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 Posted: Fri Oct 28, 2016 12:02 pm
 The Final Lesson
Things could have gone better when Cesc and Laz go to find where Xiu's gone off to. *
Heartbeats. Heartbeats.
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Posted: Fri Oct 28, 2016 12:08 pm
Side B: Cesc and Igan
*
Cesc could not agree with Lazarus that the best course of action would be to split up--but he also couldn’t agree that Xiu should be the first person they went to save. Xiu was a Raevan with at least some combat training and knowledge of his situation; Hazeline was an innocent bystander, by everything Cesc could feel, that was now in out of her depths.
But Lazarus loved Xiu, and that much was obvious when the Valsaros dashed off to try to find an entry point into the mansion, leaving Cesc standing at the front. Cesc watched him leave with his ears upright and his lips parted, unsure of whether to call wait or good luck after him.
Hazeline was frightened…
He didn’t know her. He wasn’t able to feel anything but the broadest strokes of her fear. Rhedefre forced himself to concentrate on her, to block out the feeling of what was befalling Xiu (was that desperation?) Lazarus, stronger, Valsaros, with his own desperation on his side--he would take care of Xiu. Cesc had to trust that.
He went in the other direction, westward, around the side of the mansion. Hazeline was on the farthest corner, almost as far from Xiu’s location as possible. The mansion itself was well-manicured, the gardens clipped and weeded, the windows clear and washed. In any other circumstance, the place would have been enchanting, Cesc thought as he floated around a corner, looking into the darkened windows. From what he could see, all inside was still and polished, extravagant in its luxury.
What the hell did Estoc do? A teacher wouldn’t have this kind of wealth…
Cesc floated beneath a trellis of climbing roses, making his way to a pair of French doors fairly close to where he felt Hazeline. He jiggled the bronze handles--when they were locked, he cupped a hand around his eyes and peered inside.
Igan stood guard before the room that the human was kept in. It was a high room. Too high for someone of the mortal persuasion to jump out; unless of course they had a death wish. And this lady here seemed really keen on staying alive. Sucks to be her then because either way…
Sharp ears heard the sound of handles being jiggled. Then silence.
Master Estoc would never behave in such a manner. He’d used the card key and stomp confidently in. This was…something else.
The vampire grinned. Sentry duty was not going to be as dull as he had initially thought.
Sword at ready, the young vampire threw open a nearby window and leapt out. Of course there were the stairs but why waste time? Gravity was a great accelerator and would work to his advantage. For one, it had the element of surprise.
Landing lithely onto the well-manicured lawn, Igan immediately struck out. Because, if it wasn’t Master Estoc, he did not give a damn who they were.
Below, Cesc was still making out the furnishings (and trying to understand the layout) of the room where the French doors led. He heard a window opening above him and his ears tipped up.
And that was just about all the time for reaction he had. Cesc let out a cry of surprise when a--a something landed on the lawn beside him, and barely had the presence of mind to leap out of the way when a <******** blade sliced through the air. He gasped, and managed to push out a few strangled words.
“What-- what the hell?!” he stammered. Reaching out a hand as though trying to steady himself, he snapped off a beam of light that poured out from the upper windows as a makeshift weapon, holding it out to stave off further attacks.
That creature was fast. Igan had expected his sword to run red with the blood of this trespasser but it had evaded his attack. For an “it” it was. It was not human and in fact, it had a very deer like quality to it. Also it shared similar physical traits to that other pale creature Estoc had invited over.
Igan grinned when realization hit. So this was…
“Cesc,”
The vampire uttered the Stag’s name with evident delight. How wonderful it would be, Master and servant, both of them taking down these oddities. Together.
He would show Master Estoc that he is the better swordsman.
Lunging out with deadly precision, Igan’s attacks lacked no restraint when it came to killing intent. It was best to end a fight as soon as possible after all.
Well, whatever the hell this was seemed to know who he was. Cesc froze momentarily, sword out, when the being spoke his name. His blood, likewise, froze in his veins, and his heart began to pound to force it--too, for him--to move. In that moment of calm, Cesc saw in his opponent and his nasty smile a similar pallor and ease of movement to Estoc. A vampire, and most likely another student.
Estoc’s words echoed into Rhedefre’s mind as the vampire darted forward: You had the upper hand! Use it!
All the training they’d done, all Estoc’s pushing--in this creature, he’d found someone to truly listen, someone without mercy, someone without sentimentality that’d held Cesc and Xiu back. And boy, did Cesc suddenly, horribly, understand what Estoc had meant when he said it would hold them back.
Shoulders back. Proud chest. Show what you learned, kid.
Cesc’s blade sharpened, going from a stick to a true sword. He parried Igan’s lunge with a hiss, sliding his weapon down and to the right. He had one thing on his side, Cesc knew--and that was that he wasn’t pure swordsman. He’d also learned how to brawl.
With Igan’s sword down, Cesc lifted his left hand and punched the vampire in the face, a solid left hook to the jaw.
Igan staggered back from the blow and his eyes showing whites for merely an instant before the vampire recovered and did a semi roll on the garden’s soft turf. Spitting out a broken tooth, Igan grinned a bloodied grin at his opponent.
Isn’t this fun?his gaze seemed to say as they sized each other up. “I can see why my Master spoke highly of you,” said Igan by way of praise. “You have done right by him,”
“But it ends here,” continued the Vampire as he drew his sword up. Charging forward, the vampire made as if to attack the Sigel from the front but quickly altered his direction as they neared one another; preferring instead to strike from Cesc’s left. His unguarded side. In the semi-darkness, the vampire’s eyes gleamed.
Cesc’s kneejerk reaction at seeing his opponent reel was pure horror. He shook out his hand, his knuckles already raw from the pain of the blow, and slid backward, renewing his grip on his sword. Stop, he thought, stop--but no, he couldn’t afford sentimentality. This ******** was trying to kill him! Kill Xiu! Hazeline! Had he knocked any sense into him!?
“What did you do to Xiu? Why are you doing this to him and Hazeline?” Cesc demanded as the vampire pulled himself back up.
But he didn’t seem too keen on answering Cesc’s questions. The vampire struck again and Cesc pulled up his sword, wings flared, ready to parry. At the last second, the vampire changed direction, and Cesc’s wing splayed, curling over him and hardening. He yelped in pain as feathers scattered in all directions, but there was no time to focus on it. He twisted away from Igan, circling him like it was some sick dance, and elbowed the vampire hard in the back.
