The Seven (Fist of Light Series) (14 page)

Jeeves was never emotionless, and that alone put me on edge. Something was missing here, and it looked like no epiphanies would be forthcoming from my other half. He was hiding something, and I opened my mouth to voice accusations.

“Well, this has been a great chat and all,” Jeeves said, “But I really should be getting back to pining about the past, and you should be awake. Dream time is volatile,
obviously
, and you’ve been asleep much longer than you know.” With those parting words, Jeeves gave me a swift, hard slap to the face.

I convulsed upwards in the king-size bed where I had passed out and rubbed my still smarting jaw. Muttering under my breath about paybacks, my eyes began to drift across the room. There were expensive-looking red drapes covering the windows, and the persistent chirping of birds coupled with pervasive sunlight informed me that it was already the following morning. A heavily lacquered dresser sat in one corner of the room, and in the other was an old writing desk, darkened with age. The floor was marble, and my bare feet found it bitterly cold when they came to rest upon it. Having noticed without preamble that I was wearing only boxers and bandages, I set out to ferret out the salvation to my plight. The dresser was the likely remedy, and so I ambled toward it with a severe lack of any pain.

Odd, it seemed that the day’s rest had been rejuvenating. After rifling through the stocked dresser while tearing off my bandages, I was surprised to find that the bruises, cuts, and burns had all vanished from where they had previously taken up residence in my vision. It seemed that I had healed quickly, and was glad for that. Going anywhere covered in contusions, such as these would be sure to garner the attention of every person that happened to lay eyes on me. After removing the offending bandages from my skin, I donned a pair of black jeans and struggled into a black silk shirt.

Soon, I was opening the double doors that adjoined a grand hall set on the second floor of a magnificent mansion and confronted with a butler. At first glance, he seemed only that. Common sense almost kicked in too slow to refrain myself from reacting with brutal force when I realized exactly what it was. It was a ghoul, and a nasty one at that, even though it seemed more refined than some of his brethren. Truthfully, none of them were particularly easy on the eyes, from what the images Jeeves provided indicated. Long black claws that were suited for nothing but rending and tearing jutted out from the sleeves of a very expensive suit, and the feet were of a similar appearance, when I gawked down upon them. Its face and body was a parody of a man’s, as if a child had stretched and mangled its features into something hardly recognizable as human. Beady black eyes studied me silently as my face, no doubt, went through some highly entertaining visages.

I vaguely recalled that ghouls were a human subspecies that went horribly wrong, or horribly right, in someone’s perspective. The race of ghouls was first spawned from a select group of humans, altered magically into a hideous reproduction of their previous existence. They were meant to be eternally obedient to their master, reproduce at an atrocious rate, and have a propensity for being utterly ruthless. Pure and simple, ghouls were highly efficient killing machines. Solely carnivores, they preferred to feast upon the flesh of humans, when such fare was available. The dark magician that attempted to control such a violently primitive race was killed by his own creation, a rather fitting punishment for his deeds. On the other hand, the world was flooded with a new race, lurking in the shadows of every child’s nightmare and under all available bed spaces. This knowledge, I realized, was coming through a metaphorical phone line, the connection provided by the one and only, Jeeves.

Needle sharp teeth announced a raspy voice that was not meant for human speech. “Good morning, masterrr. I ssssssee you have recovered from yourrr orrrdeal. Very good, masterrr. Please, Pleassse, come thisss way, Masterrr wishes to sspeak with you.”

One clawed appendage indicated the spiral staircase, and I proceeded to follow the ghoul/butler to wherever it planned on leading me. The steps were constructed from a highly polished hardwood, and although they seemed old, they neither squeaked nor groaned under my weight during our descent. The ground level was straight out of a Hollywood movie. There were hand-painted hanging portraits adorning every available wall space, depicting various family members in their Sunday best. Enormous couches dominated the majority of the space, but were complemented by various furnishings arrayed around the room. Expensive rugs adorned much of the ground, no doubt accumulated through much time, effort, and a whole truckload of gold.

We proceeded outside, where I was, once again, dazzled by the riches that confronted me. A circular stone driveway surrounded a gigantic fountain, before it continued down to a state-of-the-art remote controlled electronic gate and security personnel. It was probable that many of those who made up the security team weren’t remotely close to the definition of human. Trees and shrubbery were artfully placed and maintained but also served to guard against any prying eyes outside the property. No one would be able to get the tiniest glimpse of the interior of the grounds without being noticed by the swiveling cameras mounted upon the tall metal fences or the personnel that patrolled them.

The vibrant scents and sounds of wildlife and flowers permeated my senses, which exuded from the gardens that surrounded the anterior portion of the estate. Having spotted my final destination denoted by a break in the scenery where Jas and his father were currently sparring, I redirected my course accordingly. Nearing them, I discerned that they both held slim rapiers, inelegantly decorated, but lethal in every aspect of their design.

Nearing the pitched battle, I began to seriously doubt that Jas’ dad was merely the owner of some clubs in downtown San Francisco, even ignoring the whole supernatural thing. This guy was a serious mover and shaker, and I had better be careful where I stepped. The two blades could scarcely be followed, they were moving so fast. Even my newly upgraded eyes were hardly a match for all the parries, slashes, and stabs that took place in the arena. Sweat streamed freely across both opponents’ bodies. They were intensely focused upon the task at hand, and it took some time before I they noticed me. The duel ended with exhausted sighs from both parties, rather than the dramatic flourish of swords one might expect in ostentatious swordplay.

