2 Brooklyn James (26 page)

Emily winces, knowing the pain his words must cause Lon, understanding his position given her own strained relationship with her mother. For Max, and for Lon, she wishes a true reconciliation, feeling partly responsible as it was her mother’s hand in saving her life that triggered the entire twisted sequence of events.

“Maxim,” Lon speaks, his voice deeply apologetic. “If you think I am proud of what I have become, you are sorely mistaken. But to ensure your safety, I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

“I didn’t want you to do any of this for me,” Max bites. “And you are sorely mistaken if you’ve convinced yourself you’ve done all of this for my benefit.”

“I have convinced myself of nothing. I have done what I have done because I chose to do so. And I wouldn’t do it any other way.” Lon stands, running his fingers through his hair. “What do you love, Maxim? What do you love more than yourself?” Lon looks to Emily as an example. “If ETNA did to Emily what they did to you, what would you do? Would you not vow to own them all? Make them pay?”

“Make them pay? Yes. Jump in bed with them? Hell no!”

“You surmise I am
in bed
with ETNA?” Lon’s eyes flicker with anger, the trifecta—emerald green, steel blue and violent red—taking Max aback. “I own ETNA, Maxim. They grovel at my feet. Bark upon my command. And not for one second do I take pity on them. They brought this on themselves. You...me...Emily...Gina. They played with all of our lives. If you seek the truth, you must see it for what it really is.” He calms himself, his eyes returning to their natural state. “Maybe you have too much of your mother in you. Pure and good,” he contemplates stalling his pacing. “They took her from us too, you know.” He eyes Emily wondering if she has been so forthcoming about her own mother, Dr. Patricia Ryan, and her part in all of this.

“Well then, where are they?” Max flings his arms out from his sides, spinning around as if looking for ETNA.

“The monitor. The empty laboratory. That’s their usual station,” Lon begins. “After I left you at your Pee-Paw’s, I returned here. They could not contain me...their own creation. You would think at least one in a group of intelligent scientists would know that as long as there exists human will, they will never create the perfect, benevolent beast.” Lon paces. “It was easy, really. Men who work for ETNA, they see themselves as the elite...pristine. Accustomed to the best of the best in the form of amenities, pay, lifestyle. They’re
civilized,”
he huffs, chuckling at the thought. “They have no heart. They’ve never been tested. They know nothing of what it takes to rise and fight. And their intelligence is highly questionable, seeing they took a man who had nothing to lose, gave him an insurmountable amount of superhuman powers and strength, then expected him to speak, roll over and lie down upon command.” Lon growls mid-monologue, the colors from his eyes darting about the room. “I took some time. Figured out how to tap into, calling on my powers at will.” He motions to Max and Emily. “You know what I speak of. It’s nothing the two of you haven’t been through. The shock of finding out what you’re truly capable of and gaining control of it, making it work for you rather than against you.”

Emily nods in complete understanding, still trying to figure out her new bag of tricks from Gina’s repertoire.

“Upon my return, ETNA was mine. I knew it before I even came back to this warehouse. I could feel it burning inside.” He taps his hand aggressively off his chest. “They knew it, from the moment my boots hit the deck. I walked differently. My feet carrying a certain cadence, demanding and intolerant. The whole lot, feeble...spineless, they were mine for the taking. And I took it. What was mine...yours,” he looks to Max, “your mother’s. And now I’m offering it to you.”

“Why would I want it?” Max questions.

“You can’t have a passel of Vigilares running about with no leader, no regulation. Without order, there lies only chaos. You think I’m holding Gina for my own personal gain?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Max mutters attempting to digest the plethora of incoming information.

“I’m holding Gina to keep her safe. She knows not what is best for her.”

“Oh, and you do?” Max chimes. “All your talk about law and order. Are we talking a democracy or a dictatorship here?”

“There is a war going on, son. Dr. Ryan and her loyal companion Dr. Godfrey,” he expels their names through gritted teeth, eyeing Emily. Her chin quickly dropping to her chest, her focus settling on her hands wringing in her lap.

“Don’t look at her that way,” Max defends taking an imposing step toward his father, refraining from latching onto him. “She’s a victim, too. You think she actually had a choice in her mother’s decision to transfuse Gina’s blood into her to save her life? You have no idea what she’s been through.”

Lon holds his hands up, palms out, smiling with his son’s protective, valiant display. “I admire the young Ms. Truly. I believe she is the perfect counter for you, brave and passionate. Think of what you could accomplish together. If her intentions are true?” Lon steps to his son, his hands affectionately placed on Max’s shoulders. “Her mother...Dr. Ryan...she has been running the show. But why? She’s not even of Vigilare pedigree. ETNA wanted to run the show. Not one of them a Vigilare. You and Emily...your union is of divine Vigilare pedigree, joining together the creation of Doctors Godfrey and Ryan with that of ETNA. Don’t you see? Vigilares should be led and groomed by Vigilares. Not by commoners.”

