by Namita Singh
direction, unafraid and unaffected. It’s at that time the Ninth Realm council members start moving out. Pleve is the first to move out, followed by Anastasia and the rest. They shove the therians who are standing as spectators and come to stand right behind Ethan.
“It’s a very good thing you’ve turned up on your own.” Pleve growls as soon as he gets the chance, “Not that your early appearance is going to get you in good graces. You have some guts-”
“Get out of our way.” Neal interrupts, his tone calm.
Ethan, who is standing in the front, blinks at the underlying command in Neal’s sentence. Pleve bristles in the background, as the rest remain mute. I myself stare at him astounded. This is so not the time to act antagonistically against these mongrels. I gently tug at Neal’s hand, but he doesn’t spare me any attention.
“Move.” Neal says again, stepping up to Ethan.
“You watch your tone.” Ethan says quietly, his voice cold. “Vaticinator or not, you’ve no entitlement to order us around.”
“Don’t I?” Neal boringly replies, “Step aside.” He repeats.
I don’t know what’s gotten into Neal that he is challenging them so openly. All I know is that it has heat crawling up my neck, reaching up to my ears. Even the serenity offered by Neal’s hold is failing at curbing my awkwardness. This is probably more embarrassing than those therians shouting about Neal’s return.
“I’ll step aside.” Ethan replies in the same cold tone, “Maybe it’ll be better if we sit inside. After all, we do need to quetch you for your actions. To tell you how insufferable you’re to kill one of our rulers. And even inform you of the unfortunate fate that you’ll be facing because of it. And let’s not forget about your partner’s fate, who has been helping you. So, yes, we should-”
“That’s quite better, no doubt about that.” Neal interrupts again. He looks bored out of his mind as he looks around the shocked faces. “But from what I have decided,” he looks at Ethan, “that’s not what’s going to happen. And if you want to keep that big head of yours on top of your body, you better step aside right now.”
Ethan glares at Neal, his eyes wide. He looks indignant, but standing so close I can see the flicker of doubt passing in his eyes.
“Are you threatening us?” Pleve snaps, stepping closer behind Ethan, “You kill our occultist and then you show up on our door with big words!”
“First of all,” Neal casually adjusts his hold on my wrist, “you have no proof that I killed your occultist. So, keep your words in check. And second of all,” Neal checks the time on his wrist watch, “If you don’t want to face something really unfortunate, you should step aside within three minutes.”
Again, shadows of doubt falls on the faces in front of us. But they also continue to glare at my partner who returns his own challenging stare.
“You heard the boy.” A thundering vice sounds from the top of the stairs.
Everyone turns to see Mikhail Lichinsky standing at the edge of the stairs. Father is standing beside him. Through my shocked stance, I manage to feel slight reprieve at their sight. Both of them look stoic, making it difficult for me to interpret their take at mine and Neal’s sudden appearance.
Pleve glares at Mikhail from the bottom of the stairs. His face becomes an abnormal red color as he starts shouting, “You have no right to act the boss of us! You pretentious fucks!”
“Actually, we do.” Neal replies, as calm as ever. He checks his watch again, “Two minutes.” He says monotonously.
Ethan steps aside. He has taken on an expressionless mask, settling at only coldly staring at Neal. Pleve looks at Ethan as if he is insane.
“These are criminals!” Pleve shouts, he looks around at everyone, stressing his glance at Ethan. The latter is still glaring at Neal. Pleve turns towards us, “I won’t let you walk by like you own this place! You are to be kept as a prisoners till our Occultists come. They’ll serve you right!”
“One minute.” Neal continues in a monotone, now boringly gazing at Pleve.
“Let him come by, Pleve.” Mikhail’s thundering voice comes again, “As much as I hate your guts, I still don’t want them to be spilled out on the front porch.”
“And we will attend the meeting with your Occultists.” Neal adds, drawling out the words ‘meeting’ and ‘your’. “There’d be no point for you to lose an organ.” Neal lazily glances at his watch again, “Half a minute.”
Pleve bristles, his face going from red to purple. I cannot believe he is still settling on seething at us. I have to give it to his determination.
“Let him go.” Ethan says quietly, his voice cold and hard. “He will pay for it either way.”
