Sardoodledom: Darkened Promise Part Two: SARDOODLEDOM, #2

By Laura Jean Lysander

7th Elaborated updated Edition: The thrilling, tormenting conclusion to SARDOODLEDOM: The Broken Rule, Darkened Promise Part Two; It was almost eight months later, after the harrowing, deadly, shocking incident that changed all of their lives in an instant; Resilient and brilliant, the young beauty Eir stumbles upon a fated cryptic message from the missing, abducted, enigmatic princely Imre. This leads to an unexpected trip for Eir and the now non-tyrant turned Templar Tony, for cagey, suave Tony knows much more about it than Eir or anyone else was aware of, and his now torrid feelings are running rampant; he has held it only to himself in obscurity until now, for soon it will all come spilling forth with another jarring, supernatural, mystic, arcane clue; to figure out just how and when to find and rescue the abducted and valiant ransomed Imre, who has secretly, courageously been praying they discover what aid and romantic pledges he has left for them before the terrible, tangled web of their veiled, clandestine family's secrets ensnares and destroys them all While Imre is discovering more and more hidden, horrid truths of their past, as well as newly founded ancestral members who seem to all be against him? Can they all free themselves from the dynamited danger and surmount the evils lurking within their own family tree? Will Eir and Tony be able to find and emancipate the captive, calamitously cornered Imre? Read on and find out...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lysander's Literaries
• Release date: Jul 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201519001

Book preview

By Laura Jean Lysander

Volume 2

7th edition

Illustrated sketches and portrait Cover art done by Barbara Ann Mahon, Digital illustrative graphic editing of the cover art was done by Squire Lysander~

A Dark, Demented

Supernatural

Mystery Soap Operetta

Comedy Thriller...

In Short, A Modern Gothic Noir Love Story...

Foreward

THIS TALE is the second half of the novel Series Sardoodledom:  May I suggest you read the first part, The Broken Rule, Part one: and just be aware that this snarky, verbose, overdone nefariously torrid sequel is even more sinister, deranged,  diabolically darker and adverse than the former half; regard that before delving into it and possibly please read the first half if you wish, for you would be missing out on many of the key former elements of its incredulously ridiculous, over done, melodramatic plot line and character’s back story if you do not; Not to say this demented half cannot stand up on its own, I think it can if you actually enjoy the story, this, ah, type of thing...? yet it was specifically written as a continuation to the previous part, and because it just could not fit all of its overly exaggerated and profuse elaboration of notoriously dramatic overdone personal familial human horror into one book. I cut the project in half and published it this way for it just became too long and winded.

The second half of Sardoodledom (which is this one) also involves more matured characters, subject matter, and even more awful, disturbing flashback situations which may not be suitable for younger teen readers; I strongly advise and recommend the reader to be at least within the third year of high school or coming of age presently; it is not for the virtuously strict of heart to read (they may condemn it) nor those who shy away from the dark misfortunes of life, so please heed the I told you so warning if you feel it may be too much to deal with, for even I found it unnerving while attempting to complete it and agitated me, not at all my favorite exercise to do. Maybe I’m just too sensitive? Is that it? There are also as mentioned more mature characters, adults adulting in many significantly wrong, non-politically correct ways, and the plot takes you off and out totally from the high school setting within the previous prequel quite quickly to a more adventurous, unknown overseas scenario, though not devoid of any of the flavor of the first half; so if you just wanted more (and worse of) of what you had read in the first part it is here, served up hot on a platter; you just need to know it isn’t dealing with day to day teenaged school scene relationship or classrooms at all, it moves out of that quickly as stated it introduces new, previously mentioned and shortly seen older and not older characters to love and hate, elevating the soap operatic theme.

It flashes and regresses into some of the reprehensible, censurable, utterly offensive, hurtful traumatic past events of the main characters, so you get a better idea and back log of why they are who they have evolved into, and why they have behaved that way. Some of this (most flashbacks) may disturb some, frankly it disturbed me greatly even to create, delve into and write it, and for me it was really hard for me to continue to do, I hesitated to do it, and even did not go full force with them, and debated should I honestly include these scenes, even if they were in snippets mentioned as part of the story in the first half as clues just briefly? Should I go so far as elaborating and writing them out? Is it censurable? I resolved to continue. I still am unsure if that was wise to do, I honestly did keep getting up to walk away, disturbed each time I edited and updated the versions and editions as if it really upset me morally to forego it (as I thought it would anyone; it did not give me pleasure but experience) and were the most unenjoyable detestable scenes to create, but I did to challenge myself, and to finish and complete the story, for it was there, part of it just not ever fully explained, blanks were there, hidden and secreted off, and many who if they do read this in scrutiny would question the back story and why it was left out. I guess this explanation may quench that question. Maybe I am an author wimp, who knows? I myself am not even sure why except...

With that explained, and a pleasure and thanks for your interest, this is a tale of fiction and in no way taken from any real life factual occurrences or individuals; please pass no judgement upon it, for it will (at least I know) was done on my side to humanely help those who have gone through such tragic, unspoken situations in life to have others understand where they are coming from, to place oneself within their shoes, their perspective, and have compassion and respect for them; That to me is the saving grace of the reason, and to help heal those as we altruistically should who have been there.

