Circumstantial Fortune

By Cassandra Mason

Circumstantial Fortune is an intimate, disjointed examination of the messy political and personal lives of those who rule Meraki and Lacuna, the last two nations still standing above the ever-rising sear. Meraki and Lacuna are two disparate islands, one ten times larger than the other, both created and sustained by old magic that has, to date, kept the worst of the outside world at bay. The turmoil within that ends up enveloping every character is explained by the life of an Other named Joseph Inganno, a shifter who can exist at will as his Other self - a massive grizzly. Joseph is made a General at an impossibly young age, and though the novel begins with a look at his later adulthood, it is not long before readers become acquainted with the idea that mistakes made long ago, left uncorrected, have a way of seeking him out. Joseph's younger years were both privileged and punctuated by trauma, and decisions made in his youth reverberate far into his future, affecting anyone close to him. Circumstantial Fortune exposes Joseph's faults, but also the cruel coincidences of his life and the arduous journeys of his twenties, and the men he loved throughout it all. Book One of the Last Call Series sets the scene for trouble from the past that threatens to destroy their slim chance of a future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jan 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781734571714

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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

ISBN 978-1-73457-170-7 (softcover)

ISBN 978-1-73457-171-4 (ebook)

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1:

Meeting

1.5

Purchase

Chapter 2:

Guests

2.5

Disappointment

Chapter 3:

Trials

3.5

Acknowledgement

Chapter 4:

Coincidence

4.5

Envy

Chapter 5:

Exile

5.5

Separation

Chapter 6:

Loss

6.5

Intrusion

Chapter 7:

Attempt

Book Two Preview: Coincidental Fate

Dramatis Personae (Character List)

An Index Of Other (Magical) Creatures,

As They Are Commonly Known

Acknowledgements

Prologue

*

She had been there for over twenty years. In her rare sober moments, the Progenitor wondered if she would live to see more of her life spent in Meraki than in her first home. Most days, she could scarcely believe she had once lived elsewhere. Many days she wouldn’t have believed it at all, she would have thought it all to be a fever dream, if it weren’t for her reminders. She was lucky they were of the substances that they were, or they would not have survived her becoming. Just a stone and a ring, gold with five small round diamonds embedded within it. The stone was unique, native to her home, though she had never found them particularly attractive. Now, she would hold it in the palm of her hand and just stare at it, sometimes for hours. She willed herself to link it with where she had seen them before, the numerous memories of her first forty years before they were lost forever to the haze of her abilities. What made her strong, what saved her twenty years ago, when her forty-year-old and very human self was brought to Meraki, was also what threatened to cut her off from her last fragments of humanity.

This worried her. And what worried her worried the Undead, the vampires who had long ago retired from the earth altogether to dwell far beneath the sea, centuries before the humans destroyed their planet. There was a pair who had begun them, dark fathers of the Undead who had come to Meraki’s southern shore entirely on accident. They were merely a vampire and his Were guardian, disguised as Italian explorers. What they found was the paradise the vampire, Pietro, had been searching for since the Rome of centuries past where he had come to be. Puzo, his Were who had been with him since Rome, was turned, and the pair retired beneath the sea, slowly adding to their ranks as they saw fit, keeping a careful watch over their kind.

When the Progenitor came to Meraki, Pietro and Puzo had already been there for centuries. They and their progenies patrolled the perimeters of both islands with due diligence, both dark fathers sustaining the lot, emerging once or twice a month to feast on unfortunate Merakish who kept close to the shores. It cost Meraki and Lacuna their fishing industries, their navies, and the love of the sea common to all island nations, but the trade was worth it. It kept any and all colonizing invaders away. No ship or boat could near either island without Undead, with their perfect hearing and eyesight, from knowing, and stopping them, even during the day. Pietro knew better than to let anyone onto these shores, to allow any foreign powers that thought to extend their destructive benevolence to either island to learn of their presence. That is, beyond those he deemed worthy. He was no fool, he knew better than to leave a few hundred thousand people isolated onto themselves generation after generation. He also knew disease was the most threatening thing any of these intrepid explorers could bring with themselves. Who better to inspect and ascertain if each ship, each person upon it, was worthy of admittance than those who were no longer capable of falling ill? At first, they would halt intruders, and keep them at bay until night, when they and their first-generation children were free to crawl aboard. They would keep them for as long as necessary, taking their time to see what new food stores, literature, weapons, and overall technologies they could find aboard. Those deemed worthy were taken for further quarantine on a Lacuni outpost. Those who survived the quarantine were distributed to either island, depending on their usefulness and age.