Why didn’t you stab him?! his brain shouted breathlessly.
He thrusted his sword forward accordingly, but Rhedefre knew by that point, Igan would be ready for it.
Igan hissed as he was shoved hard in the back. If the opponent was serious, this would have been the second time he died tonight. That was embarrassing.
Turning swiftly around, the vampire parried Cesc’s attack with little effort but found it hard to land a blow on the stag due to Cesc’s quick reflexes. Narrowing his eyes, the vampire leapt back as both he and the raevan eyed each other warily. He needed an opening. Just one would be enough…
“Xiu is in training,” said Igan flatly. “Hazeline would be the celebratory drink.
"You would have been next.”
There it was, in that brief instant when horror and realization dawned on Cesc, the vampire struck. Clashing swords with Cesc, Igan grabbed the raevan’s free arm to prevent a punch and head butted the raevan hard in the face.
This was-- this was absurd, Cesc thought, words jumbling in his head with the hurricane-gale force of his panic. Igan was not backing down, rethinking things, retreating. He was becoming more deadly by the second. And Cesc, Cesc realized: he didn't want to kill him. Cesc didn't even want to harm him! This wasn't who he was!
But it was becoming amply clear that Igan wasn't going to leave him much of a choice, other than to just lay down and die.
Hazeline… she was up there waiting to be a plaything for two sick-a** vampires if he and Xiu didn't--
--Cesc’s panic was too late. Igan darted forward and grabbed him and before Cesc could fully respond, smashed his head into the stag’s. Immediately, a crashing jolt of pain splintered up his nose and the hollows of his eyes, and Rhedefre let out a snap of a yell. ********! ********!!
Instinct took over. Immediately, there was an overwhelming sound of glass breaking, and all the light around them burst as though a bowling ball had gone through a window. Igan and Cesc, for a long moment, were in complete blinding blackness.
And out of that blackness, when the light regenerated, Cesc hit Igan as hard as he could with the butt of his sword, on the side of his head. This time, however, he didn't stop, continuing to lay into the vampire and strike him, trying to make the damn a*****e just pass the hell out!
The instant his head smashed into the stag’s face, the vampire felt triumphant. He had got a hit in! And it was a good hit too.
But the damned creature had some tricks up its sleeves too it would seem as in that instant, Igan’s world went black.
While the darkness did not bother him in the least (for there were many shades of black if one cared to look), it was the sudden loss of light in all of its totality that confused him. Igan was momentarily baffled. Master Estoc had not told him about this...this supernatural ability of these creature.
An inner, more superstitious and medieval part of the vampire cringed. What was this sorcery?
It was then that the blows came. One after the other; relentless and unforgiving. Igan found himself crouching to avoid the brunt of the attack and as the blows continued, something stirred in the vampire. A distant memory but as vivid as a dream.
He had been hit like this before. By his father, by his mother, by the village children. Everyone who could swing a punch had probably had their turn on him once before. Only Estoc had done otherwise. Even after he had been strung and left to die by those uncaring villagers…
Igan giggled. It had tones of madness in it. It resonated with the vampire’s view of life in a nutshell. Ain’t it a joke? After becoming a vampire, undergoing all that training; learning to read, write, dress…
And yet there were others who still thought it fit to hit him like a cur.
In a flash the vampire grabbed Cesc’s arm in a vice like grip as it came down to deliver its lashes. He would show this creature. He would gut it from throat to stomach. Make it regret ever thinking of hurting him.
A hidden dagger was brought forth and its blade flashed in the weak returning light. Igan’s eyes met Cesc and the vampire raised the dagger to deliver its blow.
Then dropped it and screeched.
“NONONONO!!”
Anguished cries filled the night as Igan screamed in despair. Master Estoc! He could not feel the Master’s presence any longer. The Master was...the Master was…
“DEAD!” screamed the vampire as he tore at his hair. “DAMN YOU!!”
And with the fading remnants of Estoc’s presence, the vampire remembered the Master’s instructions.
Sobbing pathetically, the vampire ignored the stag and broke through the mansion’s ornate glass door. He would respect the Master’s last wishes just as Estoc had shown him respect. He would do it.
That would teach the pale one to kill another’s Master.
That would show him what it was like to lose one’s precious Master.
Up there, just by the room in which the human was kept, were several boxes of explosives. How Estoc had procured them meant nothing to the distraught underling. All he knew was that either Master Estoc won or...nobody wins at all!
Grabbing the trigger, Igan detonated the incendiaries without a moment’s delay lest the stag would interfere with that too.
Cesc saw the dagger. In his adrenaline-fueled pummeling, he hoped--Lord, he prayed--that his murderous opponent would show some kind of sign of giving up, of requesting a mercy that it would be Rhedefre’s utter relief to give. But rather than knock sense or sobriety into his opponent, it seemed Cesc did worse. He saw the dagger, their eyes met, and Cesc looked at Igan with unrestrained wonder. How could this utter stranger to his eyes be so, so bent on killing him?
But then the facade broke. The vampire dropped the dagger and began to scream and suddenly Cesc felt a burst of grief, of horrible, unsolvable, tremendous, agonizing grief, from him. He reeled with the feeling as though he had been stabbed, gasping at the explosive suddenness of the feeling.
Explosive.
The vampire didn't pursue him, even though he could have had the upper hand. And Cesc’s staggered position, back half-turned, kept him from seeing the blast when it happened.
BOOM!
For a single half-second, the grief and the explosion were one in his confused mind--only in the next moment, there was horrible brightness in the night, and his hearing went into loud ringing, like alarm bells. Debris sailed through the air and so did Cesc, landing in a pool that was clean and pristine only seconds before. He went deep into the swirling water, his senses as confused and muddy as the waters, and splinters of wood and glass rained down on the water’s surface from above.
In another moment, Cesc broke water, gasping. He stared without comprehension at the huge gaping hole in the mansion’s facade, stunned. Was he alive? Was he unharmed? Was anything else waiting to smash down upon him from the sky? Ash and pieces of…house…were still fluttering down--there were beams of the house impaling some of the old trees in the manicured lawn, and the swan fountain was upended. What the ********? Cesc whipped his head around to look at the mess. What the <******** swam to the side of the pool and pulled himself up, coughing. His face, his nose, throbbed in pain. He could feel, now that he was wet, the warmth of the blood that was still oozing from his nose. His nerves were a mess of pain. Was anything broken? It didn't feel like it. But his shirt was ripped and he felt singed and raw, but adrenaline masked any true diagnosis of harm. What a crazy ********! What a crazy a*****e! Just to kill him?!
