Mica called for a car to drive him to President Maxem's estate. It had only taken him a moment to wash his face and hands, but it wasn't long enough for him to pry his mind from the occurrence that had taken place in his office. Not only was he not able to contact the Third Eye, but he couldn't even reach the voice to get answers about the sudden shock.
It had paralyzed him in those fast-paced minutes and had destroyed most of his office. He didn't know where the surge of power had come from or how it hadn't just straight up killed him. He tried to push it all to the back of his mind. He wanted to only focus on what Maxem had called him in for. No doubt it was about Cassius and the search for the high-class demon that had attacked General Iza's SWARM.
Mica had already handed in the reports and had taken action to acquire Cassius into Keshtin's SWARM, all in the hopes that he would be assigned to the case. He would be, Mica was definitely sure, but Maxem was unpredictable. Most times Mica could convince him or sway his opinion, but there were times when Mica's influence had no effect.
It couldn't be this time. He had to make sure he was on the case and that Cassius was under his command. Things were coming together and he wasn't about to let it be spoiled now.
He looked out the car window. The city lights were dim and as they passed building after building, he saw no life on the streets. It was a dead city on the outside but underground was a whole different story.
The underground system was covered in nightclubs and bars which many Exterus spent their free time. Many Exteru worked outside of the government or had been relieved on duty. Since the slaving and management of the Mekiah had been under control for the last century, there wasn't a need for so many Exterus. If they weren't employed, they didn't have much to do other than party.
Remu didn't have the luxury.
They were everything the Exterus weren't. They were drivers, doctors, bartenders, salesmen, and anything else the city needed to function. There were the fortunate who either married into Exteru money or were lucky enough to find placement in the Xtavia government, but if they didn't they would work for the rest of their lives.
He didn't know many Remu or Exterus who weren't part of Maxem's circle or who weren't in the military. His whole life centered around those two things and he didn't have much time between chasing down criminals and demons to do anything else. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to be part of that world. He knew it wasn't right for him even though he'd never experienced it. There was just something about the Exterus who ignored all the trouble in the world that irritated him. They liked to fake their innocence.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. Lucius didn't fake anything. He wasn't ashamed to be the brat he was and liked to she off his true colors any chance he could get.
Their childhood together, him and Lucius, had been nothing like he would imagine other kids would have gone through. It was definitely nothing like the lives of Mekiah for which he knew so much only because his sister Silvia was employed at the HIVE and oversaw much of the Mekiah "production". It gave a sour taste in his mouth when he thought about the production site in which Mekiah were forced to mate and produce children for the sake of Xtavia's general income. Xtavia was a slaving country that sold Mekiah to neighboring countries. Besides their military presence—and their magic dealings—Xtavia didn't have much to offer. If it wasn't for the slave-ring, the country would have ceased to exist.
So, he knew Mekiah children were the worst off. They didn't know their parents, didn't know anything about the world except they were the propter of the government and that was all. Remu were the normal ones. If being normal meant owning slaves, but being a slave yourself. He'd lived in an orphanage that had slaves. They were all females who were too old to produce anymore. They were tossed to government-funded programs to keep the cost down. He hadn't known that then. He was only around ten when he was removed from the facility and placed into the care of President Maxem.
His life up until that point had been nothing but a faded memory of faces. He couldn't remember his parents, not even if he had ones in the first place. Even though he'd been old enough to recall the past five years, he couldn't. He'd been blank since he arrived at the orphanage at five years old and there was nothing that could fix it. The mistress of the orphanage hadn't tried, but the Mekiah slaves had been curious.
He couldn't be angry at them though they weren't exactly allowed to talk to him. That was a rule of the house. Mistress—he couldn't recall her name either—hated when the slaves talked. She hated everything about them and if she could have had her way, she wouldn't have let them take a step into the house. That would mean then she would have to take car of the children.
Memories like that were unnecessary.
Lucius had always been a brat. He hadn't changed in the slightest bit.
Mica turned away from the window. He smoothed down the front of his uniform and made sure each button was straightened. His issued gun pressed at his hip and the small band around his wrist felt heavy as he waited for the car to pull into the long driveway that led to Maxem's large mansion.
The band was thin silver. It was easily hidden by his sleeve. Mica traced his finger around the metal, slowly dragging the tip of his finger around, following the natural curve of his wrist.
The car turned. He looked up and saw the mansion off in the distance. It was white, glistening with large windows that overlooked a small lake. The house had been built hundreds of years ago and had always been in the possession of Maxem. He was as old as Xtavia itself.
The car pulled into the driveway. Through the windshield, Mica saw the large metal gate surrounding the estate first. At the end of the driveway, there was an intercom box. The gate was enhanced with magic and Maxem was the only one allowed to oversee its maintenance.