But some of those taken to quarantine never made it past the outpost. Though their guards had changed from Undead to human, their new captors were no more feeling or articulate than the tides used to drown those who would not do to come within their borders. They used simple devices, large stone pillars with a hollow center, open at the top which stood empty for part of the day and filled with seawater for another, to cleanse the newcomers they did not want, those they could certainly not trust to leave. The Progenitor was one of those sent for cleansing.

She had presented no signs of illness, but six confirmed cases of malaria were aboard the vessel that bore her to Meraki, so it could not be put to chance. A single soul aboard was allowed to go to quarantine, a week-old baby, who had left the homeland of his parents still in the womb. He was spared because infants were so rare, and because of his extreme youth he had never left his mother’s tiny cabin and was likely unexposed. When he left quarantine six months later, he was given to an enormously rich, childless old man who would name him Demetri.

The Progenitor, damned by circumstance, came into her unique power when the terror of death was upon her. She split the stone chamber in two, and instead of saving any of the souls beside her, she killed them all instantly.

What happened after that even the lady is unsure. But that first night, as she walked about the surface of the ocean, testing what she felt, what she seemed capable of, all that worked through her mind and nerves, she met Pietro.

Power of this magnitude was going to be felt by one such as Pietro Capesivari, even miles beneath the sea. He sought her out as soon as the sun had set. She was still dressed as she had been for the weeks the Undead kept her ship under siege. It was Pietro who would introduce her to the thought that she could go on land and seek out new clothes, as well as all they could have to offer her. It was Pietro who, when they were born, told the Progenitor where to find the Chosen Few. That they only came about due to the Progenitor existing near Meraki was the general speculation of both countries. She insisted on meeting them, and then their children when they came about. By that point, she was not in a position to be told no.

She lived on a small vacation island by herself for almost two decades. It is unknown how her son came to be, if he was born naturally to her, late in life to say the least, or if he was adopted. In either case, he was a black-haired Merakish boy with the most powerful and singular Other ever to exist for a mother. All that is known is that he was, one day, to be introduced to the children of the Chosen Few, who feature so heavily in the following work.

Meraki,

The Academy’s 17th Year

*

Chapter 1:

*

Meeting

*

From the start of his liaison with General Inganno, Derek had been proud of himself. Years later, Derek enjoyed telling anyone the story of the night they met, which, naturally, was also the first night they slept together. Only one person ever dared to ask Joseph Inganno how it went, and he’d done so out of mere politeness rather than genuine curiosity, as Kane remembered that night well for his own reason; he had spent the first half of it nagged by the worry that Joseph was about to accidentally cause his own death.

It was the first night that, after years of absence, Joseph participated in the fights. When the tradition of these informal yet organized tournaments was first established, the General’s presence was expected. But, as the Academy grew in size and scope, as he readied the campus for each great transition, he made less time for attending the Friday night events.

The older students, at least the ones who had trained under Kane or Rachede, treated fight night as sacred. The larger portion of the crowd went for the many supplemental attractions such spectators drew in. Even citizens and laborers from the small villages near the Academy would come to place bets or hawk their wares. The undercurrent of money changing hands for matters other than gambling was strong on these nights. Joseph chose to ignore it.

He let outsiders attend. They needed a crowd who lived nearby of their own accord and weren’t beholden to the General. He needed them coming and going freely. Joseph knew how valuable openness from the start would be for the Academy. There were too many strikes against him; he didn’t need to take in hundreds of wayward Native children and then lock himself inside his palace (as they called it) with them. There was enough talk and caustic speculation as it was.

The fights accomplished their initial goal of training military students in an environment truer to real life than the dojo Kane and Rachede meticulously maintained. They also gave many boys the pinnacle of excitement for their week, which Joseph counted as a fringe benefit. He didn’t want the students growing bored with their isolated military school life.