--No.
A sudden recollection forced its unwelcome way into Cesc’s mind. Not just to kill him. To kill who he was there to save.
Hazeline!
Cesc dove into the smoke and glowing darkness, squinting,coughing. “HAZELINE!” He bellowed. He tried desperately to find her signature in the mess of stimuli he was hardly processing as it was. Oh, oh, no… no… what were the chances she could have survived this blast?!
He could dimly see in the corridor some of the pieces, some of the explosives--some of them hadn't blown. Thank God! The whole house could have been nothing but a crater! Cesc had never felt so truly, deeply fortunate in his life as he did at this moment, bloodied and wet and disoriented, coughing smoke and eyes burning.
Like a sentry standing guard amongst the ruins, a portion of the collapsed building still stood despite all odds. If Cesc were to divert his attention towards said location, he would find that a part of the roof had caved in at an angle and beneath that unlikely space Hazeline could be found unconscious. Apart from some burns and bruises, the guardian seems to be in one piece.
It was like a computer rebooting. All his senses were slowly sifting through the information, discarding what was useless, filing what was necessary. Struggling through the smoke, his wings splayed to shield himself from further debris, he found it: Hazeline’s ‘scent’, that invisible thread that would lead him to her. She was alive!
He could not feel Xiu, he realized at that same moment--was the Sigel dead? Or had Lazarus simply found him? Cesc’s jaw set grimly. He had to believe that Lazarus had. That they were coming out of this mess as comparatively unscathed…
There were roof shingles among the embers and the roof itself cascading downward like a frozen tile wave. Cesc pushed aside a small portion and saw a human leg. White, with burns and lines of blood snaking down.
Immediately, his stomach turned. He pushed forward further.
The leg was attached to a hip. And a torso and a full body and head: two legs, two arms, a head and a chest and all ten fingers. Her hair smoked and her eyes were closed, her face tipped back and her throat exposed.
She was Hazeline. She was still frightened, unconscious as she was; Cesc could feel her struggle under the surface of consciousness, a cloud of confusion and despair.
She was a miracle.
There was no other word for it in that moment. Cesc gasped a dry sob, his hand over his mouth. She was not dead. She was injured, yes, but not gravely--not horribly--not in a way that would follow her forever, not physically. He gathered her gently in his arms, pulling her from the chair that had so recently been her prison. The smoke--he needed to get her out of the smoke and the danger and this godawful house!
Gingerly, he made his way through the rest of the obstacles that had lately been a sitting room, out the blasted windows and to the gates where he’d left his groceries (groceries! How normal had everything been two hours ago?). Setting Hazeline down, he checked her pulse, watched her breathing. He stood stock still for a moment, merely watching, his breath held.
Then he fished his phone out of the plastic bag still reposing by the gate and called 911. He watched the smoke rise, a lump in his throat. He gave their address. Gave his name. Said the word ‘bomb.’ Said the word ‘hurry.’ Then he hung up and sank slowly to the ground, his fingers shaking as he lowered the phone.
Now what? To wait with Hazeline or to find Xiu? He hated to leave her there alone. She had been so frightened, so alone… who knows what they had done to her? Said or threatened or lorded over her? To wake up alone in the front lawn with a burning house before her… How had she even survived?
But, Xiu…
Cesc stared at the eastern portion of the house in indecision.
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Posted: Fri Oct 28, 2016 12:09 pm
The Final Lesson: End
Help comes for Cesc, Laz, Xiu and Hazeline. *
Oh. Oh, no.
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Posted: Fri Oct 28, 2016 12:12 pm
 Another Detective
He swallowed hard over a lump in his throat. The night was warm, but not warm enough for him to feel sweat form, sickly-slick, on his temples. Rhedefre pressed his hands to his face.
Xiu… Xiu… he couldn’t have… he wouldn’t have…
Cesc sat shakily on the curb, putting his hands to his face. It didn’t seem possible. That Xiu could have… have…
He forced himself to think the word.
Killed.
Xiu killed Professor Estoc.
Bile rose in his throat, and Cesc turned and dry-heaved into the bushes, one hand on his stomach and the other gripping his shirt collar. He waited for the swell of nausea to die down, and forced himself to breathe, breathe, breathe, through shakiness. He was okay. He was alright.
Xiu hadn’t had a choice, right? He couldn’t have had a choice. He was being held against his will, had Hazeline held against her will. He’d felt that. Heard the murderous vampire threaten her before he tried to carry out the intent.
He put one hand to his face. He felt hot, but his skin was clammy.
With shaking fingers, he found a contact on his phone and pressed call.
“Hello?”
The voice on the other end was rumpled with sleep. Guilt turned in Cesc’s heart: he hadn’t even thought of the time.
“Azucar?” His own voice was rough but small.
“Cesc?” A sharpness came into Azucar’s voice. “Cesc, are you alright?”
Tears burned the back of Cesc’s eyes. He could vividly see Xiu in front of him now, his eyes closed, his back burned, his wings gone.
“No,” Cesc said, shakily. The words didn’t want to seem to come from him. They were still deep in his belly, and they hadn’t come out when he’d heaved before. He closed his eyes tightly.
“What’s happened?”
Rhedefre held onto Azucar’s voice like a lifeline. He spoke in broken words, trying to get them to function together, trying to string together a sentence that made no sense to him. “I—I think—I think our professor—he tried to—“
“Did he do anything to you?” Azucar’s voice was hard. “Wait. Are you safe? Are you with someone? I will come to you.”
“I can go to the precinct,” said Cesc. “I’m safe now.”
“I will be there in fifteen minutes. Do you want me to stay on the line? You don’t have to speak. Just keep me on the line.”
--
Cesc went into the police station with half comprehension of what he was doing. His nose still hurt, his hair still smelled vaguely of smoke, and the hollows of his eyes were throbbing with pain. They were darkening and Rhedefre knew it, knew it from the double-takes and the gazes of policemen that he recognized and that recognized him.
The light was yellow and the floor’s ugly tile had not changed since the last time he was in this precinct, and that memory—all of his family and what was left of their circus sitting in a line, waiting to give their evidence—made his fingers cold and his ears p***k up with panic. It was that self-same feeling, that smallness and tenseness, that gripped him now.
He could hear everything on his phone line: Azucar getting his keys, Perp barking, the sound of a car door opening, closing, the hum of the engine. He listened to it as he floated to the precinct, listened to it as he sat down on a bench. He didn’t know why it made him feel safer. Didn’t know why it kept him from feeling so totally alone.
