Reign

By Johnathan Hamada

On the day of his parents' anniversary, Reign comes home to find his parents brutally murdered. Fueled by his lust for vengeance, Reign joins the Mafia in hopes that he'll find out who's responsible...

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Oct 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9780990699309

Book preview

anyone."

Reign

Reign

I want you to consider yourself cordially invited to a new world, a darker world.

Growing up, my mother would always tell me these ridiculously unbelievable stories about how she was one of the world’s finest demon slayers; for such a prestigious woman, I’d always wonder why she’d indulge herself in such nonsense. While she’d always claim that her real job was slaying demons, she was actually an individual who tasted recurring success in real estate. Alongside that particular fact, she, with the help of a close friend of hers, established a university that was able to give UCLA a run for its money. While my mother practically radiated success, her heart was always consecrated with warmth and humility. But, at the same time, during dire circumstances, she would display an animosity that would level armies.

To elaborate on this, not only did she have the attitude to never back down, my mother was a fourth-degree black belt in karate and an ecstatic practitioner of kendo, which is the same style of swordsmanship that the ancient samurai used. She’s so deadly that she was nicknamed The Reaper, in her high-school days. But, in spite of her rather ominous nickname, she’s a very lovely individual. She and I would often partake in community service whenever we had the time for it, and father would join in whenever his schedule allowed it.

Speaking of my father, he’s one of the most revered people in all of history; I’m not even exaggerating this; after all, he’s the big-shot who cured AIDS. Many people try to figure out how he did it, but no one knows the answer, not even me. Every time I’d ask, he’d always joke that it was vampire blood, so eventually I gave up trying to figure out what the antidote was. I’m sure he had his reasons for not telling me, and, in the end, I came to respect that.

In spite of his secrecy towards certain things, I’m best friends with my father. Since I was a young boy he trained me in several disciplines including Karate, Muay-Thai, Command Sambo, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, Boxing, Krav-Maga and Chinese kenpo. I never had any talent for martial arts, but my sheer interest and dedication in the arts made me one hell of a fighter.

I love my parents with all my heart, my soul and my mind, and to show them how much I appreciate them I had decided to do something special for their anniversary. Even though I already knew that they had something... romantic in store, I still wanted to contribute to their blissful occasion. I had what I believe to be a plethora of ideas, but I figured that anything I thought up wouldn’t be half as romantic as what they thought up.

That’s just how strong their chemistry was.

So, instead of buying them a gift, I decided that I’d simply pay for their expenses. Even though I was painfully aware of how much money it was going to cost me, I knew it was the right thing to do. After all, my parents, my beloved parents, had invested so much in me and never asked anything in return.

It was the least I could do for them.

The day of their anniversary was like an idyllic fairy tale. The air pollution seemed nonexistent, and sunlight constantly bled through the clouds, basking everything in a golden radiance. School flew by like a fleeting dream, and I got to spend most my day with my closest friend, Ximene, who has been so integrated in my life that I ended up falling in love with her. Till this day, she never reciprocated my feelings, but, even so, she’s remained a loyal, faithful and loving friend throughout my darkest nights and brightest days.

And, of course, I would always be sure to do everything in my ability to keep her heart safe and sound. She may not be a lover, but I’d gladly throw my life away for her if I had to.

You’d probably do that for anyone, she once told me. You’re a real sucker when it comes to helping people.

Look who’s talking, I would always sound so collected when I was around her, as if I were trying to come off as one of those cool guys that thought they could get any girl they want. In reality, the only reason I’m so lax when I’m around her is because of how strong our bond is.

I guess we’ve both got chronic hero syndrome, she told me. It’s just as much as a curse as it is a blessing.

We’re both helpful people, but no one can be a hero. And that was the end of that conversation. But in no way did our conversation end because of what I had said. It might’ve come off as a downer to you, or maybe not, but the only reason we had to end our little conversation was that we had reached her home. She lives in a penthouse suite, and even though it’s far away from where I live, since she’s such a good friend of mine I never minded walking her home. In fact, I’d always ask her if she’d like some company, to which she’d, in most cases, happily accept.