Then, there were the students who regarded fight night as their busiest workday. As much as he strove to dismiss them from his thoughts, Joseph was more than aware of those who peddled drugs and which kind, those who brought in girls, and those who sought to sell themselves. None were as invisible as they thought. So, it would be wrong to assume that Joseph didn’t have a vague impression of what he was working with when he approached Derek that night.

When he told Kane this story, he blamed the elation and testosterone of triumphing against Rachede. This was something that, ordinarily, Joseph would not have been capable of on his own. Not anymore, not sober. The sweetlace his body and mind needed to function was a double-edged fate, as it gave him an edge a shifter his age should no longer possess, but he deeply felt the days he did not or could not have it. Fortune has to take a man as an especial pet to give him both the ability to process a magical plant, and the means to always have it at his disposal. He wished he could blame the sweetlace for everything that night, but he hadn’t used any. He had remembered what night it was, what anniversary that made it, and Joseph knew he had to stay sober.

One unprecedented behavior begat another and Joseph went to the fights, then he accepted when Rachede jokingly challenged him. Both had been standing near the sparring students, observing, offering insight when necessary, keeping their arms crossed, but mostly being sure to stay away from each other. The students were showing more animation than usual, and Rachede knew it was because of the General’s long-missed presence.

Something, an instinct he would have done well to ignore, prompted Rachede to ask the General if he was there to fight. He smiled as he did it, his teeth flashed against his blue-black skin. Something about seeing those razor-sharp incisors made Joseph respond without thinking. The full moon was in two days, and here he was, agreeing to spar with one of the only Merakish Were.

Joseph had always felt a little undermined by Rachede, in part because he was the only person he’d ever met who was darker than himself, but also because Rachede was the only other male shifter at the Academy. For this reason, they tried to avoid crossing paths, which wasn’t the simplest task given that Rachede was a senior staff member and the longest standing instructor besides Kane.

Rachede was formidable. It took everything Joseph had to win. He knew well enough that that would not have been the case a few years before. During their third round, he noticed many of those standing nearest to them had fallen silent. They were worried. And, had the pair of them not been Other, their injuries would have been catastrophic.

At one point, Rachede swept Joseph’s feet from beneath him, causing the kind of painfully loud crash that happens when a frame that large and broad is laid out. Instead of hesitating to see if the General was all right, suddenly Rachede was in mount position. Just then it became clear to the now horrified spectators that the General couldn’t breathe. But a second later, with one leg, the General dislodged his aggressor and sent him flying to the other side of the ring, though it seemed impossible a man so large could be so flexible. Rachede couldn’t stop himself, and he slammed into some of those brave enough to stand close by. They stood back, in awe, as Rachede got up and tied his dreadlocks back and out of the way; a kick to the chest like that from someone with the General’s strength would have been fatal for any of them. Rachede and Joseph swayed a little as they watched each other, but neither would be the one to back down.

Throughout the entire fight, Kane was circling around, keeping an eye on the fighters while frantically trying to reach Joseph telepathically. It was difficult on a normal day, even more this close to the full moon. With Joseph as keyed up as he was, and so engrossed in his current activity, Kane knew even someone with his abilities had little hope of success at distracting him. All he could do at the moment was crowd control and stick around to make sure that Joseph didn’t break a leg or hip.

But soon Kane considered that he was perhaps wrong to doubt his leader and benefactor because, in the end, he did manage to put down a much younger beast, and one who had clearly not been willing to throw the fight out of the sense that no one should be able to best the General. Joseph, with complete good nature, took Rachede’s hand and held it up like a prize fighter’s when they were done. Kane heard from Joseph’s mind, now that it was relaxed and exhausted, that he could have easily lost.

Right after he won, Joseph was flooded by the need to be alone. The attention, at first pleasant, grew oppressive. The ring was mopped, and sawdust spread before another fight began. This time, only Master Rachede walked the perimeter, seemingly unscathed as he critiqued his students in his booming baritone over the clamor of the crowd.

Joseph wove his way through the dense spectators nearest the action. They parted as he moved through, but not as much as they would have if they’d been in uniform, and if they hadn’t all been drinking and smoking. Joseph smelled marijuana from a few different sources, and enticed as he was, he knew it wouldn’t bode well for the image he tried to maintain.