The foretelling of the action also switches back and forth from all of the perspectives of the three main characters. In short, three-first person views, and one-third person perspective, so you can understand where they all individually are coming from when possible, for those who may have a favorite character can now get much more of an idea of what makes them feel and tick from them. This is not usually the case in a novel, but I pushed myself as a writer to get into the characters deeply and form them in strength, an exercise for me, also as a former actress to accentuate their individual traits, and a treat for the readers who wished to see this in each of their point of view when possible.

The ending? Well, I’m not too sure if... there really is one, and I am even toying with the idea of another nefarious part to this, If I could, for there are some clues written in this second half regarding more of the ancestral past of the character’s family. I might be able to go forward with that idea if I ever have time or whimsy and do not finally tear my hair out over this and finally can stop updating it, or more inspiration, or finally get these two parts to the point where they are to me done...and after this edition I think (not really) they will be, but then again, this is a soap operetta...

Prologue

"E r schläft so viel ; always sleeping , und not peacefully, zis one; ah-is he all right? Vhen vill he awake?" Cassie commented in her German, peering down at the delirious, unconscious young man lying upon the centuries-old, German, black forest wood, hand-carved four-postered canopied bed. Its thick, heavy velvet lux curtains had been drawn back to reveal its forlorn sleeper. The room was rich, high-ceilinged, gothic themed, and certainly passed for a castle bedchamber due to its detailed, richly ornate interior. It was high within the very antiquated, unused wing of the elite, aged stone Schloss Mansion-Villa of historic and museum-worthy rank; he was sequestered purposely within the partition of the residence where no visitors had ever entered as just the immediate family and some well paid servants and private, trusted helpers, as the Master of the house Erb-Graf Ulrich called them, and were very much needed for him and the predicament. Yet they honestly... were not that.

"Er muss sediert werden, Cassie; he has to be tranquilized right now, or he vill definitely hurt himself," Master Ulrich responded to her, also in German, staring down at the young man in the bed with an odd look of distant, aristocratic intrigue.

One would think that gaze and thought from him would and certainly should be of paternal love, care, warmth and sentiment, relief. He was, after all, his true birth father.

Yet... once again, it was not. Not even a minuscule, meager, small blip of possible parental bonding clung to him, ever, and that loving, protective thought so lofty never even had crossed his egotistical, stand-offish, vainglorious, indulgent, darkened, solipsistic self-absorbed mind. No; Sadly, something far more sinisterly nefarious festered there, and always had.

"Mein Gott, Lieb, he looks just like you, from your older photos, ze ones you have shown me; just fairer in hair und eye; Gut ausshend," Victoria remarked, under her breath, blinking her lovely, long stately eyelashes, her elegantly shaded cattily made-up smoked and frosted eyes studying him with enamored fascination. She feigned as if this was the very first time she had ever seen him, but it wasn’t.

She had remembered that one adventurous night in the USA, at that fancy upscale rented ballroom, the teenage Halloween dance whence they accosted and addressed him, he adorned in that gorgeously lavish costume, shining just as a prince charming should, regally and royally, a walking adonis, looking so much as her husband would have when he was that young and of age, and even more stirringly handsome and attractive than he was, such an accent as well, as she remarked a bit fairer, lighter in the hair and eye;

She knew then immediately what she was going to resolve in her silent thoughts to do, had it already intricately schemed, lain it all out in her mind and along with her unabashed, alluring, eye-catching beauty and renowned vixen expertise, she didn’t think he ever stood a chance, this young clone, especially since he was after all, Ulrich’s birth son, and had the same bloodline coursing through his veins. Hook, line, and sinker she was sure he, this sleeping prince charming would fall hard and she’d reel him in like a caught, trapped, floundering minnow gasping for air;

She mused expectantly and so sure of herself, alike all her other unknown secret conquests, but this one by far would be the cherry topping on her sweet syrupy sundae: the catch of a lifetime, she’d be swimming in it all, not only having the Father, but his son as well, a twisted fantasy of a coup. Everything she every wanted and more, and he’d succumb to her ingenious, fabled charms; She couldn’t wait until he was abled and about; Or, maybe she didn’t even have to; the more helpless, despairing and needy he would be, the better for her.

Master Ulrich then shot her a smolderingly hot stare, then softened it, flicking his hardened, steely, handsomely long-lashed gaze back towards the young man in the bed, who then squirmed a bit and sighed greatly in his hazy, enforced, induced hallucinatory sleep, totally oblivious to what was going on about him.

"May ve... visit him? Cassie inquired, eagerly, very curious, overly stirred by the young man’s strikingly pristine looks, so much like her stepfather’s only brightened, a male counterpart to sleeping beauty" she mused, involuntarily lying in that majestic old bed and restrained.

"Only you two may visit, and zhat is all. No one else is to know, or is aware of him, except for my exclusive man-servants to tend him privately. Ziz is all for his safety and vell being; no one but us may know. Tell no one. It is only between us. This is family business, only for us to see and discuss. I know you understand zis, and vhat I mean by it. He is quite awfully ill, Cassie, and vill not get better, only vorsen, and needs to rest and be kept... alone.  He must be restrained  und sedated for a while; he vill think and have awful opinions of me, from all zose lies, Lügen told to him so many years. He may get a little vell if he is kept alone, last longer, though I have been told otherwise, a krank, schlecht, a hopeless case.