But it did.
“You can hang up now,” said Azucar gently from beside him, and Cesc started to turn and look at his friend. Azucar looked even younger than usual in this state, his mouth still half-turned in a smile that faded instantly as he saw Cesc’s bloodied face.
“Come to my desk,” said the detective, and Cesc nodded, following quietly, pocketing his phone.
Azucar said nothing until they were seated and Cesc had a cup of water in front of him. Azucar’s sparse, comfortless desk was both so like and unlike the man, Cesc thought distantly—none of his personality of a man who conceded to being called Sugar, but nothing revealing about a man whom Rhedefre suddenly realized had never actually told him his real name.
“Who beat you?” Azucar said, calm, even. He looked at Cesc with reassuring steadiness. “Start at the beginning.”
Cesc’s shoulders sloped. He drew in a breath. “I told… I told you about our professor?”
“You did.”
“After our… our fight, he told Xiu he wanted to give him private lessons. Told him to come to his house.” Cesc frowned, swallowed, looked at the plastic cup of water. “I don't know how long he was there. A day or two? But I got a call from Xiu’s boyfriend, Lazarus, asking if I could help find him. Said Xiu’s guardian was gone, too. And Xiu wasn’t picking up his phone. So I… I helped out.”
Azucar inhaled there, as though he was about to speak, and Cesc’s eyes snapped up to the detective. Azucar did not look at him, instead writing something on a pad. The stag pulled in his bottom lip and nodded.
“I should have called you. I’m sorry. I should have…”
“Cesc, do not apologize,” murmured Azucar. “Go on.”
“…We went to the mansion. I went around back to see if anyone was there.” Cesc hesitated: was that trespassing? Was the vampire who attacked him technically within his rights? “A man came out and attacked me. Told me he wanted to kill Professor Estoc’s other student. That they’d taken Xiu’s guardian and were going to kill her—drink her, he said—“
He paused again, putting a hand to his face. He was beginning to feel dizzy again. “I—I fought him, I guess? Not that well. You can see that. I was just freaked out. I’ve never—never had anyone want to kill me, not like that, not—“
“Hey.” Azucar’s voice broke through. “Cesc, it’s alright. Where is he? Where is he now?”
A strange urge to laugh came over Cesc. “He’s dead.”
He looked up, and Azucar was very still, his face like a stone.
“He—he went into the house when it looked like I might have a ch-chance to knock him out, you know, disarm him, make him stop. Then the next thing I know, the place explodes! The mansion explodes!” The urge to laugh grew until Cesc’s shoulders began to shake. “******** explodes! He blew it up. Blew himself up. I thought everyone was dead—I got thrown into the pool. I gave my account to the firemen who came. But I don’t know how, magic, Xiu, something—Xiu’s guardian was behind a beam that protected her. All the explosives didn’t go off, I don’t know. But she was okay.”
“And Xiu? Lazarus?”
Cesc pulled back a weak giggle. “Oh.” His voice was watery, thin. “Oh…” He shook his head. “They were okay. Not okay. Xiu is in the hospital. That side of the house… it didn’t blow. But the Professor…He threatened Xiu to the point where I think—” He paused at the precipice of the words.
He looked at Azucar, at his stone-set face, at the straightness of his back, the pen in his hand. It was all wrong. Rhedefre felt something unwinding within him. That wasn’t the guy—his friend—the one with Perp, who took his coffee black, who gave him good, sound advice when he needed it. This was a detective whose name Cesc did not know, and that was a fact as unbearable as the knowledge that Xiu had killed a man.
“I—I need another detective,” Cesc gasped.
For a long second, Azucar looked at Rhedefre with steadiness, the yellow-green of his eyes impenetrable, indecipherable, like reading through amber.
But then the stone broke. Azucar frowned, inclined his head.
“I can’t tell you,” begged Cesc. “I can’t put you on the case. Please.”
The detective put down his pen. His shoulders relaxed. He smiled, very gently.
“You are making me call Neele,” Azucar said at last, relenting. “And he hates being woken up this early in the morning.”
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Posted: Sat Oct 29, 2016 7:24 pm
PRP Check Up: Two for the Price of One
Cesc and Xiu get looked at for their various injuries from the night before. *
Cesc: Hey, buddy... How's it feel to lose 50 pounds in a night?
Xiu: ...;;;;
Xiu: Painful
Cesc:*leans back* I'm so sorry, Xiu.
Xiu: N-No, it was a good one ^^;;;
Cesc: What do you mean?
Xiu: Dieters would be jealous of my accomplishments. *Laughs*
Cesc: *laughs* ... that's true.* pauses* Are you okay? *quietly* ... Lazarus... told me.
Xiu: ... Y-Yeah...I will live
Cesc: ... yeah. *half-smiles* I'm glad of that. But Xiu... I'm sorry. I told the police what happened last night. The fire and the explosion... they were going to find out either way. We have to face the consequences of our actions.
Xiu: *closes his eyes* That would be the lawfully right thing to do
Cesc: *softly* ... I know he pushed you into it. You never would have...
Xiu: He was about to attack Lazarus from the back...
Cesc: *shakes his head, pale* He always did tell us to fight dirty.
Xiu: ... He spat in my face before stabbing me...
Xiu: Lazarus came to my aid then.
Cesc: *quietly* I'm glad he was there for you, Xiu.
Xiu: ... When will the police come?
Cesc: *rubs the bill of his ball cap* I gave my statement last night. I told them you're in pretty bad shape. The detective's name is Neele--he'll be in touch with the Lab soon to talk to you. Don't worry... he just needs your statement for now.
Xiu: Alright.
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Posted: Sun Oct 30, 2016 10:47 am
The Forest Preserve Dealing well with being cooped up in a sickbed was not Rhedefre’s forte. It was a few days of pain, a few days of feeling like someone had taken his head off and unscrewed it back imperfectly, like the bearings between his ears were loose and tinking against each other.
“I’m not soft,” he complained when Vivi took him off his first morning shift. “I can still get things done.”
“You will get sleep done,” she countered. “Perhaps you will make up for some of that which you lost this spring, ah?”
He couldn’t argue with that. At least, not while the room was still tilted off-axis and every movement made him feel like his brain was sloshing about in too much room inside his skull.
Rhedefre didn’t want to be alone. Not with the knowledge of what Xiu had done, or with the fear that he had gone to the police both too late and too soon. In the silence, he would fret inside that too-roomy skull: about Xiu and his fate, about his own standing with the law and Azucar.