I hope you and your parents have a lovely day, she said before leaving. I’ll see you again soon, okay?

Later, Ximene, you have a wonderful day yourself, and tell your father I said hello.

She smiled before heading off into the rotating doors. After she was gone, I viewed the city landscape: tall buildings reached for the heavens; traffic flowed like a steady stream, without any beeping horns, or raging drivers to disrupt the peaceful ambience, and, to top it off, a cool, invigorating wind swept a quick hand across the city. L.A. had been awfully generous in terms of temperature; for the longest time, I could walk outside without feeling like I was jumping into an open fire.

I had decided to use a nearby ATM so I could withdraw money. I didn’t intend to make any pit-stops on the way, but I wanted to present my gift in solid cash. I had withdrawn over two grand and stuffed it into my wallet. I then proceeded to jog home, but, unfortunately for me, someone saw the amount of money I withdrew; because of that, that person decided to stalk me. I was completely aware of him following me, but I didn’t expect that he’d be able to keep up, let alone outrun me. So when he blocked my way and pulled out a knife and told me to hand over all my money, I was fairly surprised.

But, I wasn’t half as surprised as he was when he found out that I was the wrong kid to fuck with.

Luckily for him, I was in a hurry so I only broke his jaw—and a few ribs.

When I got home, spasms of pain shot up both my legs and I instantly knew why that happened: I forgot to stretch before I started jogging. It was an obvious mistake on my end, and I deserved the pain for forgetting basic training. Taking the moment to stretch gave my body time to cool down. While I was taking a little breather, I began to think about my parents’ history, and how they were both instrumental to each other.

I’d sometimes envy their relationship. It was such a perfect harmony of understanding, commitment and intimacy. What my parents possessed was a bond that people only thought existed within fairy tales or idealized, Hollywood movies. I would go into further detail, but I don’t feel like discussing my parents’ sex life.

I must’ve stood outside of my house for a while, because I noticed the shift in the shadows and lighting, but before I went in, I took a moment to be thankful for our beautiful home. Like so many of the other houses around, our house was defined by the richness in its aesthetics. But, honestly, the only reason we lived in that house was because my mother had inherited it from her mother; had she not been drawn to the house by the will of her beloved mother, she would have never cared to come here, but I’ve grown awfully fond of the place. There haven’t been many bad memories since we moved here; it was as if this place was a nursing home for endearing memories. Maybe that’s why I loved it so much.

I walked up to the door, outstretched my hand and grasped the doorknob with my left hand. Tingles of excitement crawled across my skin. I smiled, opened the door and yelled, Mom! Dad! I’m home!

No uncanny remark from father, and no overdramatic entrance from my mother. There was no music. The only sound I heard in that room was the perpetuating tick of our grandfather clock.

I hope I’m not intruding... I thought to myself, but then it hit me. No no. That can’t be right. If they were having sex, I would definitely be hearing something, There and then, paranoia sank its fangs into my neck, but I said to myself, Maybe they aren’t even home. But that can’t be right. The cars are here, I felt the paranoia slither through my bloodstream. And to top it off, the door was unlocked. No response. So, did someone break into our house?

The sunlight grew weaker with every passing second.

Or could it be that... she’s come home?

The clock kept ticking.

Whatever, I said to myself as I closed the door behind me. I’ll find out soon enough.

Just to be safe, I checked all the windows for signs of tampering, but there were no signs of breaking and entering. I started to wonder if we should’ve had a security system installed, but I knew my parents would disagree. When I had first pitched the idea, they told me that there’s no better security than martial arts. Remembering what they said brought me at ease. I had confidence that they could handle themselves. But, even so, I couldn’t purge the anxiety that I felt.

For the sake of seeing if she was home, I called her name, but there was still no answer.

What am I thinking? I said to myself. She’s not going to talk to me. She’s probably still angry about what happened, I shrugged my shoulders and headed for the staircase that led upstairs. Oh well.