He didn't trust anyone other than himself and a few of his closest guards to keep the estate protected, not even Mica or Lucius were allowed that job. It was probably wise of him to do so. Mica knew Lucius would take the opportunity to smite his father only because Maxem was a ruthless person and had been a tyrant of a parent.
The car stopped in front of the intercom. Mica rolled down his window as the intercom came close to his side. The intercom beeped and the head of Maxem's guard spoke.
"Name?"
"General Rexton." The intercom beeped once more.
"Proceed."
The gate opened and the car drove through. As the car rolled up to the large archway entrance, Mica thought back to when he was still too young to be sent off to the academy. He'd been brought up in this house with no other way to escape other than to join the military. Maxem wouldn't have given him any other choice.
The whole reason Mica had even been brought into this house was because of his magic. He was special. A Remu with magic was rare—he was the only kind in existence. The plan had always been for Mica to take over as top general since the day Maxem was notified about Mica in the orphanage.
He wondered how different his life would have been if Maxem hadn't known of his power. He would have still joined the military. It was the only thing he knew how to do and as a child, he'd been plagued by his own anger. But there was a firm doubt that he would have been turned away.
If that had happened, he might have lived out a normal life. Maybe he would have a wife and children, working away the rest of his years with no real goal. Even now, with the clear-cut idea as to what he wanted, there were times when he asked himself if this was really what he wanted.
The car stopped. As Mica stepped out from the car, President Maxem walked out from the house's entrance.
"Mica, it's good to see you," Maxem said.
He was tall, taller than Lucius and taller then Mica. His white hair was cropped short and his blue eyes were sharp. He didn't look anything like his age. He didn't even look old enough to have a full-grown son, let alone another full-grown daughter. But age was deceptive in Exterus as was their nature.
The minute Mica saw Maxem in the flesh again, all his doubts faded. Maxem was the root of all his problems. He was reminded once more of what he was fighting for and what he wanted.
"Hello, father."
Maxem embraced Mica. The touch of Maxem's spidery like fingers on his back made him want to curl away in disgust.
Maxem pulled away, his hands lingering on Mica's shoulders. His lips turned up in a small smile. Mica held his gaze and Maxem laughed.
"Always the silent one," he said as he patted Mica on the back. "Come in. It's been a while since you've visited."
Visited. He made it sound like Mica had been too busy to enjoy the comfort of his lovely father.
The real reason he hadn't been here in so long was because he was working on the very mission his "father" had put him in. He narrowed his eyes but didn't resist when Maxem led him toward the front door.
They walked side by side into the entry hall. The house was full of whites and golds. Massive windows spread across the walls and where there wasn't a window, a mirror had been hung. Each detail made the small entryway feel larger than it was.
The entryway opened to a sitting hall. A large light brown couch sat in the center of the room and in front of it was a glass coffee table. On top sat a tea tray with two teacups and a teapot. The tea was still warm and as they drew closer to the open sitting room, he saw more of the walls.
It had been a while since he stepped inside this house. Though the months passing hadn't changed a thing, the place still felt as ghostly as it had when he was younger. The years couldn't strip the uncomfortable feeling he got when he entered nor could it create something more homey for him to latch onto. Maxem wasn't the fatherly type. Lucius's mother was an Exteru who didn't have a name or face and had disappeared the day Lucius was born. And Maxem wasn't going to fill in the blanks.
The years spent growing up here on the estate had been comparable to living in a cell. Though it was beautiful and he never went hungry, Maxem couldn't be bothered to spend time with his children—whether adopted or not. Silvia was lucky enough to be sent away to a school when she was able to talk. She'd grown up only knowing Maxem as the President and not a parent figure.
Unfortunately, Lucius and Mica had to stay here. They were forced to play together. It never worked out between the two. Lucius made it clear he didn't want anything to do with Mica. If Lucius could kill his father without remorse, he could kill Mica without a second thought.
Maxem sat down on the couch, patting the cushion beside him. Mica glanced at the spot, his eyes taking in the soft fur draped over the back of the couch, and the pillow placed in the corner. He slowly made his way to the couch and sat down. Maxem leaned back and crossed his legs. Mica sat forward with his elbows on his knees.
"What is it you wish to speak about?"
Maxem leaned over to the coffee table. He lifted the gold teapot and poured a cup of steaming tea for himself. He gestured too Mica.
"Would you like a cup?"
Mica gave him a flat look. "I'm here to discuss the Parlera case."
Maxem let out a dramatic sigh. "Of course. I can't visit with my son without talking about politics."
Mica merely stared at Maxem. "If you want to talk about something else, fine."
Maxem gave him a shit eating grin as he sipped his tea. His eyes glistened over the rim. "No. Let's talk about Parlera."