Just as he was twice-over convincing himself that it wasn’t worth the risk – that he should just accept Brigone’s judgment when he sent her out to buy weed – he heard a voice, somehow isolated, low and smooth, over and through all the other voices. He heard it above the shouting and cheering and haggling, the lamenting and swearing and seducing. His eyes searched for the source of that voice in the crowd, and they set on Derek.

Derek was a medical student by day, but his nights were rarely spent studying. Sometimes he himself worked. Joseph knew all of that, but he couldn’t quite place his name. Derek had been in the first wave of students who were admitted into the Academy before first meeting the General. Kane had been the one to handle Derek’s acquisition and introduction nearly twelve years before.

Derek was at his business, as usual for fight night. He would take a few girls, ones who’d come to him because of his reputation for non-violence – and his natural inclination to not want to fuck them –he would make their arrangements for them, and collect, for a percentage. This wasn’t a difficult task for Derek; many of his weed and trac customers came to him with their other cravings as well.

The plan for Derek, as always, was to leave after the last girl had been booked. He was anxious to enjoy a rare night of freedom. Fight nights gave Lao, Derek’s instructor and overlord, the leave to abandon the Academy. There were so few medical students at that time, it meant Derek was the only soul present on his floor on those nights.

Once the last girl was off, Derek began looking around the sweaty crowd wondering when he could leave. He was exhausted, and despite the following day being one of designated rest, he was going to have to spend it hard at work. Derek had a great deal to catch up on in the Greenhouse if he didn’t want Lao discovering his recent laxity. He was thinking keenly of the weed he left squirreled away in his room as the crowd swelled and rippled, and the ring of cheering fans closed in on the sparring pair. From the organized chant echoing back to him, Derek assumed the match was nearly over. There was only one more after this, then the majority of the crowd would dissipate, wearied by the previous week.

It was right after he told a would-be customer that he was all out of merchandise for the evening, that Derek felt someone walk up beside him. Despite how packed with bodies the ballroom was, it was impossible not to notice something so tall and broad coming in close. Derek turned and had to look up to meet the eyes of what he assumed was a new customer.

Derek’s jaw clenched when he realized who it was, but he remained silent. He couldn’t stop from looking to both sides, as if he wondered if anyone else was seeing this. The General was the sort of man you knew of, not one you knew. He only made time for the most senior military students. But here he was, consorting with the medical student who sold drugs leftover from apothecary class and hustled wayward country girls.

Joseph asked him one short question. Instead of answering, Derek tried to read his eyes; their expression had noticeably changed. Now, they seemed more cautiously hopeful than imploring. Without considering much more, Derek slowly nodded. Then the General said something that Derek couldn’t catch. The fight happening at the other end of the room was drawing to a close, and the crowd shouted in unison each time a blow landed. One opponent seemed to be massacring the other.

No one noticed the two of them leave.

Derek never looked back or spoke to the General the entire walk to his student’s apartment. They worked their way through the converted ballroom, away from the noisy warmth of a young, drunk crowd, into the laundry one floor below, through its necessary fire exit, and finally out into the enveloping night. Once outside, Derek took a short path to the exterior wall of the Greenhouse, which rose gigantic, glassy and jagged, at the east wing of the Academy.

Being one of the oldest medical students who had yet to graduate, Derek had a tiny but comfortable student apartment near Lao’s offices. He often chose to rent a room in the seedy, subterranean part of the Academy with the other drug dealers because he couldn’t stand being so near Lao’s dictator’s gaze. It was also infeasible to carry on any sort of sexual encounter with Lao so close.

Joseph realized this as well, and while he had asked Derek to lead the way, he had a moment of mistrust when he was led straight into Lao’s jurisdiction. Right when Joseph was about to ask where Derek’s teacher was, as they trod right toward his dwelling, he saw the dark, cold expanse of the unlit Greenhouse and knew Lao must be with his family. He wondered if Lao let his students know where he went, in case there was an emergency and he was needed.

Joseph didn’t bother asking. There was something closed off about this one, about the way he communicated more with his face than his words. Joseph didn’t want to weary him with questions, not when there were far better things that they could exert themselves doing.