Heading up the stairs, I felt an unusual shift in temperature; it felt as if someone had turned the thermostat up to its limit. It made me uneasy, but it was literally gone the next moment. I concluded that it must’ve been my imagination or something. I stopped for a moment, then I resumed my ascension.

When I reached the second story, I was met with the scent of an extravagant meal. The aroma wafted through the air and filled my body with good vibes. Naturally, I was drawn towards the kitchen because of the allure of satisfying meal. I wondered if my parents had decided to play it simple this year; a homemade meal and some one-on-one time in their bedroom, or maybe the bathroom, or anywhere they pleased since it was their house. I figured that, if they were going to play it simple, I’d leave so they could have the entire place to themselves.

But, even if they were keeping things simple, I had already decided that I’d give them a monetary gift, so I took my wallet out of my pocket, said goodbye to my dear Benjamin Franklins, walked into the kitchen and yelled, Happy Anni—

I never finished.

I had seen something that no one should ever have to bear witness to.

Both my parents were dead.

My father was slumped against the stove, sitting in a pool of his own blood. I didn’t bother asking if he was okay. I knew he was already gone. There’s no way he could’ve been alive with an annihilated chest cavity.

An intensely overwhelming surge of nausea punished my body. I felt the hot sting of bile run up my throat but I managed to keep it under control, but, when I saw what had happened to my mother I opened the floodgates, releasing a stream of bile that seared my throat.

With my stomach churning like a washing machine, I tried making sense of the situation, but my despair raised a giant wall, and I couldn’t climb over. In the end, I just stood there, paralyzed by shock, gripping my fist and feeling warm tears run down my cheek.

I was squeezing so hard that my hands began to bleed. The bleeding snapped me out of my daze, so I took out my phone and dialed 911.

Before the lady on the other line was even able to finish her formality, I said, I’ve got a serious emergency.

Not even ten minutes later, the authorities were outside. The forensic team made quick work of forming a perimeter and gathering evidence. Meanwhile, I was on one of our patios, gazing into the heavens and questioning a god I didn’t really believe in. An investigator approached me, asked me what had happened. I might’ve been crazy enough to kill someone at that point, but I knew she was only trying to help, so I answered to the best of my abilities.

Did your parents have any enemies? her way of speaking was very sweet, as if she were destined to be a nun of some sort.

Not that I know of, I said. My parents were on good terms with just about everyone they met. Even their competitors loved them.

Do you think they could’ve had conflicts that you weren’t aware of?

I guess it is possible, I leaned over the balcony and tried to appreciate the beautiful view, but seeing the world as it was only deepened my despair. But, if it were possible, then I would be of no help at all.

Were your parents or immediate family involved in any recent, suspicious activity?

No.

I’m sorry I can’t be of more help at the moment, sorrow threw its presence into her voice. But the L.A.P.D. is a force to be reckoned with, so I’m sure the person or people behind this will be brought to justice.

I really hope so, I said.

I’m going to leave my card on this table, if you happen to remember anything that might’ve slipped your mind or if you’re in need of someone to talk to, please give me a call.

Thank you for your service, I said. I turned back when she didn’t respond. She was already gone. I walked up to the table and picked up her card.

There was a tasteful thickness to the card, and it read: Jordyn J Newell.

Godspeed to you, detective Jordyn.

I stepped inside of my house and headed over to where my parents were murdered. There was an eccentric, blood-splatter specialist analyzing the crime scene. I call him eccentric because he was doing a kata, which in karate is a dance that develops technique and discipline, and while I respect karate I found it an unusual situation to be performing a kata. It aggravated me to some degree but when I saw the sheer amount of focus on his face, I calmed down.

I walked up to him and decided to strike a conversation.

The circumstance of your parents’ deaths is very unusual, he had this really husky, smoker’s voice. It appears that your father was stabbed to death by an unknown instrument; all we were able to determine was that his wound came from a brutal blow by a razor-sharp weapon. Another thing, he kept dancing around the perimeter of the scene, going around the stove, near the sink, around the dining table and back to me. Did you happen to notice the first-degree burn marks on his fists?