“But where does it stop? Should they all be punished?” Max inquires. “If they’re commoners, they cannot touch us, really.”

Lon chuckles. “You are your mother’s son,” he says adoringly. Removing his hands from Max’s jacket, he pats him lightly. “They know too much. They want too much from us. Such matters need to be handled effectively.”

“Tell me. How are you
handling
ETNA?”

Lon looks to Emily, curious why she has not spilled the truth of his intentions. “I figured it would be best explained by you. It wasn’t mine to tell,” she answers his concern. He nods, thankful for her restraint.

“You’ve heard of the Gambini mob family. They run New Orleans these days,” Lon begins, noticing a glimmer of recognition and hostility in his son’s eyes with the mention of the name. “I am using ETNA to clean house.”

“ETNA? A group of scientists are going to clean out the most notorious mob in New Orleans?” Max questions, disbelieving.

“Scientists with a hint of Vigilare pedigree,” Lon answers keenly.

“A hint?” Max furrows his brow.

“A small dose. Nothing you or I...even Ms. Truly...cannot handle.”

“How many?” Max paces, his mind reeling, confused as to whether he should be proud or mortified by his father’s actions.

Lon shrugs. “Nearly twenty.”

“And how do you propose to contain them, if they could not contain you?”

“They
will
return to me when their work is done, or else.”

“You have the capacity to take down twenty drones?” Max continues skeptically.

Lon nods. “As do you. Even Emily. You see, that’s why we need a melding of the pedigrees. They...ETNA, Dr. Ryan, Dr. Godfrey...cannot rule what they cannot breach. We stand united, and it’s ours. Everything, Maxim.” Lon’s eyes are intent, his chest swelling. “Vigilare for Vigilare. Pure freedom. Never again to have our fate disrupted.”

Just down the
hall in a sizable room with no windows, Gina paces. Her breakfast sits on the vanity, untouched. The rattle of a chain holding the door secure from the outside sounds. She preps herself for Lon’s entrance, her rebuttal on the tip of her tongue. The large steel door creaks open. Gina hastily grabs up a muffin from her breakfast tray and wings it at the entrance.

“If you think you’re going to get anywhere with me by locking me up, you...” her words trail off at the face peeking inside the steel frame.

“How many more muffins ya got?” Tony smiles coolly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Just so I know how much more dodging I have to look forward to.”

“What are you doing here?” Gina grows concerned. “You can’t be here. He’ll...” Her words stopped by Tony’s mouth covering hers. First giving in to his kiss, she gathers her wits about her, pushing off his chest, creating a safe distance between them. “You have to go. Now!” she whispers desperately.

“Not without you.” Tony grabs her hand pulling her in the direction of the door.

She balks against him, digging her boots into the floor. “I leave, and you’re all done. He’ll stop at nothing, Tony.” She wriggles her arm free of his clutches.

“Let the hound come,” Tony rebukes. “We’ll be ready for him this time. I’m not leaving you here. You walk out freely or roll up your cuffs, Vigilare.” He prepares himself for the fight of his life, and hers.

She looks at him apologetically. “It’s not Hell Hound, Tony. It’s not what you think at all.”

“Have it your way,” he says, rolling up his sleeves and calling on her Vigilare instincts with his own, his hazel eyes instantly ablaze with emerald green. Gina stands quiet and still, letting him find out for himself that she is no longer the divine Vigilare. Momentarily, Tony quells his pedigree. “Did you learn how to barricade it? Camouflage it? What?” he asks, baffled.

“It’s gone. I don’t have it anymore.”

“How did he take it? Can he do that? How the hell did that slimy ass snake manage that?” Tony paces. “ETNA,” he answers his own question.

“Gronkowski,” Gina grits, her jaw twitching. “It’s not Manny. It’s not even ETNA.”

“Well, then who the hell is it?” He steps to her, his chest rising and falling.

“Shh,” she quiets him gently placing her fingers over his lips, her eyes plagued with pain and guilt. “Remember how I kept thinking I saw Lon? At the café. At the masquerade ball.” Her chest now mirroring his, inhaling and exhaling ardently. “Well, I did. Lon’s alive.” Tony closes his eyes holding them back from raging.
“Please,
just go. As long as he has me, everything...everyone will be okay.”

“The man has you locked up like some animal in a cage, and I’m supposed to believe you’re safe?” He opens his eyes, now empty and dark.

