her face. She was a murderer.
“How do you know?” My voice hissed out through my scepticism.
“Father showed me CCTV footage from the harbour the day Mother died; Jameson and another man snuck in. There’s no footage of them near the car, yet I find it hard to believe he was simply hanging around Thruck on the day our Mother died.” I remained silent, taking in what he was saying and he continued, his voice turned to a whisper, “They were the ones who blew up her car. They are not revolutionaries. They’re terrorists, Tiv.”
There was a long silence before I could pick words from the whirring in my head. “They have always despised us.”
“Yes.”
“We were unprepared. We shouldn't be here,” I choked.
“If I had known they were so strong I would have never…. I-I just wanted to know what our Mother had done to deserve such a cruel death. But they had familiars, at least two. We killed one I think. But the old registers only mentioned three registered familiars in the entire city. We weren’t expecting them.”
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“Would you be on a register just to exist? Or would you avoid the people with the register?” I echoed Alayna’s words from a lifetime ago.
Marco pressed his lips into a hard line before he spoke again, “I think the entire Jameson family were involved in Mother’s murder. That was why Alayna’s Mother wanted our Father to go to their residence the night of Mother’s death; so that she could plant the seed of running away with him. I don’t think she ever intended to, just to use him to gain for her family. Julie knew that once our Mother was out of the way it would be easier to inject herself into Father’s life. They wanted our money.”
I tried not to believe a word he said. Despite this, I had never seen Marco ever show an emotion that didn’t resemble cocky, arrogance yet, there he sat, genuinely upset.
“How long have you known this?” I barked.
“Father told me before we left Lambent,” he trailed off. “He gave me their location and intelligence on their group.”
“You should have told me,” I whispered.
“I know. However I thought you would choose them over us again,” he muttered, looking at his hand in his lap.
My head spun and I staggered slightly.
“What the fu–have you been drinking?” Marco barked.
“I wish. Have you seen me?” I said, signalling to my leg and shoulder.
“Sit down, you moron,” Marco snapped, rushing out of the room.
Moments later he returned with Ashley and some heavy-duty first aid kits. They had the same bottles of Venenum which had been used to fix me up a few days earlier… I knew I was about to hurt. This time the bullet had been lodged in my leg and, even with Venenum as a painkiller, the pain was excruciating to extract it.
My anxiety had transformed the sofa into a slab of stone, my body contorted in discomfort. Insomnia plagued me, and my leg throbbed—the Venenum's magic fleeting. Though I was happy I could see out of both eyes again.
I’d been trying to keep my unrelenting thoughts out however it was impossible. Alayna had deceived me once again. Her acting skills were award-winning. I thought back to the first time she was close enough to me to touch. She’d stolen my car keys, enjoying the game of being able to control me. Earlier, her gasps and tremors had seemed etched in despair; now, they appeared etched in mendacity. Her brother had once had the audacity to apologise for my Mother’s death. He was a dead man. The whole family was poisonous.
Knowing sleep was pointless, I made my way from the room. Most of the group was still awake, chatting and playing cards, trying not to think about the fact we were seven people fewer than we were the night before because of the Jamesons.
Marco intercepted my path with zealous caution. “You absolutely must not walk about.” I continued forward until he grabbed my arm with jarring force. “I’ve spoken to Father. Unsurprisingly he’s furious our security detail had been sent away. He’s sending back-up. Three hundred soldiers will be here by Friday morning. However he wants us home now-”
I cut across him, “I’m actually surprised he didn’t simply leave us to die.”
Marco’s face hardened, “Why the hells did you even volunteer to come back here? Why are you helping him?”
“Me?” I snapped. “I’m here because you are.”
My brother’s angry visage dropped, realisation dawned on him. “Father told you I wanted to come here?”
“Yes.”
Marco kicked the chair closest to him away violently, causing several people around us to jump at the suddenness of his anger. He paced quickly, shouting expletive laced insults about the man we called Father.
Of course Marco hadn’t wanted to come to Vakoso. Father had told him I was going to force Marco’s hand, just as he had done me.
“It doesn't bloody matter,” Marco eventually snapped. “We’re arranging a ship. Not from Thruck.”
“No.”
“Tiv, you cannot stay here,” Marco insisted.
“Where is Xander?” I said curtly.
Marco frowned, “He’s guarding the front door.”
I limped through the library and found my way to him and Ashley. I dismissed her immediately. After she was out of earshot I began to talk.
“Marco said he used us and attacked Alayna’s group because they are terrorists that killed my Mother. What do you think?” I forced the words out, hoping they would carry away some of the weight that seemed to be crushing me.
Xander’s gaze wandered over the ruins around us. “So this is where you grew up. That makes sense.”
I rolled my eyes at his oddities. “Stop talking in riddles. What do you think of Marco’s accusations?”
Xander hesitated, “I think that could be true.”
“Could be?”
“Well, fact and fiction can sometimes be easily confused. I mean, if people believe what they are told, how can we know if they are truthful or not when they relay the information to someone else?” he asked as if he was talking to himself, not to me.