It wasn’t until the door shut behind them and was locked, and he lit two lamps, that Derek had the nerve to turn around and face him. Derek had never considered how strikingly handsome the General was, because no one dared to look right at him for that long. Joseph tended to inspire fear rather than any of the other, more erotic, emotions. Derek had expended all of his energy trying to hide how he trembled the walk back to his apartment. He was still too surprised, and off his guard, lost in how he was about to feel those huge, rough hands touch him, to be caught up over who he was with.

Even at this moment, as the two regarded one another with what had to be called expectation, Joseph could not place his name. Joseph glanced down at his hands, as unsure of when he had last slept with a perfect stranger as he was of when they had last shook with anticipation. Slowly, he approached Derek until they were standing near enough to feel the other. Joseph Inganno had never done such a thing before, approach a student with illicit intent. He’d vowed to Kane years before that he would never do so and had demanded that Kane swear likewise.

But Derek was older than the average student and had technically graduated from the general school; he was a medical graduate student, solely Lao’s responsibility. And Joseph had won against Rachede on his first night back. It made what they were about to do seem a fitting part of the rest of his extraordinary evening.

As he and Derek undressed each other, Joseph was already hoping that if Derek told anyone about this night, that he was at least kind with the details. Joseph wanted to enjoy this moment, before whatever was to come, no matter how good. But impatience won out, and he couldn’t stop his hands from turning Derek’s face up towards his own. Derek seemed to only require a little encouragement.

Joseph had always been a passionate man, or so he liked to think, but it’d been such a long time, he didn’t trust certain abilities he’d taken for granted in the earlier stages of his life. There was a moment of genuine confusion when Derek balked with what could have been delight or horror when he first felt Joseph, felt the sheer size of him. When Joseph asked him if he was all right, Derek couldn’t stop himself from expressing his worry. Never in his life had Derek thought this was a problem one could really have, that someone could potentially be too big, but here he was.

But Joseph had been hearing that, or something like it, for most of his life, from both men and women. He knew what to say. Tell me when to stop. It was a suggestion that sounded like it meant he was about to start. They were already so conveniently on Derek’s bed. But when he spoke, he saw Derek flinch, and that gave him pause. It’s all right, he whispered, slowly sliding away while trying not to concentrate on how hard he was and how near to him he was. We don’t have to.

Derek’s heart was racing when he pulled Joseph back towards himself. Taken by surprise, his massive frame was easier to move, Derek grabbed his broad shoulders and used his knees to pull Joseph’s waist towards his own. This time, Derek kissed him with a boldness Joseph had not been expecting. Joseph had no time to react or pull away.

The only thought that managed to cross Joseph’s mind was that he couldn’t do this for long, and that worried him. He didn’t think he could stand the humiliation of under-performing, not when the rest of the night had been so perfectly what he needed. As soon as he felt the pangs of no going back, he moaned in a distinct way and was overwhelmed by the urge to bite Derek’s neck. He fought it at first, but then again felt himself start to nuzzle into him. Joseph almost let his teeth break skin when Derek asked if he was going to come. Responding that he was close, so close, shifted Joseph’s focus and brought him there. Derek would never forget that sound. He would come to love it, the sound that built in Joseph’s throat out of nowhere as if his surprise matched the depth and profundity of his orgasm.

After, Derek moved as if in discomfort, and Joseph realized he was balancing too much of his weight on him. He grimaced as they moved apart. Joseph couldn’t remember the last time sex had left his nerves feeling so raw. It was then that he realized this was the first time he’d had sex sober in nearly fifteen years. In a way, this had been his first real sex since David. But he didn’t want to think about that as Derek cautiously moved to rest against his chest.

It didn’t last long, but for a few moments, the two laid in Derek’s bed together not speaking, one of Joseph’s hands slowly running over Derek’s back.

The lamps Derek had lit were burning low when Joseph was searching for an article of clothing and turned to see that Derek had somehow completely dressed already. Joseph wanted to make a comment about it being evident that Derek did that a lot, but he refrained and went for a more important question instead. He realized he should have asked beforehand. What’s your name? I know you’re one of Lao’s, but he never refers to any of you by name.