Somehow, Ethan saying that calms Pleve somewhat. Still looking highly indignant and glaring at us, he steps aside and stands behind Ethan. He makes his disgust for us known by glowering at us. Ethan’s antagonism is subtle as he coldly stares. His gaze doesn’t even flicker away from Neal. The rest watch on in shocked silence as the scene unfolds.
Sighing quietly, Neal starts walking through the aisle that forms. He drags me along with him. We climb the stairs, the eyes of all of therians burning holes in us as we move. We reach the top. Father simply nods at us, giving nothing away. Mikhail is however staring past us, at the crowd of therians huddled at the foot of the stairs of the porch. I am in no doubt that his eyes are trained at Pleve and Ethan.
Neal turns around, a look of sudden realization crossing his face as if he forgot to say something, “Oh, and,” he begins, looking at Pleve and Ethan, “Just so you guys know, I am aware of what is going to happen. The only thing you should be aware of is to make sure to keep out of our way. Else….well, else you’ll see for yourself what I have kept in store for you guys.”
“You bastard.” Pleve snaps, glaring and panting as if he cannot wait to punch Neal in the face. Well, he most probably cannot. “You little fuck, you think you can threaten us!”
“Keep saying that.” Neal replies calmly, “You’re only provoking me more.”
The threat is not lost on anyone. Pleve bristles some more, spewing profanities under his breath, but intelligently doesn’t say anything else.
Mikhail loudly suspires, gaining some attention, “We’ll be there at the meeting when the Occultists come.” His voice is firm, loud and authoritative. Even Pleve shuts up and listens, wide eyed. “Till then we’ll be in my room and I don’t want interruptions or objections-”
“I object!” Pleve thunders, “You people are incriminated! You don’t have the liberty of a free man right at this moment!”
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that?” Neal mocks. That does make Pleve bristle some more, but it also effectively shuts him up.
“I am afraid I agree with Dr. Pleve here.” Anastasia speaks from the crowd. “According to the rules, Neal and Josh have to remain under surveillance till the visitation by the Occultists.”
“My grandson and his partner have returned home after three weeks.” Mikhail says, “I am quite sure a couple of hours with their family in privacy are not going to jeopardize the rules of this Realm.”
“Or I can just make you guys agree.” Neal says, nonchalantly glancing at Pleve and Anastasia, “Choice is yours.”
Anastasia fumbles at the not so subtle threat. She glances at Pleve from the corner of her eyes. The latter is hatefully glaring at us.
A tense silent moment stretches. It is broken by Mikhail as he says in a shockingly gentle tone, “I promise our presence in front of the Occultists. You have my word. All I ask is some private time with my family.”
Anastasia hesitates, glancing around at her peers. Pleve continues to glare.
Surprising us, Ethan is the one who speaks, “Let them be.” He says, “You better keep your word, Mikhail. We don’t want to encounter unnecessary treacherous schemes.”
“You won’t encounter anything…” Mikhail begins, glancing at Neal once, “till you keep out of our way. All I ensure you is our presence during the meeting. Rest, jus
t like Neal, I’ll advice you to keep out.”
Ethan looks like he is going to say something, but he settles on coldly glaring at us, his eyes lingering on Neal for a far longer time than I would like.
“Come on.” Mikhail mutters, turning and going back inside. Taking in the faces of the therians on the bottom of the stairs, Father, Neal and I turn and follow Mikhail. Once inside, Neal lets go of my hand. The gravity of the situation that just unfolded dawns on me as his hold vanishes. I remain quiet, stunned as I follow them. Shakily, I run my left hand through my hair.
This is not the way I had wanted things to go. The last thing I want is for anyone to be against Neal. Even with the murder of our Occultist on his head, I had been hoping for clemency. Hoping that by some miracle, the people of this Realm will stand by us against the Occultists. My optimism has no roots. But Neal’s dauntless show has given a total one-eighty degrees turn to my expectations. His actions stunned me so much that I couldn’t even think of countering Neal; to stop the audacious tirade.
I accusingly look at my left hand, wondering if I am going to be mute and incapable every time Neal holds my hand. I turn sideways, glancing at Neal who is walking beside me. Did he hold my hand to comfort me? Ease my worrisome thoughts? Or he held my hand knowing that it’ll forbid me to form any quick reaction to his actions?
But most of all, had he really gone ahead and envisaged the future, on the basis