That comment threw me back. No, I said. How is that even possible?

I’m not sure, but he definitely went down fighting.

The thought of someone beating both my father and mother in a fight sent a chill down my spine.

As for your mother, he finished his kata and stood upright. It appears as if she had been caught in the blast radius of a fragmentation grenade, but there wasn’t any shrapnel in her body or anywhere else in the immediate area.

Couldn’t it have been a different sort of bomb then?

Maybe, though there should be at least a few pieces of evidence; it’s just so weird, he twirled around and came really close to me. He didn’t say anything for a moment and that’s when I took his features into account: tanned skin, tousled brown hair and cobalt eyes that hid years of brutal memories. After staring into each other’s eyes for what seemed like forever, he asked, Were your parents involved in anything that you found unordinary, even by the slightest amount?

My mother always told me she hunted demons, the moment those words left my lips, I threw away the thought that my mother was killed by a demon; there was just no way. But there’s just no way.

He backed up and said, You never know, kid. Had a good friend of mine who was one hell of a lumberjack; turns out he moonlighted as a serial killer, but since he only killed bad people I let him off the hook.

You’re... joking, right?

I wouldn’t make such a shitty joke. He turned to the blood. A lot of crazy things happen in life, kid. But, to be honest I don’t think it was a demon that killed your mother, either.

What conclusion have you come to?

His eyes became needles when he asked, How well do you know your father?

What are you talking about? My father is the closest friend I’ve ever had!

Didn’t I just tell you that a good friend of mine moonlighted as a serial killer? No matter how close you are to someone, it doesn’t mean you’ll know everything about them.

My father did mention he had a rough upbringing, I knew a lot about the struggles he endured, but I didn’t want to tell that to the man in front of me. But, a lot of people have rough upbringings. That doesn’t mean they’ll all get murdered.

What it does mean is they’ll have baggage, maybe their baggage will be more severe than others. He turned his back and headed for the stairs. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, kid, but you should seriously make a conscious effort to learn more about your father. Who knows, maybe you’ll find something that’ll surprise you.

I stood there, without anything left to say.

Damn, I had said soon after. I didn’t even get his name.

I ran down the stairs and headed outside.

Though the day had taken a turn for the absolute worst, it brought me an ounce of joy to see that there were no reporters lurking around. I love writing, but I wasn’t fond of certain journalists, especially those that had no empathy towards the situation of those they were reporting. Of course, I’m not saying all journalists are bad; I’m just saying that, in my experience, they can be pretty insensitive.

I could see the body bags being hauled into an ambulance. It was relieving to see how gentle my parents’ were being handled. I was looking around for the forensic guy, but I didn’t see him. I didn’t see the detective, either. A few random agents came up to me to express their sympathy, to which I humbly accepted.

After standing around for a few minutes, I saw the forensic guy, and a few more people, approach me.

We’re going to clean things up now, he said as he approached me. Also, he outstretched his hand. Give me your phone and I’ll give you my number. If we happen to find out anything more about the case, I’ll be sure that you’ll be the first person to know.

Isn’t that against protocol?

Some things in life are more important than following the rules, kid, I handed him my phone and he punched in his number. By the way, if you don’t mind me asking, what’ll you do from this point on?

I’ll figure it out, I said. I’m not the type of guy to plan ahead.

Well, you seem to have a pretty good head on your shoulders, but, I won’t say you’ll be fine. It’s tough, I know. Same fucking shit happened to me when I was younger, and let me tell you, taking down the man who killed my parents was the most satisfying thing to ever happen to me.

Do you mind me asking why he killed your parents?

He was infatuated with my mother, and he figured if he couldn’t have her, no one could.

That had me thinking. There’s a damn good chance that my mother had a few stalkers, but considering how confident she was of herself, there’s an even better chance that she wouldn’t bring it up because she never considered it a big deal...

Before he walked inside, I said, Hey, wait. I didn’t get your name.