...At least his last months or end vill be here, there he should be, his ancestral home, and in comfort, give him vhat we can, so much better than vhat he has been through from vhat I have discovered. I can at least give him zat honor, Master Ulrich sternly responded. Cassie nodded obediently, always doing as told. She would heed any of his orders, greatly rewarded with gifts when done.

How long zen is poor, schon sohn Marcus to be vith us? Such a shame, vergueden, Victoria mumbled, sighing as if bored, pretending to be uninterested, primping at her hair, vainly checking the polish on her diamond-ring fingered nails, then sidling up to her husband, spooning behind him, embracing his frame closely to hers, and placing her hands around his waist, massaging him, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Not too long; It could be ein Jahr, maybe more, maybe even less. Do not disturb him too often or any more zhan he should be. Once he is ready to be up and awake, to walk about... do not talk of vhat is going on outside, out of the Schloss, he vill be truly upended and persistently upset zat he cannot leave, or go out anyvhere, except to the Gardens, possibly ze gym, ze pool in zis ving, accompanied ven he is stronger. Expect zat from him once he awakens, his growing frustration and vehemence, and his attempts to move about and escape as if he is a prisoner and try to sway him to think otherwise; Limit your conversation vith him, to spare any brisant incidents, for you already know have been told vhat is to happen," Master Ulrich instructed, warned with strict intent.

Cassie and Victoria and the man servants all nodded to him, still gazing downward, pining at the young man, who sighed heavily once more, the fine, golden chain and cross upon his neck glistening, glittering as he moved softly. He could hear voices, but not what was being said. To him it was all muffled, a dreamy haze, unable to rise or awake from the bed.

"Zat vas so generous of you, to use your Deusen and actually find him, rescue him, and bring him back." Cassie whispered, still in an infatuated state. Even if it is only for a short while.

"Almost 18 Jahrs missing? Vell zat is quite a long time to be heisted, taken, stolen, entführen, zen to search and finally after all zat chaos find him, Victoria added, strangely, whispering to his ear, then kissing it. You are so valiantly relentless! Even if it is almost too late as stated."

There was some scratching and weird whining upon the outside of the double-doored bedroom they were all standing in, infiltrating their ears.

"Who let zem up here? Bring zem back down! Nobody but us comes in here! Get zem OUT!" Master Ulrich boomed towards the door, irked, annoyed. There was shuffling, and the noises and whining ceased. Master Ulrich boldly stared down once more silently, at the young man in the bed fitfully sleeping innocently.

"He vill have to be like this for a few months, on and off. At night he must be sedated, restrained until I say otherwise. Ze man-servant helper nurses administered for him who are outside ze door vill tend to him. Do not interfere vith zeir job. Spend a few more minutes here, zen you need, must go. I vill meet you formally for dinner in the first right ving of the Manor within ze hour. And dress vell, ve shall have some investment guests of mine for business tonight from ze Opera, and then ve vill all leave after ze extravagant dinner party fundraiser to go see ze new performance I helped produce, now zat I vill be home for ze month, to tend to a few private, lingering matters; zen I vill be, must be off again to travel and for business until ze middle of next year, in Europe, stopping in from time to time to check up on it all, and arrive back late May, very early June; Tell our guests nothing of zis; it is for no one to hear or see, and better zat vay for all; Zis is so traumatic..."

Master Ulrich added with a tinge of feigned despondence, frowning, turning to leave the room, opening the double doors and striding out dignifiedly like the elegant, suave, sophisticate socialite, the debonair, kingly Count of the Manor, which he was.

Cassie followed on his heels, staring bleakly back to the bed, not wishing to leave yet entrancingly fascinated, with a saddened gaze.

Victoria just stood there, still very quiet, squinting her  cattish, elegantly smoky, bedroom eye gaze over, surveying the young man extensively from head to toe, devising her next covert, cagey move, stroking her finely formed vixen chin, contemplating, and raising her lovely arched eyebrows in secret intrigue.

A year is more zen enough time, she quietly whispered, very low, trailing her be-ringed fingers and jeweled, bracelet-dripped wrist over the velvet bedcovers near the sleeping young man’s covered toes, the golden encrusted bangles clinking, with a twisted, salacious grin, and then turned to leave.

CHAPTER 1

THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE NEVER DID RUN SMOOTH~ - SHAKESPEARE-

IT WAS VERY EARLY IN the month of June, seven, almost eight months had progressed from the mayhem and pandemoniac incidents which dangerously gutted and forever scarred my and many other lives; it had passed excruciatingly by, and I was once again in the Schenectady high school hallway for change of classes. I started to, although I was having a troubled time concentrating upon it, or even touching upon the thought yet with forced diligence in my mind, finally went to musing about the long list of colleges that had so far offered me and would accept me with scholarships, trying to sort through all of them, for I still had not made up my mind, and was possibly even thinking of taking six months to a gap year off just to mull it over what indeed I should do;

What I indeed should do...?