Derek didn’t want to know what terms Lao did use to reference his students. But when he told Joseph his name, he never thought he’d see a man so swarthy turn so pale. They were standing apart, the General arranging himself to look like he’d never undressed in the first place, and then his hands froze mid-action. "Derek Parks?" The General studied him intently, doing the math and realizing his grave mistake with a sinking heart.

Derek nodded slowly, watching Joseph with his brows a little furrowed. Joseph looked like he was thinking about a problem that had no beginning, middle, or end. Twice he looked away then turned back to Derek as if he was going to say something, but then thought to stop himself.

Lao knows that you’re gay? Joseph managed, at long last.

Derek’s eyebrows shot up. How is that important? It made little sense to Derek that this would be what confounded the General.

Joseph wouldn’t have been so blunt had he not been under duress. He realized that Derek couldn’t possibly know the truth, that Lao had gone against what Joseph asked of him. Lao had been told to make the Parks boy noticeable: make it so I will know for sure who he is on sight. Those had been the written instructions after Kane admitted Derek and then deemed him unworthy of a military career.

Joseph had been indisposed at the time, but he knew that one day, after he found the other one, he would need Derek Parks. Until then, at least Derek’s life at the Academy was a significant improvement over the conditions Kane had found him in. But now that Joseph knew who he was, he was connecting the horrible backstory Kane and Lao had relayed to him all those years before...with his most recent sexual partner. They were one and the same. This was Demetri Parks’ son.

Derek’s parents had been murdered shortly after he came into the world, and for a long while, the rest of Meraki thought Derek had been lost as well. Then he resurfaced years later in the hands of less than reputable relatives. For a brief moment, Joseph wanted to blame Lao for this whole evening, but even if Derek had been instructed to put himself in Joseph’s way, which was not likely, no one other than Joseph had thought to approach Derek.

You should ask Lao about your family. Joseph managed, after an awkward and long moment of silence. He turned over a new level of self-hatred in his mind. Wasn’t it just minutes ago I felt calmer than I have in years?

My family… Derek cleared his throat. I don’t have one. Derek, who had been alone, or worse than alone, for his entire life, normally would have laughed with bitterness after such a remark. But the unexpected tenderness of their so-recent interaction was still with him, and for a brief instant, Derek felt tears well in his eyes.

Shifters could feel emotional changes in humans, so it took a considerable measure of self-control on Joseph’s part to only lift Derek’s face by his perfect chin, and not kiss him. Derek had no option but to look up at him. What do you know about where you come from? Joseph’s voice was softer as if he was suddenly less worried about something. But this wasn’t the case; internally, he was screaming at himself for touching Derek again. All he could sense was the blood in Derek’s body, its movement, his beating heart, how he now smelled differently because he’d been with Joseph. We kissed, didn’t we? It was already becoming a blur in his memory, but Joseph felt like it must have happened.

I only remember where I was before the Academy.

Joseph didn’t need to hear more. He had been told about it once, and once was enough.

Does Lao have you working tomorrow?

Derek pulled back slightly. Why does he keep introducing bizarre questions about Lao out of nowhere?

Tomorrow I have to work in the Greenhouse all day. He gestured to the glass expansion down the echoing hall from his room.

When you’re done with that, do you know how to find Brigone? Joseph didn’t bother to ask if Derek knew her; everyone did.

I suppose I do, but it won’t be until well after dark that I’m finished.

Joseph remembered what night was coming the next day, and worried a moment, but didn’t want to back out and seem doubly strange. Send for Brigone, tell her when and where you’ll be available. She’ll come find you and bring you to me.

Joseph’s warm brown eyes studied the coldness in Derek’s. He saw Derek look to the side a few times as if he was considering matters and had just thought of a compelling counterargument.

If you don’t send for her, I’ll know you don’t want to know anything more about where or who you come from.

Derek laughed. This is about you having more to tell me? It’s not about you wanting to fuck me again? His eyes danced as he asked.

Joseph smiled but felt the weight of his knowledge about Derek pressing against his waking thoughts, putting a stop to any notion that anything could ever happen again between them. "You’ll see tomorrow why it had to wait. I promise that it is about your family. He looked down at his still bare feet and admitted, Not that I won’t think about what just happened a great deal. Joseph indicated the turned bed behind them, where he had so recently, and wrongly, thought this would be a brief, casual encounter. But it wouldn’t be right to ever do that again."