He turned to me and said, My name is Rayne Dutro. That’s rain spelt R-A-Y-N-E... what’s your name?

My name’s Reign Kealoha Penber, and that’s rain spelt R.E.I.G.N. It’s a pleasure to meet you sir.

We shook hands.

Almost forgot, he said. "You’re not going to be staying home alone are you? Do you have any immediate friends or family you can talk to?’

I’ll figure something out, I said.

Well, if you need a place to stay, call me or Jordyn. I’m sure that girl would love to have some company over. As beautiful as she is, she’s a very lonely person.

"Why is that?’

It’s the life she chose to live. That was the last thing he said to me.

I was flattered that he was so concerned, but I felt that I would have been a burden if I asked for too much help; besides, I would have been moving out sooner or later, and I would have all the finances I need to live alone. At the same time, I knew that loneliness is never an easy thing to cope with, so I punched a few numbers in my phone and...

I didn’t call her immediately. I had to think of a way to break it to her. I knew we weren’t as close as either of us would have preferred to be, but we were literally the only family we had now. While we do have a relatively large family, they’re all, for the most part, scattered throughout the world. I didn’t want to move, but since I had never foreseen nor expected an outcome like this, I never even bothered asking my parents who she and I would go to if something had happened to them.

Who would get guardianship over us?’

I took a breath, did a few drills, as if I were getting ready for a fight. After I got the pump going, I took another moment to calm down and relax myself again. I didn’t want to be tense. I didn’t want to sound too freaked out over the phone, but I still didn’t exactly know what to say, so I figured I’d just freestyle it.

But she didn’t answer. It went straight to voicemail.

Maybe she ignored me, I thought to myself. Still, even if she ignored me I knew that at some point she would at least check her voicemail, so I decided to leave a message.

I said, Our parents are dead. I came home and they were murdered. I know you and I aren’t on good terms right now, but we should put our differences aside and come together. We shouldn’t be handling this alone. Please, I sounded as gentle as I possibly could. Come back home so we can figure things out.

I hung up the phone after that.

I took a few steps forward and began with my inner monologue:

Figure things out, huh?

What the hell are we supposed to do now?

I know I’m not okay.

I know she’s not either.

And, on top of that we still have our lives to live. We still have school and other things to take into consideration.

Am I scared?

I don’t even know.

I’m so lost right now.

Come on, don’t get so down. There’s always something optimistic even among the most terrible of times. It’ll be good fuel for writing!

It’ll be good fuel all right... but it’ll end up being poison for me, too...

Remember, Ximene: every dark night has a brighter day.

That’s right, I said to myself, this time out loud. Things will get better... it might get a lot worse before it gets better, but things will get better...

We’re all done, kid, Rayne said. He and his men were walking outside, heaving some strange cleaning equipment. I saw that one of them was a photographer and she had a giant camera lens width of a bazooka.

Thanks for everything, Rayne.

Keep your head up, kid, and give me a call if things get too tough for you all right?

Will do. You have a goodnight.

You try to do the same, kid. I know it’s hard, but you’ll get there.

Those hopeful words made me feel much better.

Later that night, I couldn’t bring myself to eat anything. It didn’t feel right. I tried doing my homework, thinking that it could take my mind off of what happened earlier, but my mind couldn’t function properly. I sat alone, in the darkness of my empty home.

Rivers of moonlight burrowed through the windows, igniting everything in a pale blue glow. It was beautiful in a sad sort of way. My gaze wandered to the paintings hung up on the walls, which were all based off of Maui, so there were cinematic sunsets up in Haleakala, barreling waves at beaches like Big Beach and Jaws, and lush, lively landscapes that were abundant on the island.

We’d occasionally travel to Maui together as a family, something we could never do again.

DAMN IT. I said to myself. Why? Why did this have to happen?

The rivers of moonlight became thin strands.

Calm down, I said. Freaking out won’t do any good for you. But what else am I supposed to do? Look at me, I stared at my hands. Asking questions when no one is around to answer them.