You know what that is, since nothing at all had changed.

No, Eir, that wasn’t why you wanted to do it, take that time off; you wanted to escape, to leave it all and just find...him, Finally, if possible. Stop lying to yourself and face it. You know that was and is the only thing that had been on your mind and in your heart and what you were striving for all this time, all these months in diligence. Not the prestige, or colleges, universities and conservatories, or what they had to offer. The colleges... The colleges, they all honestly didn’t mind, they all said they’d take me If I wished, whenever I decided or even if I did take that time off afterwards; still couldn’t believe it. It had not sank in. Nothing had penetrated my stoic reserve, the facade of secret, agonizing torment no one was allowed to see by me;

There were the eight Ivy League schools in the USA involved, and many others. They had all accepted me, to my stunned surprise and it made me so-still so unused to the fuss or clamoring attention, still. I could have even gone overseas, to the foreign conservatories or universities involved in Europe; Royal Academy, Royal College, Conservatoire Paris,  Sibelius, Vienna, Amsterdam...I was in utter shock, but was seriously contemplating that particular option, for to me it was the best choice, to just leave it, leave all of it that had swept me into the calamity and fated epic fortune or-misfortune, the two-sided coin of it all, just how you look upon it; I never honestly felt I had ever belonged here, in Schenectady or that I would ever wish to stay, never did at all feel at home, or that this was home, or happy, or in the right place, my destiny here never was fortunate, not up until-he so sweetly, romantically befriended me, for he was of my  heart, he was my home...and now, he had been taken, and was gone.

My teachers and my parents, they advised, told me to apply to them, every single one of any conservatory or college of high learning I thought I might wish to attend, so I had; they also accepted me, all of the ones that I applied to; Nothing could have stopped me, my entire life and choice was now out for me to ponder and pick from; it overwhelmed me to the point that I could not choose, yet I never showed it, but I still...I had falteringly not chosen.

There were also numerous admissions for gymnastics and sport, ALL of them accepted me with full free ride scholarships, Universities of Denver, Cali, Georgia, Florida, District of Columbia, Michigan, Alabama, Missouri, Utah, Washington, Arizona, ALL of them wanted me. For my conservatory vocal singing, voice and music, Juliard, Curtis, Manhattan, Berklee, all of them, and the other Ivy Leaguers mentioned for just my Valedictorian grade point average.

All of the ones I had applied to had accepted me shockingly, it even frightened me, with full four year Scholarships, Full, possibly more if I wanted to go further with Masters or Doctorates. You would think I would be grateful, astounded, screaming in ecstatic jubilation. I had to choose soon, by the end of the week; I had to. Even the local county newspaper and local TV news to my moral, reservations had run a small story about it, about me and my ‘accomplishments’ to my utmost mortified shy embarrassment, I forced to be on camera for them, answering questions humbly. I did it with the courage I had reserved and bucked up and brought forth since learned, for my school, for they were so proud of me, they all now turned to me as their leader; my parents as well imploring me to do it; I shoved that stoic bravery out, held to my heart; But...secretly, I felt nothing... absolutely nothing, a big gaping hole of nothing. Absolutely nothing in wishing to continue with my now  duly won and shining star status.

I was silently screaming, just to myself. I was graduating with those top honors, and was the Valedictorian of the graduating class, inducted into every honor society there was, as... he had commented I would be the very first day I had spoken to him. I was doing everything I was supposed to be doing, the renowned pillar of society, stellar valedictorian student, but I was just going through motions,  robotically walking through it, and for everyone else, not me.

Nothing had touched me, changed my humble wishes; in fact, nothing seemed to matter to me anymore, not for almost eight months. I had been in a blank, overdrive, over-fried daze. It had gone by so fast yet it was excruciating and I thought I was dying. It was just a few weeks from graduation and I had indeed already graduated, no need to be here in these halls, but as usual in school with the rest of the senior class just meandering around until the diploma Ceremony. And what I truly, secretly felt...

I could never honestly reveal. No longer was I invisible, or flagrantly shunned. That stigma had long gone away. I was glaringly treated like a legend, a leader, and had to live up to the acquired label and standard I never thought I’d have or commit to;

I tutored, shared what I could every day, I taught piano and voice, I coached gymnastics, keeping extremely busy to fill that blatant gaping hole. I as well still did child care as on the side when I had the time. They all paid me generously even though I never asked for anything. I advocated and counseled those timid students, those who were kooky, quirky, those who professed dire need secretly and helped them to the right channels to aid them, those who I sensed as well were ‘sensitives’ like I, who didn’t seem to fit in, or had a hard time socially, those who honestly needed true guidance and mentored them.

I made a difference, truly, a difference that showed within the community and county, and the difference it gave within my heart so truly worthwhile, which had paid back far more than any money, and they flourished, those who had come to me. Even with that to console me...I still felt the epic chasm of grief hidden within me, even if Everyone wanted me to mentor them. For now, everyone wanted my time and a piece of me. I was helping everywhere, just as he had set in motion and had done with his philanthropy, I now had stepped into his shoes to keep his shining, glorious star  bright. The senior trip had come and gone, I had not attended.