He wanted to be in the bakery. To see if the detective still came in, bright and early, for a black coffee and a croissant.
The second day, Vivi still took him off his shift, but Rhedefre felt like the apartment was getting smaller by the second. To stay in bed was to be mummified there, to be shrink-wrapped in the sheets. No—he couldn’t take another day of it.
He pulled a shirt over his head, a ball cap to take some notice away from his shiner, and went for a walk.
The boardwalk was still full of summer tourists, too many eyes for Cesc to feel comfortable with. He took the ferry in to Barton, gripping the handrails with white knuckles and looking out, trying to bid his brain to keep steady in the face of the ocean’s swells. By the time they landed, he felt green and ill, but his determination, at least, had not faltered.
He took residential roads and flew inland, into the thick of the park and then deeper, deeper into the trees.
This was a place Luka would take him now and then. A place where his fel brother said the forest was alive—alive with magic, with wildness, with an unmatched primal, natural beauty and peace.
Cesc floated through the trees slowly, his hand on the bark.
Luka told him once he could communicate with all things untamed. The trees must have wisdom of centuries, Cesc thought as he went, his fingers stinging from the roughness of the texture. They could give him perspective. Take him out of his head. Tell him good, solid advice.
Advice Azucar usually gave him. <********.
Had he ruined that? Had he ruined their friendship? Why hadn’t he called when he suspected something was wrong with Xiu? Azucar could have helped. Could have de-escalated the situation. Maybe then Estoc would have faced justice by the law, not by…
Rhedefre shook his head, wincing at the feeling. No use in wanting to change the past. Unprofitable thoughts.
He drew in a breath and stood in the shadow of the trees. Home felt so far away, so blissfully far away. His problems, his comforts. All the mess the year had been.
He didn't want to think about Xiu, or Estoc, or Azucar, or even Vivi or Shepard or the bakery. He didn't want to think about his life at home.
Well, he didn't have to. He wasn't at home, and he didn't have to. It would all wait for him to come back, anyway.
He inhaled slowly.
The National Forest Preserve at Barton-Gambino. It felt like its own city. Luka had said once it basically was.
Cesc was a stag. He should feel at home here, shouldn’t he? Welcomed here.
Maybe the soft sounds of distant birds, of rustling leaves, of bugs buzzing—maybe that was a welcome.
So many people he knew would fit right in here, under the dappled shade and the columns of trees. Lorin, for one. Cesc smiled gently at the thought of the young frei discovering the grove. So many plants! So like and unlike Mama’s garden! He liked frogs, didn’t he? Cesc was sure there were frogs here, plenty of them.
Or Eden. Eden, fresh-faced and all youthful beauty and curiosity. Here were wildflowers for her. A purple bloom snaking up through a cracked stump, claiming it as a throne. Here was something for her, indeed. Wouldn’t she delight in this wilderness, too?
Something stirred in his memory. A poem Granny’d made him read. It tugged at him, thinking of Eden:
” You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
They called me the hyacinth girl.” Cesc murmured. The couplet made him smile: she could be the hyacinth girl, if she wished, couldn’t she?
Or Amity. The bark-bat, who delighted in action and climbing and soaring views and reckless flying.
Young friends.
The fresh air and the view helped him. The breeze dried out the stickiness in his head. It did feel like home in some ways here, didn’t it? It gave a feeling of pleasantness, of freedom. Like he could stretch his wings and fly without limit, and still be surrounded by the pleasant shade of trees in every direction.
A twig cracked behind him, and Cesc’s ears swiveled toward the sound. Startled from his reverie, he turned, and saw a flash of white.
“Hello?”
He frowned, turning in a full circle, waiting for response.
Nothing.
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Posted: Thu Nov 03, 2016 10:37 pm
Another Detective: II Cesc sat in the precinct, his head aching. His shiner was starting to disperse its dark color, getting green on the edges and reddish-purple where it was darkest. He had been in to see Neele, to clarify some details of his statement, and to give background about his and Xiu’s relationship with Estoc. It was awkward, to say the least: Xiu has a sword that he wanted to connect with, so…
He sat with his ball cap in his hands, rolling the bill gently. His head was starting to ache less. He was feeling less confused, less seasick. Lights no longer had that strange, niggling blinding quality that made Rhedefre wonder how he’d never noticed them before, how nobody ever noticed them before. It felt good to be able to turn his head without wanting to lose his lunch.
Rhedefre inhaled. He was done speaking with Neele. Why was he still sitting in the precinct? He could go home, call a friend, do… something else. Something that didn’t involve sitting like a lost child on this ancient wooden bench with the bizarre stains on it. What even stained wood like that? Ugh.
He stood, putting his ball cap back on.
No, he thought, hesitating. Not yet. He’d wait five minutes more.
This was stupid. There was no way of knowing whether Azucar’s shift was even now, or if he was going to work a graveyard or—or whatever. And besides, what did he have to say to him?
This is ridiculous, he thought to himself, starting toward the door. Ridiculous.
He pushed out into the air, giving the receptionist a tight-lipped smile. In the summer sun and heat, his head began to ache again, and not for the first time, Cesc wished he could wear sunglasses. Even with the hat, the sun was snaking into his vision, and he held up a hand to shield himself and sighed. He looked up and down the street, studying the figures coming out of shops and up from the metro stop.
I just want to say that I’m sorry, Cesc thought irritably. Why couldn’t the fates make it easy on him to do that much?
What are you sorry for? he wondered to himself as he began down the street, consciously untensing his shoulders. For getting into s**t again?
I should’ve called him, he chastised himself. At the mansion. I should’ve called him. I should’ve called for help before, not after.
Was that it? Cesc wondered. Was that it? He was frustrated he couldn’t de-escalate the situation by himself. That he’d been attacked. That they’d ******** it up, when he could have…
… no, it was more than that.
Cesc waited at the bus stop, watching the lights change, watching the stream of cars as they rolled past. He had gotten so much done in the past few years. Since he was a terrified Frei hoping that Azucar could help them, worrying that the law would break his family apart. He was better now. Stronger, smarter.
So why was he in the same position again? He didn’t want to be some ******** that kept showing up at Azucar’s precinct, quietly hoping for and against the law’s help.