I got up, headed to my room, stripped off my clothes, headed into the bathroom and turned the shower on. A steady stream of water fell from the showerhead. I stepped inside and allowed my mind to drift away in warm respite.

How well do you know your father?

The memory of his words anchored my mind back to reality.

While lathering myself in bodywash, I said, My father and I were best friends. He’d always share so much of his life with me.

No matter how close you are to someone, it doesn’t mean you’ll know everything about them.

He’s got a damn good point, I applied shampoo to my hair and vigorously lathered until I felt my head heavy with product. I ran my fingers through my hair as I rinsed it all out. I scrubbed to make sure none of the shampoo would stick, then I turned off the shower, dried off, went into my room and slipped on the clothes I’d wear for the next day.

I sat at the edge of my bed. The strands of moonlight danced across the floor of my room, then faded into black.

There are only two people I can think of that knew my father better than I did. The first, and most obvious, would be my mother, so the second would be—

Just then, in the silence of my room, my phone began to ring. The number had no caller I.D. My heart began to pick up speed. I felt uneasy about answering, but something deep inside of me was screaming, telling me that I should answer. The phone kept ringing.

Without further hesitation, I answered the phone, placed it beside my right ear and said, Hello?

You sound older, the voice was vaguely familiar, but I didn’t exactly know who was talking on the other side. Frank always said you were more mature than most kids your age, but a kid should never have to grow up too fast.

Is this, I was going on a whim when I finished with, Lad?

Sorry if the caller I.D. put you off. I wanted to secure the line before I called you.

Why?

Your parents’ funeral is to be held at the Angelus Funeral Home, this Friday at exactly nine-thirty-three in the morning.

Sensing that he was about to end the call, I said, Wait! How did you know?

We’ll talk about it in person, kid. Until then, try to keep your shit together.

And that was it.

Friday was in two days. I thought about skipping school, but I wanted to go in hopes that I would see her there. I’m sure Lad contacted or had planned to contact her, but I wanted to go just in case he couldn’t reach her.

I jumped onto my bed, rested my head on my softest pillow, which happened to be a gift from Ximene, and said, Friday, huh? I’ll be looking forward to it. In the meantime, I’m sure some good company will lighten up my mood.

I fell asleep, expecting the following day to be a great day.

Too bad I had no idea how wrong I was.

2

After an absolutely dreamless night, my appetite acted as my alarm clock. I woke up, sometime before sunshine poured through my windows. I was happy for that, because I knew then I had plenty of time to kill before I headed off to school, so I decided to satisfy my hunger by cooking up something to eat.

Heading upstairs, I had remembered that my parents were cooking something before they were...

Anyway, I didn’t even notice it before but they had cooked chicken parmesan, my mother’s favorite dish. I couldn’t help getting sad at the sight. But, regardless of how I was feeling at the time, I actually managed to march forward. I cleaned up the meal, washed the dishes, and prepared myself some bacon, eggs, toast, and a couple pancakes on the side.

That day, I had eaten my first meal alone.

I might’ve known my way around the kitchen, but the meal felt so bland, so empty.

Still, I managed to eat every bit of it, refusing to let my emotions prevent me from keeping my body healthy.

After cleaning up, I looked at the time. It was, to my surprise, already seven in the morning. I must’ve miscalculated the time. I knew I wouldn’t make it on foot and I didn’t want to be late so I decided to take my father’s Mercedes Benz.

Before I left, I had to pack my bags, brush my teeth, wash my face and double check the house to make sure no one could break in.

Speaking of breaking in, I said to myself. There were no signs of forced entry... so does that mean that the person who killed my parents knew them personally?

I called detective Jordyn. She picked up immediately.

Top of the morning to you, hers was a pleasant voice. This is Detective Jordyn speaking. How may I be of assistance?

Jordyn, it’s me, Reign, the kid you met yesterday.

Oh, her sweet voice acquired a solemn tone. What’s up, kid?

"I need to know: have you checked either one of my parents’ phones?’

I see you’ve deduced the forced entry thing, she said, and I knew already I wasn’t going to like what she