It pained Joseph to say it, but he was glad he did. Years before, he wouldn’t have had the strength or clarity to say that to someone as attractive as Derek. It was taking everything in Joseph’s power to not concentrate on how erect he was through this entire exchange. Since redressing, he’d felt it coming on again, and it slowly garnered more and more of his attention as he stood there, alone with Derek in such low lighting. He managed to, as gracefully as he could, reiterate to Derek what he needed to do the next night, then he left without trusting himself to touch or get near him again. He’d felt it, on his own skin, when he brushed past him, that willingness that had been so intense earlier that Joseph could smell it.

As Joseph walked home, fervently hoping that he didn’t run into anyone at this odd hour, he let the reality of what he’d done sink in. The worst part of it, the shame at his own idiotic decisions, was back in full force. But taking himself out of consideration, Joseph knew he couldn’t act on anything until he had the other one, or he knew for certain the other one was dead. Until one of those two scenarios played out, Derek was better off thinking he was a medical student on track to a doctor’s position on the Academy staff. What even is the exact protocol for this situation? Joseph couldn’t help but wonder. All of this made Joseph miss Luther Straviti, Kane’s father, more than his usual. He could just imagine what Luther would have to say if he heard about Joseph fucking his way into another predicament.

***

Derek had been honest when he told Joseph he would be at work for the entire day on Saturday. If there was one cornerstone of life that the General treated as near-religion for all the Academy to follow, it was a regular schedule. Military students had every weekend off. Many used this time to visit home or have visitors. Medical students, because they kept the schedule that Lao preferred, which was one that clashed with the military students as much as possible, were sometimes not so fortunate. The younger boys not yet in a definitive school were on strict weekdays, sunrise to sundown. This way, it made the students look forward to winter rather than dread it. If there was one thing Unwaru treasured, it was the winter, and Joseph instilled as much of his people into the Academy as he dared.

In the Greenhouse, Derek needed to re-pot as many plants as he could while it was empty. No one wanted to be out there, in a glass expanse that faced a black forest, on an early morning at the end of winter. It would be warm weather in a few weeks, but the mornings then were still remnants of the bitter cold. Despite the sweat running down his face and back from exertion, Derek had to remain fully clothed with a coat because he was running outside regularly. Granted, he was going back and forth to smoke weed, but that was part of his work process.

As the day wore on, Derek switched strains to something that he knew to make him more amorous than his usual. This made him think about the plants that Lao kept in a private greenhouse outside the Academy Proper for no one other than Joseph Inganno. Once, Derek had questioned his Master as to why the General needed a few hundred grams to himself every month, some of it strains Derek had never heard of. It was the one and only time Lao defended Joseph in Derek’s hearing. Lao told him that Joseph was in a great deal of pain on a regular, if not constant, basis. He was good at hiding it, but it wore on him more as he aged. The more Derek smoked, the more he thought about their night together. The General didn’t make love like an aging man in pain.

When the purple-black of the evening had overtaken the sky, Derek stopped his work. He wasn’t done, but he hadn’t thought to finish in a day. He always took Sundays off, so this would all have to wait until Monday. Lao would be furious that Derek left the place in such a mess, but Derek felt emboldened that night. Whatever the real relationship between the General and Lao, Joseph was definitely the one in control, and Lao used every opportunity he had to cavil against and undermine him as a reaction. Those who knew the truth of it were the subjects of so many rumors themselves that any explanation from them lacked credibility.

After he left the Greenhouse, Derek returned home to shower and change, both unpleasant tasks in his unheated bedroom. Then he set out. He knew a few girls would stop him and want their money. He took enough to pay everyone and to buy for himself. He had a sinking suspicion he was going to spend the night alone and frustrated, since suddenly now he was either too good or not good enough for the General, according to the confusing declaration Joseph had made the night before. Something like he loved us being together, but we couldn’t go about it again?

Derek took care of his necessary business as fast as he could. He offered the first girl an extra ten to find Brigone and tell her Derek was looking for her. The girl, Dara, narrowed her pretty blue eyes (a sure sign she came from Kalabari people) at the mention of Brigone’s name. The country girls who moved to the Academy expecting greener pastures did not care for her, as a rule.