“He’s not going to hurt me, Tony. Besides, without my powers, what use am I to you? To any of you?”

“I loved you before I knew anything of your powers,” he clarifies.

Gina sucks in air, his confession arriving at the most inopportune time. “You can’t love me. Not now.” She pivots, her hands wringing the back of her neck.

“I see,” he says backing away from her. “Your husband comes back from the dead and all bets are off, huh? You and me...what we had, is just that, past tense?”

She turns facing him with no other choice but to agree, especially if it will compel him to leave, ensuring his safety. Holding back tears, she nods affirming his suspicions. His expression wounded, he continues backing away toward the door.

The phone, hanging from the duty belt on his hip, rings. Clearing his throat he returns to detective mode, “Gronkowski.”

“We got a problem,” Marks’ voice asserts over the line. “The whole damn city’s under siege. They’re like you. Their eyes light up, they’ve got super strength. Goddammit, Sarge...what the hell is going on? They’re after the Gambinis. Can’t say that’s such a bad thing, but innocent lives are being lost in the crossfire. Bring everyone you’ve got...like you. We’re gonna need ’em.”

“On my way,” Tony affirms ending the call. “Some husband you got there,” he bites at Gina.

“Did you hear
that?” Lon asks, hustling to the hallway. “Sounded like a phone.” He darts down the corridor seeing the chain links dangling from Gina’s room. Max and Emily follow briskly at his heels. Lon wings the door open. Tony stands behind it. Lon emits a sinister chuckle. “At last, we meet. The great detective.” His eyes quickly turning the trifecta of colors, he lunges at Tony, grabbing him up by the collar of his shirt. With one swift move, he plants Tony’s back against the wall across the room, his forearm pressing into his neck.

“Lon!” Gina screams, fighting to thrust herself between them.

“Dad!” Max expels, grabbing Lon’s shoulders pulling him off Tony.

Gina follows Tony’s body to the floor. He gasps for air, staring at Lon, his eyes begin to flare emerald green. Gina positions herself in front of him, blocking his view. “Gronkowski,” she calls. “Don’t do it. You’ll be asking for your own annihilation. We can’t beat him. None of us.”

“Well, look at my dutiful wife,” Lon seethes at the attention she pays to Tony. Max pushes against Lon’s chest, keeping him at a safe distance. “And my son.” Lon backs up, tears forming in his eyes at their loyalty to the great detective.

“What good will it do for you to fight him?” Emily pipes up, her mediator skills kicking in. “He’s one of us. You just stood in there and talked of Vigilares uniting. Did you propose to be so selective?”

“He is not one of us,” Lon’s voice is frighteningly distorted.

“Get him out of here,” Gina calls to Max while helping Tony up.

Lon pushes Max out of the way. “He’s not going anywhere. Me and the great detective have a score to settle. You don’t take a woman betrothed to another man and get off scot-free.” Lon’s skin turning a shade of violent red, he positions himself in front of Gina and Tony. “Move,” he warns Gina. His body seethes, his chest puffed out, his back arches, aching for release.

Gina turns to face him, remaining in position in front of Tony as he stands to meet Lon’s challenge. Gina quickly covers him, her back pressed against his front. “Gronkowski,” she warns. “You’re not doing this. You’re going to leave, with Maxim and Emily.” Refusing to break her line of sight on Lon, she continues, “And you, my
betrothed,”
she spits venomously, her teeth pressing painfully together. “You want to make him pay so dearly, you come through me.”

“And me,” Emily joins stepping in front of Gina remembering with Gina’s Vigilare blood in her system, Lon is powerless against her.

Lon’s chest rises and falls, his ribcage visibly expanding and contracting, he can feel Emily’s wall of protection as the scent of Gina’s blood stirs in her system. He arches his neck backward, looking up.
Whoosh!
The fireball escapes from his mouth with such power it blows a hole in the ceiling, burning out on the floor above. Max looks to him, his emotions tangled between awe and loathing. “She stays,” Lon barks pointing to Gina.

“I wouldn’t think about leaving this quaint little abode,” she pipes back, wrangling Tony into Emily’s care. Emily coerces him out the door. Lon paces, his disturbed inhalation and exhalation audible, the trifecta sparking here and there. Max stands watching Gina, his curiosity reeling. She comes to him, her hand softly finding his cheek. “You go with them. Look out for one another.” She smiles, her eyes tearing up with the image of her boy, too soon a man. He notices the crucifix hanging from her neck. His arms wrap firmly around her. Despite the passage of time, the familiarity of her embrace comes back to him. “Later alligator,” she whispers in his ear, the same salutation she gave him every morning before he hopped on the school bus. A purposeful non-goodbye, assuring him he would see her again.