He was soaking this up. Mica could see how much it pleased Maxem that he had Mica under his thumb. His blue angelic eyes pierced into Mica's. He'd done the same when Mica was younger. He would stare at Mica until he couldn't handle it anymore.
He thought back to the times he would be put in the shed, locked away in the dark, and forced to kneel on hot oats until he felt the skin on his knees peel away.
Just by looking at Mica, Maxem could conjure up those memories. It wasn't hard for him to do, but he knew exactly what he was doing. This faked innocence looked pitiful on him. It was just part of the game.
Mica sat with his back straight against the chair. It was lush material, soft under his hands, and different from the last set of furniture he'd sat in the last time he'd been summoned. He bit back a spiteful smirk.
Summoned. It was such a funny word, but it fit too well into Maxem's life and aesthetic. He was a fearing angel when he wanted to be, yet acted like he was high and mighty for all the poor souls who were dumb enough to put their lives in his hand's.
Mica didn't care much about religion. He didn't believe all the bullshit most of the Remu spat, not when he'd been raised by the highest of Exterus. It had taught him that even the saviors were crooks and nothing in this world was truly good.
Maxem sipped once more. He was waiting for Mica to speak, but he was also challenging him. He wanted to know if Mica was still the small broken boy. The last time he'd been here was years ago. They spoke on the phone and that was easy to push through, but it was those eyes that got him every time. It was like Maxem had some power over him when their eyes met. Even when Mica didn't look him in the eye, even when Maxem's gaze rolled over him, contemplating Mica, it was still too much.
Mica was stronger than that. He'd gone through Maxem's torture and he wasn't going to fall back into old habits. This wasn't him anymore.
"What have you gathered?"
Maxem sat the cup down and leaned back in his chair. Mica placed his hands on his thighs, the fabric of his pants scratching over the callouses on his fingers.
"We've set up a perimeter so far. We can't do anything else until we have cleared the Mekiah for entry."
Maxem hummed. He placed his hand on his face, gazing at Mica with another one of those looks. Mica didn't shift uncomfortably like he wanted to.
He'd been a squirmish child, especially when Maxem made him sit still for hours. Lucius was a natural at becoming a living statue. He was more like his father than he probably liked.
"This Mekiah," Maxem drawled. "What's he like?"
Mica chose his words carefully. "Troublesome."
"I'm surprised you haven't broken him in yet. That is your specialty."
Mica made the point to not reply. He evaded the underlying meaning and instead tried to push the conversation back to Cassius.
"Is that what you wanted to know? What the Mekiah is like?"
It was odd, but odd was Maxem's greatest characteristic. He was all about standing out. It's what made him good at his job. Though it looked like he didn't do much, Mica wasn't fooled by Maxem's relaxation. He was a mastermind behind the scenes. It was woven into everything he did.
But Mica knew much more than an average person would know about Maxem. He had the advantage of living with the man for over fifteen years. There were only a few things he gathered on Maxem from the Third Eye, but it was enough.
"There's been trouble. With the Remu."
The Remu. He made it sound like Mica wasn't Remu himself, wasn't part of that culture anymore.
"There have been some…complications since you left the base. Some which have forced me to lay off some of the top generals in the facility."
Mica bit the inside of his cheek. "These complications must have been severe."
"Quite so." Maxem leaned forward. He poured another cup of tea. "I hope you don't have any hand in the matter."
"What makes you think that?"
Maxem looked at him from under his lashes. His eyes narrowed. "You've always been a silent child. You were content with yourself and never once asked for my help. I wonder if you started planning my demise the moment I took you into my care."
Mica leaned forward and took the cup from Maxem's hand. His fingers grazed over Maxem's. The touch of their skin was chilling and made Mica's stomach twist with disgust. Maxem's skin felt like leather. He was old and yet he looked no older than thirty. Always deceiving.
But Mica didn't have any room to talk.
"You taught me to not judge, father." His words were so fake he couldn't bring himself to believe them an ounce. Maxem kept staring. He sat back, finally, but before he could say anything more, the front door burst open.
Lucius stood in the doorway, panting, with his golden hair flowing down his shoulders, disheveled, and his bright blue eyes shooting daggers straight at Mica.
Maxem rolled his eyes. "LLucius, please don't be dramatic."
"That fucking Mekiah should be put down for what he'd done to me!" Lucius stomped into the room and threw down his long coat onto the empty seat facing away from them. The tea-cups and tea-pot shook with each stomp.
"He's been punished," Mica said. He sipped his drink and watched Lucius's face go red.
"Put. Down."
"Now, Lucius, you know we can't do that."
Lucius turned to his father. "And why the hell not?"
Mica couldn't bite back his smirk. "Because he's more valuable than pleasing a spoiled brat."
Lucius slumped into the empty chair. He crossed his arms and glared at Mica. "It would seem you can't control anything."