As they wiped themselves down thoroughly with hand towels, I took the time to examine Jas’ father. He was a well-built and statured man, probably 6’2. His forearms were scarred and bulging from years of hard work. He had hardly an ounce of fat on him, and though his salt and pepper hair hinted at age, it was frustratingly difficult to identify how old he was. His handsome face was marred only by a scar across the right cheek. Sparkling blue eyes, full of mirth at the moment, seemed capable of any feat. This was a man who was accustomed to getting his way not because of the money in his bank account, but by strength of personality and prodigious will. I didn’t know how far the vein ran, but to be as successful as he was, one had to possess a vein of ruthlessness coupled with boundless determination.

A deep basso rumble announced the arrival of a voice upon the air. “Why, Caleb, it’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. Noah Franklin is the name, but you’re welcome to call me Noah. No formalities here, with family.” He eyed me, calculating.

My impression of the man was positive, right up to the point where I was reminded of the adoption that had occurred behind my back, the bastard. An unyielding ball of anger formed in the pit of my stomach. I never sought to be adopted, this man before me had done so, without even the courtesy of asking for my consent. Most likely, he would dangle some bribe as enticement in order to get into my good graces. Wait, he already did, in the guise of the Mustang, wherever she had gotten off to.

My voice wasn’t as calm and collected as bravado demanded when I responded. “You…” I paused, allowing the pregnant silence to stretch uncomfortably. “Just want to use me. A family doesn’t operate on those standards and if you think you can buy me then you’re going to see otherwise, pops. We better get that straight right now, or we’re going to have some problems, and your beautifully maintained gardens are going to be lesser for it.” I eyed the offending foliage meaningfully, driving home my point.

The belly laugh startled me as much as anything because I was preparing to put Jeeves in sword mode right then, whether or not he was still occupied daydreaming about his precious forests. Jas, in contrast, was busy looking startled. I was reasonably sure that he wasn’t used to people disrespecting his father so openly. His jaw hung open, and before his image was further ruined, he hastily righted it. His ice-blue eyes were the only things that further betrayed his shock; they stood wide with fear, or perhaps apprehension.

Noah’s blue eyes twinkled, underscoring merriment and high spirits. Whether this was from a slaughter to come, or something else, had yet to be revealed. “You, kid, have got guts. Others have been eviscerated for far more inconsequential acts of defiance. And on my own property, no less.” There was a pause, a play-mocking rendition of my own previous one, and it lingered upon the air for several seconds before being filled once more. “But I would expect nothing less from my own kin. You were not adopted for some extravagant manipulation, I assure you, and I expect this is the conclusion you will determine on your own, given time. The others of my Clan, they have their own plans for you, which vary significantly in each instance, and I’ll do my best to secure your position before they can further them. You were taken under my wing and protection partially for our mutual benefit, but also to protect you from the Clan’s far-reaching hand. I will garner more clout from the mere presence of one of The Seven, my support and status will be bolstered. I harbor no illusions, however, of controlling your actions. You are free to come and go as you please, no questions asked. However, on occasion, it would be courteous if you did involve me in the more dangerous altercations. I am not without influence, and can be a great asset, to be utilized in times of need.” Noah coughed, obviously uncomfortable with the whole ordeal. “You, in turn, will obviously garner the influence under my command, and the rights gained by being an affiliate of the Were Clan, of course.” He stumbled over that last bit, but the catch didn’t bother me. “I will explain that portion in further depth at a later time. You also get a roof over your head, a full belly, clothes to wear, deep pockets, and a family out of the deal.” He paused, apparently expecting applause or something of the sort. It wasn’t worthy of the response, and so I didn’t supply one.

I allowed him to terminate his speech peacefully and ran it through my mind a couple of times before offering a response. “So, this is all mine,” I spread my hands expansively, “and at only a 0.9% interest rate and a six month money-back guarantee?” The bullshit came spontaneously and without any effort on my part. It was my defense mechanism, and had just shifted into overdrive.

Noah sighed. “Kid, I’m not trying to put a bit in your mouth. Stop bucking at nonexistent reins. I was like you, once, an orphan out on the streets, left to fend for myself, and someone took me in, too. I’m really just paying my dues, and if a teensy bit more clout can be gleaned out of the deal, then who can blame me?” To emphasize his point, he held out thumb and pointer finger, spacing them an inch apart from each other. His whole demeanor said he was being just plain candid with me now.

I budged, if only a centimeter, surprising myself. “All right, say I buy all of it. Then what?”

He spread both his hands out in front of him. “Then… nothing. Except you get to live a life in the lap of luxury, in a family minus a mother that expects nothing in return that isn’t first given freely. In time, I think you will come to understand that.” A genuine smile flitted across Noah’s face before disappearing back into the folds of his sweat-streaked clothes.

When something seems too good to be true, it probably is. Or at least, that’s what I’d heard. I hadn’t actually had anything relatively pleasant enter into my life, and thus, no experience in the matter. Was this believable, that some old-toad Skin Walker got sentimental regarding someone who had provided a helping hand in his past, and was only reciprocating to a down-and-out kid who happens to be genetically challenged? I’d be stretching to say that was the only deciding factor in my adoption. Now, enhancing the extra spin with my potential power, then the equation might balance out,
might
being the operable word. “Speak softly and carry a big stick,” said Roosevelt. He sure had it right. No one was going to be using me for their own devices, and I was confident that if things went south, I could
probably
do something. That would have to be enough.

“Uh… All right I suppose. Though don’t think that I’ll be so easily manipulated, and that I can’t defend myself.” I glared.

That telling twinkle returned to Noah’s eye. “I would expect nothing less.” He gave the swords a meaningful, playful look. “Jas here had planned on taking you into the city today for a little R&R. Are you up for it? From what I’ve heard, you endured quite an ordeal at the hands of the Chosen Elite.”