Raevans, Cesc thought, were ridiculous. How did so much absolute bonkers, batshit insane bullshit happen to them? Was it in their nature? Abominations, unnatural creatures—did they just attract terrible luck? Or was it the magic that made them, dark as it had to be…
The jungle. Lazarus’ wings. Xiu’s voice. Melisande’s grief and secrecy. Zurine’s summers. Alex’s amnesia.
There seemed to be no avoiding trouble.
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Posted: Sat Nov 05, 2016 4:16 pm
Another Detective: III Bright and early the next morning, Azucar came into the bakery. Perp padded silently in behind him, sniffing the air and the foot of a table beside him. Cesc was cleaning a table as the man entered, and as he recognized the detective, straightened abruptly, as though he’d been caught redhanded doing something unsavory.
“At ease, at ease,” laughed Azucar, holding up one hand. “I am not here officially.”
Cesc laughed, a strained sound. He did not relax. “I—I’m sorry, I know.”
“How have things been going?” asked the detective, tapping under his own right eye. “Has that been healing alright?”
The stag shrugged and tried a smile, but it felt too tight to stay on his lips. “Alright sounds like a good word, yeah.”
Azucar laughed. “They are not fun to get. And your nose, is it broken?” He, on the other hand, seemed genuinely at ease, dressed in an athletic tee and flip-flops, Perp's leash loose around his wrist. Watching him, his slow movements and his ease, hypnotized Cesc into loosening his shoulders, letting some of the grip on his tension go.
“Nope,” said Cesc, touching the bridge of his nose gingerly. “Just got roughed up a little is all. I should be right as rain in a little bit.”
Azucar nodded, and for a long moment, a silence reigned. Cesc looked down, unsure.
“C…can I get you a coffee?” he ventured.
Azucar smiled. “Certainly. I do not say no to your coffee.”
Another pause, this one mitigated by the sounds of Cesc letting himself around the counter and taking out a mug.
“The receptionist told me you waited for me the other day,” prompted Azucar. “After you’d seen Neele.”
Cesc nodded, silent, taking out the pot he’d set to brew and filling Azucar’s mug. “I did,” he admitted.
This time Azucar did not prompt. He waited, his eyes studying Cesc’s face, patient.
Cesc slid the mug over to the detective, his eyes lowered to it. He addressed it instead of Azucar.
“I know you have to be pretty disappointed in me,” he said, his words broken by hesitation. “I-- should have called you. There was a lot that… I don’t know. It could’ve been avoided if I hadn’t done what I did.”
The detective nodded slowly. “That’s possible,” he said at length. “It’s also possible our involvement would have led to your own death, or your friends’.” He shrugged. “We don’t know. We weren’t there.”
Cesc lifted his eyes, his brow furrowed.
“I’m not—“ Azucar began again quickly, ready to cut the stag’s rejoinder off before it could begin. “I’m not going to pretend I have been overjoyed. I would prefer to have the police try to rescue someone rather than you. But, my friend, it is out of concern for you, not disappointment.”
He chose his next words carefully. “Did you…feel uncomfortable with calling me? Or did you not, perhaps, even consider it?”
Cesc wet his lips and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he mulled his reply. “I did think of it,” he said. “I just…I thought I would have the time to call you if things looked dangerous. I didn’t expect to…” He motioned to his black eye. “That.”
Azucar smiled his slow smile. “If a murderer always announced himself, it would be a much easier job for me.”
“Yeah…” Cesc put a hand to his face. “Still. I’m sorry.”
“Well,” Azucar said, lifting his shoulders. “Me, too. The next friend you have kidnapped, call me. We have missing persons detectives. We can help you find them. Even if you don't think you need the help.”
“Deal,” laughed Cesc. The last vestiges of his tension were starting to unwind in the morning light. “And can I just say, I really do hope I never have to take you up on that.”
“You and me both,” mused Azucar. “One can only pray there’s not more murderous vampires lurking about.”
“Amen,” said Cesc, tinking his fingernail against Azucar’s mug in a mock toast.
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Posted: Wed Dec 14, 2016 4:48 pm
Halloween Cesc and Zurine go into a haunted house.
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Posted: Wed Dec 14, 2016 4:52 pm
Delicate Balance “Rhedefre.”
Granny’s voice broke into his thoughts.
Cesc was sitting at her kitchen table, poring over an open book, when she spoke. He looked up, eyebrows lifted. “Mm?”
She seated herself across from him, crossing her ankles. Beside her, Balthazar padded quietly until he was at her same attitude and sat at noble attention. Cesc smiled at the dog and then ticked his eyes back to Gertrude.
“I wish to speak with you,” she said when she was situated, her hands resting gently on one of her knees.
“About lessons?” mused Cesc. “That’s great—I actually wanted to talk to you, too, about this last chapter—“
“Do not interrupt,” she said primly, although the next moment she betrayed a faint hesitation, opening and then closing her lips. She decided on her original plan: “I wish to speak to you about your friend, Xiu.”
The stag groaned inwardly and sat back on his chair, deflating. He might have known this would be coming. He wet his lips. “About Xiu—“
“Rhedefre. Allow me to finish before you editorialize my comments.” Gertrude said sternly. “I am not going to lecture you about what happened this summer. I may presume you have had enough of that vein. I have looked into the matter and I consider it as settled.” She paused, choosing her next words. “It appears, however, that Xiu has not.”
Cesc frowned, straightening. “Wait, what?”
“I see you did not know,” she said. Gertrude nodded, slowly. “Yes… yes, that is a relief.”
Cesc stiffened, now leaning forward. “What are you talking about? Is he in more trouble?”
“No,” said Gertrude. “This time he is causing the trouble. I have heard some troubling rumors from good friends of mine in the magical community. I am afraid your friend has begun to wreak vengeance upon any spirit he finds troublesome. Rhedefre, I do not hesitate to tell you in the strongest fashion that he is going quite overboard in his methods.” She frowned, and there was a spark of anger in her blue eyes. “I have been told that he is disrupting a delicate balance.”
Blinking, Cesc watched Granny, surprised at the level to which the woman seemed to be upset. Wasn’t ghost-busting a good thing? And, anyway, how could Xiu kill something that was already dead?
“It’s that bad?” he said, doubtfully. “I’m sure Xiu would never hurt anything innocent…”
“Oh.” Gertrude’s voice was cold, and in that one syllable there was an angry dismissiveness. She drew back, and even Balthazar snorted and eyed Rhedefre suspiciously, watching his mistress’s discontentment. “Rhedefre. Have you learned nothing? Such a statement. As though innocence were the only component of our lives. There are ghosts and demons and darkness all around us. They are what allow light to exist.” She glanced at him. “But I suppose this is your soul’s prejudice. White stags are not wholly appreciative of darkness; their business is light.”