“What the hells are you talking about?” Frustration bit my words sharper than I intended.
“I think Marco believes what your Father has told him,” he clarified.
“You think my Father is lying?” I asked, my heart sinking somewhat.
He fixed me with a steady look. “From my limited interactions with him, I’ve found that nothing in that man’s head is ever what comes out of his mouth. He doesn’t see the world right. I think he’s schizophrenic. There’s always more than one voice up there.”
A heavy silence fell between us as his words sank in. My lips parted to question further but clamped shut as realisation struck me with forceful clarity. I knew why Xander always spoke in riddles. He always talked to himself and answered questions I never asked out loud. Xander had a different understanding of people than I did. Whenever he did reconnaissance, the details were always perfect. Like he’d picked them clean out of someone's head. Like magic. As I had the thought, his face dropped.
“Xander, are you a familiar?”
The question escaped me before caution could take hold. His muscles tensed visibly; eyes narrowing as he took a bracing breath that puffed out his chest.
“And if I was?” he growled.
“If you were then at least I could understand why you’re so peculiar,” I smiled, attempting to deflate his anger.
He relaxed slightly as I tried to pretend I wasn’t absolutely bloody terrified of what he could do to me. Jakori’s withered face swam to the forefront of my mind and Xander shuddered.
I braved bringing up Alayna once more if not to do nothing more than to distract the conversation. “Marco claims she is responsible for my Mother’s death and I have no idea what to think,” I continued cautiously.
I knew the last thing morons did was piss off witches.
His stance relaxed immediately, “Don’t call me a witch. I’m not an evil old lady in a story.”
For a moment I just stared at him. I had never met a familiar in Lambent. I idly wondered if Marco knew.
“Nobody knows. Only you. I trust you.”
“Why can you trust me?” I asked.
“Because, as you have already figured, I am able to read people better than the average person can. Familiars are barely tolerated in Vakoso. Even less in Lambent. Your mind is Vakosian. Marco’s is Lambentian.” I had no notion as to what that meant yet it sent alarm bells ringing.
“Mind control and mind reading is illegal…” While the law had softened to familiars over the years, there were some that were not permitted to exist, no matter what.
He scoffed, “Yes like we get any say in what intrinsic ability we get! Anyway, I can’t read minds but I can get a measure on how people think. I know for instance, your Harroworth girl? Her brother hates you, and I mean, wow, I’ve never felt hate like that. And I’ve been to a war much worse than this one before. He thinks you made his sister unwell or mad or something. He’s gunning to kill you both.”
I took in everything Xander said with wide eyes and a slack jaw. When I saw Ben in Thruck, I reminded myself I was a trained military man, so had nothing to worry about. If Ben was anything like the people I had faced today, my death was going to be slow and painful.
“Wait, you’ve been to war before? There hasn’t been any wars in decades,” I mumbled.
Xander hesitated, “I don’t die. Despite my exceedingly youthful appearance, I’m very old.”
He boomed a laugh at the expression on my face and closed my jaw for me.
“This is…”
“Yes, it’s mental,” Xander interrupted. “But use the wise familiar while you’ve got me: Marco lies, Tiv. He does it constantly to get what he wants. But on this occasion, I believe he was put up to this by your Father.”
“That’s why you’ve been so pissed at him since we got here—you knew he would bring us here?”
He simply nodded once.
“Why the hells didn’t you tell me?” I wondered.
“It’s not my business to dip into peoples heads and spread private information. I’ve lived over a century and it’s never once ended well.”
A century. I gawked and he used a finger to shut my jaw again, laughing.
“If you knew all of this, why did you follow him all this way?” I said, shaking myself as if to expel the confusion.
“He’s not a bad person. He came here with ulterior motives and to avenge your mother, but mostly to keep you out of harm's way—he failed spectacularly at that. Also, I couldn’t rightly let him take my only friends to Vakoso and get them all killed,” Xander explained casually, as if he was conversing about the weather. “But, really? I do love a good war. It’s been years.”
I shook my head again, unable to understand the influx of information.
“So my Father is lying about Mother’s death, Marco is lying about something you won’t tell me about and you’re itching to die?” I clarified.
“I did not say any of that. I said your Father lies which you’re already well aware of. I have no idea what happened to your Mother. But I saw into that giants head at Thruck Harbour then the Harbour blew up, so I would not put it past your girl’s brother.”
That despicable family was carrion. I ground my teeth together. It was enough for anger to run like fire through my veins and I began to walk away down the street. Xander stopped me immediately.
“See? This is why I don’t share thoughts,” he groaned.
I pulled my arm out of his grasp.
“You’ll regret it,” Xander muttered.
“Stop reading my mind and leave me alone,” I spat.
“I don’t read minds,” he called after me.
He did not pursue me as I walked down the dark, ruined street.
I knew my ultimate goal: to kill Ben Jameson. And I knew exactly how to get to him.