The Prom... was to be sometime next week, and I refused to go, I had helped with all the preparations, the planning and all other aspects of it, and with startled awkwardness, had been asked to it, to be escorted by so many young suitors as their date and partner yet I just couldn’t; my heart would always be taken; I couldn’t date anyone. It wasn’t that I was wallowing in my self-pity; it was that whatever feelings and partnership I had to me was still there, as if he had never disappeared.

I turned the invitations all down, just as I had every time I had been asked for a date, and I had been asked now for outings and dates every single week, too many invitations to count they did not stop asking me, but I could not, would not go; and everyone understood why. They understood why I declined, and they cared. They even respected me, and they had secretly wished just as I, waited just as I had, for the other missing half of what I was a part of, a miracle, to faithfully return to me if he honestly could. They didn’t think I was crazy or a lost cause due to it.

Everyone, including yours truly, had kept that valiant spark of hope that someday, even more than half a year later, something would change. No one was giving up, at all, of the miracle wish. Yet no one knew. No one knew within that I despairingly cried silent waterless tears every night, every single night since it all went down.

I suffered in secret, I was of the walking deteriorating dead, and no one but me understood it, how I felt, except possibly, just one. I was just like a Night of The Living Dead zombie, just going thru the motions for everyone else, in secret servitude, keeping up the fearless front, flaming the hearth that he had fired for everyone, including me.

I was Eirloom O’casey, Angel to be, genuine true person-the icon; the stoic surviving half of someone who had been savagely torn, ripped away, stolen from all, hidden somewhere where no one could find him, yet I knew, I felt-he was trying, vainly, with all his valiant might trying but wasn’t able to do anything to get back to me, any word of where he was or what was going on-or to anyone;

Something malignant and malicious was holding him back, against his will, holding him hostage, a satanic, sick morbid, as if all in a drugged daze...I knew it, had felt it for months and months, due to our bond, our special, bonded, melded sensitivities, like an organic Internet connection re-plugged and wired, for it, that part of it had not severed, that was why I refused to start anew, for what was there, was still there raging in me, and I fought the festering vile lump of remorse, of the bleeding, blistering psychic mental wound within every day he was gone because of it; There was no way he could even contact me physically or mentally of his whereabouts, even if through the telepathy we had shared before;

I knew he had vainly tried it, tried to do it but nothing came through; He seemed so out of sorts, so ill, out of it even that was taken away or blocked, or that somehow, contact with the outside world or that divine privilege or it wasn’t allowed or given, absolutely no access of communication for him physically as well, to send a message even secretly, that was how I felt it for him; it enraged as well as drowned me...

My fervent passions for him had not ceased, only increased in intensity; regardless whom he now indeed was to me, what kinfolk secret we harbored and shared. That was and had never been any barrier to my heart, even if I had pondered and thought upon the repercussions, and the fallout if publicly founded, the taboo nature of it all I had shoved under a rug as the other other-worldly, paranormal and jarring incidents and did not care, threw it blindly the wind what he was to me, as he did as well with total disregard, just our consensual, deep bonded love and attraction of one another; when we had fell in love it was all unknown and like he had professed could not be undone in either of our hearts and souls, and as for attempting to figure out or finding his whereabouts...it would somehow have to be me to attempt, to initiate how to somehow resolve to adventure, get to him, to find him, for I knew he was deftly hidden even if in plain sight, no one of immediate aid would be able to speak with him, at least those who would or could help him....had not.

And with dread and mounting crucial urgency of approaching fear I knew this had to be done, for I knew innately there was no time now to spare; something dire, a breach or a line had been crossed, a turning point in his health or his immediate welfare, at least that telepathic, innuendo of occurrence I had been able to muster and feel from him; it was increasing...

I felt a malady overtaking him, creeping into him day by day bit by bit, but could not figure out what it could be, or where he was... it had been far too long in whatever languishing doomed conditions he was enduring, and whomever had forced it upon him, this enforced state knew it as well; I felt that building, and in a twisted, ominous circumstance. Somehow I had to figure it out, quickly, drastically, no matter what was on my itinerary or upcoming agenda, his welfare, his life...was now on the line, and I had to find a way to get to him somehow, someway, no matter what it meant for me to do, I had to do it...and now.

Slowly I approached my English Literature Classroom. My Shakespeare Anthology, the very same heavyweight, slipped from my hand because today, out of all the days we were asked to bring it in to return it, I had left my book satchel home, and it was once more left there drying after washing it...the same iconic reason of dumb-wittery on my part, and it in twin response fell, tumbling to the floor, just as before seven and more months ago, as did my antique fountain pen, sending a shiver, a chain reaction of reoccurrence of that-our very first fated meeting throughout me, battering my soul. I fought back a a gasp of a despairing cry and swallowed it.

Silently, forlornly, and forbearing, I wished so desperately within for that a warm, loving, legendary, wondrously friendly, enigmatic, ardent-filled, Bermuda-blue eyed, chivalric young man we all still held a torch for and thought about would help bend over to pick it up for me.