Cesc balked, coloring. “That’s not what I meant.”
Granny lifted a hand. “We can discuss that momentarily. Rhedefre, I need your absolute word that you will tell Xiu he is making a grave mistake. Do you understand me? A grave mistake. Perhaps—from one soul of light to another—it will make a difference.”
--------------------------------------------
Not so long after, Xiu comes to seek counsel.
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Posted: Wed Dec 14, 2016 4:55 pm
Familiar Faces
In the autumn season, Cesc, Claire and Lorin go on a hike together at the National Forest Preserve. *
Cesc breathed a shaky breath. They were here.
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Posted: Fri Dec 23, 2016 3:29 pm
Nothing to be Done
It was early in the evening—after his lessons but before dinnertime—and Cesc sat on Gertrude’s chintzy sofa with the knitted cream-colored doily on the back, looking up at the ceiling instead of the book that had fallen from his fingers onto the cushions beside him. Gertrude, sitting across from him in a large shabby armchair, looked up from her own volume from over her reading glasses.
“Rhedefre,” she nudged. “Your book seems to have slipped.”
“Hm?” Cesc straightened, gathering his book back into his hands. “Oh, sorry, Grams.”
Gertrude wrinkled her nose slightly at the nickname. “Thinking about baseball, are we?”
“Baseball isn’t in season right now,” Cesc said with a smile. “And no, I’m not. I was actually thinking a little bit about what you said to me a while back—when Xiu was having his… trouble.”
Gertrude set her book down in her lap, taking off her reading glasses and setting them on the short side-table to her right. She folded her hands atop her knee. “Go on,” she said.
“You said something about my soul not liking darkness or something,” Cesc said. “Made me think a little bit.”
“What about?”
“Our souls. Raevan souls,” said Cesc, drumming his fingers idly on the arm of the sofa. “My soul, I guess.” He looked over at her. “…do you really think it effects me so much? Having a white stag soul? Is that why I am… how I am?”
“Mm.” Gertrude waited a long moment as she began to formulate her reply in her head. She betrayed no surprise—but then again, Cesc thought, she never really did. There was an old Victorian saying: a true lady could never be surprised. And Granny was, to be sure, a true lady.
“I suppose this is a question of nature versus nurture,” she said musingly. “Many philosophers and psychiatrists have failed to come up with a complete answer. You gain traits from your parents and from those that raise you. Some of what we have is hardwired; other things are given to us by our upbringing. For you, that soul is your parentage, I would wager.” She leaned forward, looking at him. “I do believe that soul has say in how you are, yes. But so has what Vivette and Shepard have taught you.”
Cesc nodded, listening, his own eyes tracing the room as he processed her words. Vivi and Shepard and Gertrude had been his family since day one—since the day one he could remember, anyway—and the Lab had made for a great extended family. But…
“…do you think I should… seek out some white stags?” He asked, his voice quiet.
Granny’s expression changed, her eyes lowering. She sat straight, and crossed and uncrossed her ankles. “What would you hope to gain from them?”
“I don’t know,” said Cesc. “But I can’t help but think it would teach me… something. Like an adopted kid wanting to meet his bio-family, you know? I’m not missing anything here. But I just want to know.”
There was a brief silence, punctuated by the grandfather clock in the hall ticking away seconds. Three passed before Gertrude spoke again.
“White stags are notorious in their secrecy,” she said. “They are capable of hiding and escaping phenomenally well—and generally are only seen when they desire it. Have you ever been approached by one before?”
Cesc thought back to his Freihood, to the moment his wings shattered—to the silent white stag who watched him impassively. Turned and walked into the forest without answering his pleas. “Once,” he said. “It… didn’t go well.”
“Until they approach you, Rhedefre,” said Gertrude, “I do not know what can be done.”
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Posted: Fri Dec 23, 2016 3:33 pm
Something Doing
But Cesc knew what could be done.
The trees think you're familiar! He thought of Lorin’s young voice on Ramshead trail, and wondered.
Before he had grown, when in anguish and anger his wings had shattered behind him—the sight of the white stag that had viewed him so calmly, so silently. Had there been recognition there, in the woods nearer his home? Or had it simply been that he was an oddity?
They were there, in that preserve, living long enough that the trees knew them and knew him by extension.
The preserve had an answer for him, Cesc thought. If only Lorin could actually speak with the tree more fully, could get them to explain, get them to pinpoint—that would have been ideal. But as it was, he could only return alone and implore the forest to help him.
Rhedefre hopped the ferry once more and took himself to the National Forest Preserve. He waited until the second entry stop, the stop to Ramshead Trail, and exited. It was a quiet autumn day, with chill in the air but clear sun in the sky, and the forest beckoned.
There, in the mountains, there you feel free.
T.S. Eliot’s words again entered his head. Only, these were not mountains—these were woods and trees and yes, rolling hills, but not craggy peaks and altitude changes. It was an imperfect quote, but he felt it for himself down to his bones. There in the forest, there you feel free, was his quotation, instead.
He went through the trail and hiked up to the waterfall peak. And there, instead of simply admiring the view, he went deeper, deeper into the woods, off of the trail. He had no fear of being lost: why would he? His internal compass knew, instinctively, the quickest way to home, the safest route, no matter where he was. Trails were important for others. Not for him.
In those unmarked pathways, in the thick of the forest, Cesc felt brilliantly unshackled. Weights he had never noticed seemed lifted from his back. He felt like he could breathe, could sing, could roam for days if he wanted. He had dawn and light and this forest, and that felt like enough. Half-giddy with the feeling of it, he turned to a nearby tree and smiled:
“Do I know you?” he said.
The tree did not respond.
"Do you know me?" he ventured, smiling to himself.
This time, there was a strange sound, like a giggle.
Cesc’s ears swiveled. He snapped his eyes to a beckoning movement in the corner of his vision—another flash of bright white. If was gone again as he looked—but not fully disappeared. He could still hear what sounded like stifled laughter, children’s laughter.
“That’s not nice!” called Rhedefre good-naturedly to the noise. He turned in a slow circle, his hands up in a show of good faith. “Why are you laughing? Cause I talked to the tree? Some people can do that, you know.”
A bush rattled. Cesc approached it, deliberate, slow. “How do you know I can’t understand it?”
A flash of a white tail could be seen behind the bush. It flicked upward as he got close and then there was a dash, directly past him.