Mica's smirk disappeared. "It would seem you can't keep your mouth shut."
"Is that supposed to hurt me?"
Mica sipped his tea. The scolding drink gave him an excuse to keep quiet.
"Mica?" Mica glanced to Maxem who nodded in his direction. "What has happened?"
"The Mekiah escaped. Again," Lucius rushed in to say. He was grinning like a pleased cat. Mica imagined he would become fat like one too if he didn't watch himself. His innocent and cute looks wouldn't last through that kind of transformation.
"Again?"
Mica sat his cup down. "There were complications."
He said Maxem's words back and they felt odd on his tongue. Those weren't the words he wanted to say.
"He's powerful," he ended with, but it still didn't seem right.
There was something pushing at the back of his mind, something he couldn't put his finger on. It might be his surroundings. He was back at a place that only conjured up sad and depressing images. Or it might be his imagination.
A cold chill ran down his spine. He glanced over the back of his chair. His gaze wandered over the patio doors leading out to a large garden. There was nothing. No shadows. Nothing at all that should have made him feel uneasy. Unless Maxem and Lucius counted.
"You've been saying that."
Lucius rolled his eyes. "Let's cut all this nonsense. I want that dirty Mekiah dead. Make it happen."
Maxem gave him a flat look. "There is no negotiating."
"I want—"
"I do not care about what you want." Lucius shut his mouth. Maxem's voice echoed, sternly, through the sitting room.
Lucius clenched his jaw, his fingers digging into the soft fabric of the chair. "Has Mica even told you what that Mekiah did? How he humiliated me?"
The chill was back. It was at the nape of his neck. Like fingers gliding down his skin. Mica tensed. The entire room felt like it was on fire and he was a piece of ice at the center of the flames. Maxem and Lucius became the background to something more frightening. He held his gaze, not looking at either of them, but he could feel them waiting for his response.
Maxem was staring a hole into the side of his head. There was something wrong with this place. Much more sinister than what he remembered from his childhood. Something that was growing into the foundation of this house, waiting for all of them to fall into its hands.
He didn't know what it was. He couldn't even begin to describe how disgusting the feeling was. He wanted to wash his body clean of the sensations ghosting over his body.
"Tell me," Maxem said. His voice was hard, no longer the "fun" persona he was putting on. It was no more about the games this time. Mica would have been amused. But the sensation of those fingertips kept drifting over his neck. "What haven't you told me?"
Mica met Maxem's eyes. He clenched his fists to stop the shaking in his body. "I have it under control."
"He doesn't," Lucius said. "That rat set the entire street of Keshtin on fire."
"It was handled. I can assure you that."
Maxem stood. Lucius's face fell. The gloomy look make him look older than his age. The fine lines of stress deepened into his porcelain skin. His blue eyes were dark, hooded with dread.
Mica faked his own oblivious face. Pretenses were what made up this family. Family wasn't quite the word.
They were all different players of his masquerade. Whoever showed their true face first lost. And the one to fool them all would dominate.
Maxem stood at the back of his chair. His hands rested over the back, fingers twirling over the soft fabric. He hummed.
"This…Mekiah sounds more interesting than you led me to believe." His drawled words were like hisses from a snake. "I want to meet him."
The silence became the separation between them. It pushed them to the far corners of the room. Mica thought for a second he could evade the underlying command. He pushed it aside after because there was no persuading Maxem when his interest was piqued.
He narrowed his eyes at Lucius. "Yes. That can be arranged."
The calmness was deadlier than any outburst. Maxem ruled Xtavia with a firm grip, constricting, and planning as it pleased his own agenda.
The iron angel. And his two chained disciples.
Maxem snapped his fingers. "Lucius, leave."
Lucius opened his mouth but closed it when Maxem snapped again.
He stood, his body moving like water. He was silk on two legs, imitating the prowess of a hunter sneaking on its prey. Mica averted his eyes, the tick of annoyance lost at the back of his throat.
They were alone again once Lucius shut the door. The snake and the rat, both waiting for their turn to bite the other.
Maxem walked around and stopped behind Mica's chair. The cold chill lessened as Maxem leaned down.
"Fix it."
That was all he needed to say. Simple words, simple commands. Mica bit down the snappy remark on the tip of his tongue.
"Yes, sir."
Maxem slid away. Mica could still feel him, his warmth, and the prickling of fear that sat atop his skin like slick oil. Maxem didn't need to touch a thing to taint. He only needed to think and it was done.
Mica rose from his seat.
Maxem was gone from the room. Mica hadn't heard a thing, but he was used to the silent slithering of his adoptive father's footsteps. He was a ghost in this large house, lost within the walls, with only the silent screams to keep it from being lonely. Mica was a part of those screams.
Even now, he could hear his voice, standing out from the millions of unfortunate.