The school since he had been missing had even set up a glass display case in the hall in his honor, photos of him performing from the Morning Music assembly and the Gymnastics Competition we had been in; I had to pass it and stare upon it in agonizing irony every day, as well as a reward the authorities, the police had raised for anyone finding him and information leading to his return, which had all been for naught; My mind was not lacking in descriptive adjectives for him; he was all that and much, much more, and not just for me. 

I just stood and stared down to it, at my fallen book and  pen just lying there, deadened with despair. Slowly I bent to fetch it up, forcing my overused bravery out.

Surprisingly,... someone else swiftly swiped, picked it up for me, and the pen, someone with very strong hands with an old, rustic antique ring on it, twisted upside down. I eased my eyes up at them, confusedly and still in that haze.

It was Tony.

He gave me a small strained smile, touching my hand slightly. Tony, he had always been around, supporting me silently, quietly, secretly, at a small distance as to not make issue or any advancing waves; the only one who may have truly known of how I felt within, for he shared that same tie, that same horror of a knot of supernatural symbiotic melding...telling no one of what we had found out about us all, talking to and convincing Tina into not saying a word of it, as if it wasn’t even known by us, our bondage of blood as well, even taking her, Tina on exclusive dates for quite a while;

Since it, the incidents happened, he only kept her physically close to him in any dating relationship. They became a bright item pair, the ‘Ship of the School’, up until just the last part of the month of April and it was now the first week of June, going steady with only her after what had happened with us all, and she almost fainted dead off because of it, she couldn’t believe he’d actually do that with her, and for so long; it was indeed a record for him and a total about face turn around in morals and manner;

And I was so very happy for them, the only happiness that managed to slip into my heart since... it made me warm to see it, to see them happy and together and close, and for them to both care so much for each other; It was the first real serious coupling Tony I think ever had, and the best, and the two remaining very good friends afterwards, a month since they had ended it and now, still friendly, close and supportive. I did not know of why they stopped the pairing, most likely graduation and what would ensue thereafter.

And Tina or Tony would most be going off, diverging to different paths, Colleges or schools, though Tina was all out for going after her professional makeup classes in Manhattan NYC, or even California, the Cinema Makeup school in L.A. had accepted her, so had MUD Studio in NYC; She was going to be the future dream celebrity makeup artist she wished to be, and she certainly had the talent for the profession. I wasn’t sure of Tony’s trajectory just yet, he wasn’t telling me what he was deciding to do or anyone for that matter; he was being cagey still on that decision.

After he had dated Tina for almost six months and they were in the Yearbook as best couple, he hadn’t seemed to choose or start to look for another beau, or have any date, bae hot slay babe at all since her or after; that was exceptionally odd and uncharacteristic for him, usually juggling a few different dates a week-before Tina; I honestly thought he just might...be very serious about her, for he was. He had treated her with utmost respect and chivalry, more than any of his past relationships, and Tina as well. I didn’t know yet if they were attending the prom with one another or at all, I hadn’t wished to intrude to ask. Tina for once did not ‘blab’ on her relationship status, a first for her and she had matured on that; she really respected and cared for Tony; and he, now, Tony, he said he was seemingly really concentrating just on his tests, some other pertinent matters and schoolwork now, until he graduates as he mentioned to me, an incredible 360 for him; It was amazing to see his grades swing into high gear since I had tutored him and Tina for five months in the library before and after school and  lunch periods, and his reputation totally flipped over...

He and Tanyia Swineheart as an item were long over, that ship had indeed sunk to the depths; she had been transferred out of the school, actually had been ruefully expelled, discharged due to what was founded she had done to us all at the gymnastics competition meet; they had also linked other  nefarious incidents connected to her, all very jarring and vindictive. Her fall from grace was infamously legendary as well.

Shockingly, she wound up in a youth detention center, her high brow, rich up the wazoo high society very well connected father for once unable to pay her way out or finagle, convince the authorities to release her even yet, as other unsportsmanlike as well as many other  and more assaulting and illegal incidents regarding her behavior and status came to light, surfacing, with she as the main perpetrator, resulting in actual charges being drawn up by the county D.A.; She was now... a faded memory for everyone.

Tony Cagey Coz, now Templar Tony... he had been over to my Aunt Elektra’s every single weekend asking her if there was anything, anything at all he could do to help her since...since-I couldn’t even get myself to think or talk of, mention it verbally or revisit the sanguine tragedy; I had purposely, shoved, bleached, blanked the trauma out, almost all of-it was the only way I could go on, continue what had been given for me to do, keep the legend alive and forthcoming for all. If I dwelled upon the memories I would petrify myself.

Me Aunt Elektra, she had attempted to talk to the authorities about what had happened, her involvement and what she knew, yet they were not allowed to take anything she said  for face value, only heresy due to the filed, signed documents those many years ago; they still stood as truth for she signed them. Forcibly, though, she said that to them too. But their hands were tied on it and it stopped everything, grinding their investigation to an abrupt halt and slammed doors in their faces, for they couldn’t get anything they needed to follow up on it, especially on any overseas investigative pursuits, which Aunt Elektra told them they should be looking into, not here.

The Police and detectives couldn’t seem to tail or track down or pin point precisely if that person...she had mentioned,Ulrich or thought was the one who had abducted-she wasn’t allowed to speak of any of it and as aforementioned the documents signed years ago were deemed proven about my Aunt’s tragic past.