“They laugh because they know you cannot understand it,” came a deep voice from behind Cesc, and now it was his turn to startle, whipping back toward it.
Behind him, standing on strong golden hooves, was a white stag.
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Posted: Fri Dec 23, 2016 3:35 pm
The Stags
It took Cesc’s breath away to see. The stag was massive, over six feet tall from legs to ears, with a rack of golden antlers that extended even further beyond. His eyes were the color of boiling gold, with flecks of burnt browns and blacks like stars in a universe of sunlight. He was proud-chested and broad shouldered, and he stood with his ears up and his nostrils flared.
Cesc stared openly. Behind him, the small voices continued to giggle, until they emerged from their hiding places: little fawns, all white with golden spots.
“The Lightbreaker is here,” they sang.
“So it seems,” said the stag before Cesc. His mouth did not move as he spoke, as though his voice were merely a projection. He blinked slowly as he looked over Cesc. “Not what I expected.”
“He’s so small!” cooed the fawns.
Rhedefre found his voice. “Who—”
“Your brethren,” answered the stag. “I am Bucephalus, father of these fawns.” He took a slow step forward, toward the Raevan. “And you—you are the ones with the wings of light, that broke them in anger years ago.”
Cesc blinked at such a description of himself, but his surprise had still taken his breath from his lungs. He had never been so close to his own kind before, never heard them speak as they did now. He opened his mouth and closed it, opened and closed it again.”
The fawns moved like a tide, creeping closer without fear. There were twelve of them, eyes bright like the morning sun, their backs flecked with light.
“What’s this?” one called, nosing his ribbon.
“Can’t he talk to us?” moaned another.
“Break your wings again, like Adonis said you could!” demanded a third.
“Praise Adonis!”
“Golden Adonis!”
“That’s enough,” said Bucephalus calmly. “You’re frightening him.”
“No—“ came Cesc’s voice, and he cleared his throat as though to dislodge it. “No, that’s not it at all. I just—I’m just surprised. I’ve looked for you guys for years and never…”
“That isn’t unusual,” interjected Bucephalus smoothly.
“I’m one of you,” Cesc blurted at the heel of his words.
Bucephalus let out a laugh.
“Yes,” he said. “We know.”
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Posted: Sat Dec 24, 2016 7:23 pm
The Stags: II
“You actually met one?” said Azucar with raised eyebrows, drawing back slightly from the café table.
“I met like thirteen,” laughed Cesc, his cheeks bright with color, his eyes clear. The surprise and joy of the encounter felt like champagne in his chest, bubbling over, his limbs giddy with the desire to move, to dance, to tell everyone. “It was great!”
“Ah?” Azucar’s eyebrows still had not gone down. “A homecoming of sorts?”
“Well—not really,” said the stag with a shrug. “They’re actual deer, you know? Just huge. Bucephalus was massive. I couldn’t believe how big. As tall as Shepard—bigger than any deer I’ve seen. I can’t believe how fast they are. Or how bright. White and gold are not really the colors you’d expect from a thing known for its stealth.”
The detective laughed at that, his smile animating his features. “Legendary creatures don’t care for your logic, my friend.”
“He told me that they’ve known about me for a while,” continued Cesc. “But they weren’t sure about me because of that time I broke my wings in the woods here—they thought I might’ve been aggressive.”
“You?” echoed Azucar, dropping his jaw in an exaggerated show of surprise. “Back then you hadn’t even gotten into a fight before.”
Cesc let out a snort-laugh, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “Well. Yeah. I don’t know. They think I’m alright now, I guess.”
“Very interesting,” mused Azucar, leaning forward to take a crumb off the table with his thumb and depositing it onto his plate. “You have finally passed muster to them.”
“I think they’re just skittish,” mused Cesc, rubbing his knuckles against the stubble on his jaw. “I get it. And anyway, it’s just nice…”
“Nice to know from where your soul came?” Azucar said, nodding slowly.
“Yeah,” said Cesc. “Well—“ he paused, wetting his lips, squinting. “Well, more than that, really, I guess. It’s nice to feel like there’s some kind of extended family for me, I guess.”
To this, the detective frowned. His eyes ticked back up to Cesc, and he pronounced his words carefully: “You… feel you need more family, is it?”
Cesc colored slightly, the feeling and fullness of his youth suddenly quite apparent to him. He remembered Lorin's words: your cousins, he called the herd.
“It’s not that. Vivi and Shepard have given me everything I needed, you know? They’re great to me. They’ve always let me muddle through things I needed to do alone, always expected me to contribute—always expected a lot of me. And I think it was good for me. But, you know, I look at these young kid Raevans, like… like Lorin, like Aina.”
He paused, pulling his phone out of his hoodie pocket and swiping it open, finding pictures of the childlike Raevans. He passed his phone to Azucar, showing him the screen.
“They have families. Mamas, Papas—a new friend I met, Shoshana, she has a sister. A real nuclear family. It’s just… it’s kind of foreign to me, but it seems really nice.”
Azucar looked with interest at Cesc’s phone, tweezing his fingers to zoom into the images. He smiled, then handed the phone back to the stag. “You’re looking for a mother and a father in these deer, then?”
Cesc shook his head immediately, grinning at the idea. “Oh, no. No, no. I don’t need that. That’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean?” asked Azucar, inclining his head. “You were never so small as these young ones, am I correct?”
“I wasn’t, no. I was… Vivi says I was like a foreign exchange student. Like I had culture shock. But I didn’t have my own culture or anything,” said Cesc. “So I guess part of me… part of me wants to know if I did have one I just couldn’t remember. If it was the white stag culture, the one my soul had before it was mine? Does that make sense?”
Azucar’s eyes held an earnest, helpless confusion. He wore a half-smile and his eyebrows were lifted. “I… suppose?” he said, doubtfully.
Cesc couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t want a father and mother. I just want to know if there was something I was part of before that might make me feel at home again.”
With a sigh, Azucar let his shoulders slope, and he rubbed the back of his neck and then opened his palm and splayed his fingers. “I cannot pretend I know! You have a different experience of life than mine,” he said. “I wish you luck in finding what you need—where did you say you found them, again?”
“Oh, the National Forest Preserve—the one just over the bay,” said Cesc.
“Oh?” Azucar lifted his coffee cup. “Be careful out there, the trails aren’t marked that well. A lot of people have been getting lost since the last fall storm.”
Cesc grinned.
“Yeah… You don’t need to worry about that with me,” he said.
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