Do you want to do it or not? Derek asked shortly at her obvious distaste. Ten for carrying a message, when that was the going rate for a hand job, was an attractive offer.

Dara set off, knowing Brigone was sure to be in the market, as she always was in the evening on the weekends. Some people who were roughly related to her own were among the merchants who set up shop every Friday then tore down on Sunday, and she never missed an opportunity to speak with them. It was said she still had distant family and these peddlers sometimes ran through their parts. It was her only chance to send word to them.

Brigone dressed like a Native, the interior ones who interacted very little outside their gene pool for most of their lives. Her inky black hair always smelled a bit too much like a wild animal, and she was known to disappear at will. No one could tell how, just that they were following her one moment and the next she was gone. That this strange being was Joseph’s personal servant, the head female in his household, was only too fitting. Dara found her exactly where she knew she would, by the men who sold furs and leathers. The General disliked their business and made their stands among those outside the protective courtyard so they would grow cold and leave before the crowd had dissipated. Brigone always wore short gray boots, long brown skirts of varying degrees of prettiness, and a black top that involved a tight bodice and a large shawl to hide everything the bottom layer worked so hard to showcase. Her hair was usually pinned up on her head, to keep it out of her way. Today was no different.

Her head pivoted around before her eyes moved. Brigone had been expecting someone to approach her. Just the tone the General had used that morning when he told her it might happen gave her the impression that he knew it would. Being Saturday, Brigone wanted this matter resolved as soon as possible, so she left when Dara finished telling her where she could find Derek. Her impatience made her walk faster, and she managed to catch both men off guard with her rapid appearances.

Derek had only just finished buying what he figured it would take to get through the night and the entire following day when she materialized at his side. She moved so silently and with such swiftness that he had no way of knowing what direction she had come from. She asked his name, then told him to follow her. Without side-stepping or making any effort for discretion, she led him directly to Joseph’s private apartments. He lived in a house in its own right, but it was nestled in the most northern corner of the Academy. Its outer wall met with the exterior protective wall of the Academy itself.

Joseph was not pleased to find Brigone had brought Derek to his bedroom hours before he’d wanted him taken to the stable, which was where he had something to show him. Something that Joseph assumed would interest him. But Joseph had forgotten what night it was, and what he needed to take care of before he met with Derek again. And then, he was much in the spirit of taking care of things as soon as he’d gotten back home, before he’d even taken the time to bathe. This placed Joseph in the very beginning stages of jerking off when Brigone was unlocking his door and ushering a hesitant Derek inside.

Why are you two hours early? When he heard his door opening, there had barely been time to rewrap himself in the towel he’d been lying on.

It’s Saturday. Brigone said it like her working on the weekend was unheard of.

This is important, Joseph snapped back, then he called her something Derek didn’t understand, but it seemed to be some term of endearment because her expression changed and then she just looked sad.

She glanced at Derek once more, then left by the exterior door so she could walk around the building and enter the market from the outside.

After she left, Joseph and Derek regarded one another from across the room, and Joseph became painfully aware that he was in a towel, and he was drenched in his own sweat. He’d spent much of his afternoon helping to muck the stables. The stable hands hadn’t needed the help so much as he had needed the distraction of exertion before nightfall, and he wanted to make sure none of them were going to be there on duty that night.

There’s a reason I gave her a specific time. Joseph indicated his state, Please, give me a moment. He nodded towards the couch beside the in-use fireplace in his room. There was a table with a decanter of scotch and two crystal glasses – all gifts from Joseph’s mother – that didn’t take Derek long to notice.

Joseph tried to ignore how hard he was. The bath he’d had a lesser servant prepare was in a small tiled room adjacent to his bedroom. It would be impossible to take care of himself without Derek hearing it. Sending Derek to a different room would seem off, and also increase the chances of someone else seeing him. The others, anyone who wasn’t Brigone, didn’t enter his private rooms when he was in residence, even Delphine, the only additional Other on his personal staff. That was a rule unless he sent for them. He paid his servants well enough to make his strict rules easy to follow.

He bathed as quickly and silently as possible. It was only just then, at this stage in his life, that he realized how vividly loud an activity bathing was. Then he began to wonder how he was still capable of putting himself into such embarrassing situations at his age.