She and my mother had been forced to signed a legal clause... and whatever she did tell them, they, the ones on the case couldn’t track it overseas at all due to it; it kept coming up blank and dark, as dark as he was or had created it to be untraceable; The emergency doctor as well who had been involved, who had been struck by Aunt Elektra’s presence that day had actually started a close, caring relationship with my aunt, and they were still together; It was comforting to see her finally with someone who understood and cared for her; he had proposed to her, head over heels and she surprisingly accepted; they were to be wed this July 4th.

The investigators as well had kept everything of what they had found out private, as to once again not rial the public any more than what had already happened; it was an undercover operation,  closed case which to my dismay and festering despair lead to nowhere...the case, his mystifying, convoluted case, it tragically led absolutely nowhere, dead ends, no leads, even though my Aunt had defyingly told them what had in the past occurred, as she had despondently revealed to me, even when she knew it would lead back to her and it took so much courage to do so, and she’d get in trouble for it if that man Ulrich found out and any documents or legality regarding it, or him had all been shut and undisclosed; erased completely, no real proof; just like she had revealed, all the documents or what not were missing or changed, most likely overseas or destroyed, or could be hiding anywhere, if at all; or were still to be found.

No real proof the man she mentioned, talked of even was in the States at the time of the awful abduction, and, it did not seem so at all, even though I told them about the accosting incident at the Screech ball,  that he had shown up there with another lady, with the Birth Certificate I had seen  him hand to Imre; I had also read it; it as well had been hijacked with him for he had it on his person that day; the abductors had also taken his personal belongings, his knapsack and clothing, investigators here had a very hard time finding proof of it or of him anywhere...

...Even if questioned, they couldn’t prove anything, even if she wanted to, the story didn’t match up with what she was forced to report all those years ago; she couldn’t even ask permission to try to unseal any of the papers or documents she spoke of, or be possibly arrested due to what she had been forced to do; And that Man, Ulrich Valeau Himmel? He was seemingly a highbrow keep to himself, very mysterious aristocratic old world musician/performer/singer, the authorities only knew that much of him, who only entertained intimate circles of those alike himself, heir to a huge fortune; the upper crust of elite society. Where he was nothing could touch him or his pristine, unknown, inheritor billionaire image; he was well known but barely known, an enigmatic oddity just like his...son. Yet I still held out; everyone did; we had to believe; the community, the school, it was that one vital, urgent wish everyone, especially... me, really needed to believe in. Keep that dream alive.

"Heirloom, hey, Snow White, yer book, here, yuh dropped yer book an’ pen," Tony whispered to me, calmly.

I tried bravely to smile back at him but just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I could not smile truthfully at all anymore. I just stared at him painfully, at those large brown eyes with the golden flecks and teal dancing in them, at a loss for words, biting my lip. He seemed to sense my building melancholy.

"C’mon, Angel lassie, you’ll be late fer class, an’ you’re nevuh late. Can’t break that record, can we? Um gonna halftuh give yuh um, a phone call t’night. Chin up, fairest of them all. Don’t tell no one, ok? No one; It’s real important, ‘kay?" He encouraged, quietly.

We both had just gone on, as he said, chin up and foot forward, as if almost nothing had happened that was unknown  between us, but it had, drastically, for he had told me to, to not change anything, regarding what we found out, of our blood bond, our kinship and past, and how we spoke or acted towards one another in case something else happened, if someone else came by, looking for-he was making triple sure that something like that would never, ever happen again, to us or anyone. It all had to stay the same with us to keep the guard up, keep it mum and covered up for safety of all.

Everyone now looked upon him, upon Tony in a whole different light, even himself. It was an unimaginable thing to do, what he had actually done, in bravery and unconditionally in front of the entire class to risk his own life like that, which he did do, and to just jump right in and do it, regardless of his own life. I shivered still thinking of it, and of how I survived it. I had never seen someone-die, or be shot in front of me. It was horrific, especially someone who-

When that gun went off I honestly prayed how lucky, incredibly lucky he was it did not hit him, Hit Tony, as well like it hit...

I shut my eyes tight and fought back the forming tears. Gritted my teeth to swallow the choke. Felt the clench of the cringe in my heart...I could hardly say or even think upon his name, for if I did it would make it hundredfold worse, the invisible, estranged cursed incidents that seemed to follow morosely about him without any kind of respite. My heart heaved when I thought of it, cramping.

I knew it wasn’t... murder, what Tony did, it, was undeniably self defense- and the knives, both of them, his own and the other one once held to my throat, he had honestly used it, and I thought Tony knew that too, it was for his defense and mine and everyone else’s but I knew deep within, he had never actually killed someone, not yet at the time, or even fully thought of it possibly, and it instantly opened his eyes and evolved him, woke him right up. He roughed many up to the point of bed rest, but he didn’t ever kill someone. Yet now,-he had. He wasn’t charged criminally with anything at all. And I knew he had thought in his mind, this time, it was murder. But it was self defense for everyone. He bashed quite a few up, but he never really... ever had killed them. And I wasn’t sure if he honestly was capable of doing that.

I sighed, inwardly for... he was, now capable of defending himself to that point that was now shown and blatant for all to see it, but since that day, that fateful day past everyone saw him, now saw Tony not as Cagey Coz the bully clown Scaramuche scoundrel, but as an iconic, untouchable brazen knightly hero not to be messed with, at ALL, even more so then before; In a favorable light, not something or someone who was antagonizing and tyrannical just to get what he wanted. He didn’t do it anymore, at all. That part of him had disappeared, drowned away. It was a total turn-about.

He was now Templar Tony, the protector, the risk taker for everyone. He didn’t threaten anyone anymore, he was in fact helping everyone out. He had left his gang, they were history and split up, he was even working part-time with his detective Uncle, his father’s brother as a recruit, monitoring crime and tough to solve cases in the area, and was indeed the co-leader of the school...along with me. That part of him all stopped.

He stopped it and turned it all around, his behavior, his grades, and his reputation, and kept apologizing for it; He was even thinking hinting of taking the Police officer or Private Investigator detective exam, to follow in his deceased father’s footsteps, for he knew much about those things, due to his father. He would make an exemplary detective, an outstanding one, I knew that much, and I felt it was where his niche future wise would be...in that field somehow, for he had a certain advantage with his inborn gifts. That also was a dangerous profession.

I also noticed something within him budding and evolving, something I hadn’t noticed or seen before and a profound respect for others, and something very serious and had matured, changed, different in his eyes, though, as he briefly gazed to me when I opened mine, some kind of ember of lighted, evolved hope, that I had not seen or sensed in a long while.

I nodded to him, silently sighing, staying strong, to his observation of my demeanor as he, Tony walked into the class door and I followed in after. I sat, nestled down in my seat, the exact same seat I had been in all year, and looked over at the other starkly empty desk next to me,... Imre’s vacant, now abandoned desk. There, I had uttered his name, broken the jinx of it, even if it was only silently and in my mind I finally had done it, faced it, my inward demon, my languishing horror of remembrance, of just his heavenly namesake.

Since the very day it, the commotion had erupted Mr. Wilson and the class, the students, the school, would not let nor allow anyone else sit there. It was now a school relic, remaining as is and was for everyone to remember him by, sacrilege if you did sit there. For it was still his.

Everyone would walk by it every day in class and just touch, place, trace a finger or hand on it as they walked on by, as if it was some kind of ritual, to touch it in remembrance and for luck to gain him back...

And I glared over at it, thinking back to everything, how it truly changed me, changed everything for everyone, and as music was such a strong factor in my life, a song came surging to my mind, one I had been singing once to myself every single day he had been gone. My eyes welled up as I thought of it the song from the Musical Phantom of The Opera~ he, Me-love had sung a hyper-romantic song from it before to me, so ardently that night after the ball; this one was Think Of Me~

"Think of me, think of me fondly,

When we've said goodbye...Remember me once in a while

Please promise me you'll try; When you find that, once

Again, you long to take your heart back and be free...I

If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me ...

We never said our love was evergreen, or as

Unchanging as the sea, but if you can still remember,

stop and think of me ..."

Then I imagined the whole entire class chiming in with me...

"Think of all the things we've shared and seen, don't think about the things which might have been ...

Think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned. Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind;

Recall those days, look back on all those times, think of the things we used to do;

there will never be A day, when I won't think of you..."

I then thought, I honestly daydreamed that I heard Tony mumbling, even humming to the tune himself, in my strange phantasmic imagination,

or my own building insanity~

TONY (in back of room)

"Can it be? Can it be Eirloom? Long ago, It seems so long ago,

How young and innocent we were-She may not remember me,

{that way} but I remember her ..."

I just kept singing my musing, my woeful daydream song

within my stagnant mind...

"We never said our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea,

but please promise me, that sometimes you will think-of me..."

I then snapped out of it and pulled myself together, just staring down over at the desk, his desk, softly trailing my fingers over it and then... I jolted, for I saw something on there;

Something was written on the top of the desk in a permanent marker, with Imre’s calligraphic penmanship that I had never even noticed at all before... for I had never examined the top of his desk; never gave it a single thought; I squinted down at it, trembling.

I Love You, Miss Eir, Me-love, Schneewittchen, my Angel to be, Always ~ Pray thee, look down at Your Pen-

I made a noiseless gasp and fought back the tears welling, coming and stared down at my-at the pen I was using...

IT...was Imre’s Pen, his pen. I never realized fully that he had given me HIS PEN that day in class, with Raze’s titanic tantrum, and there was...I couldn’t believe it. There was indeed something written, whittled and scraped, ON IT, on the pen, his pen, besides his initials...as the message on the desk had said to look at my pen-his pen;

Miss You, Me-Love; Cloak; Tony.

I pulled in my breath, staring at it in utter shock, and almost dropped it...

IT WAS TEN O’CLOCK that same night, and I was sitting there in strangled silence in my darkened room, still dressed, Shakespeare texts of my own in front of me, reading poetry, reading those last lines he had written, and I had murmured to each other breathlessly, and my mobile smart phone placed upon the bed table rang. I didn’t care to pick it up or continue my studying, or do anything else for that matter. I just felt like a piece of styrofoam floating atop