B2 Chapter 32 - A Good Man’s Reputation Is At Stake

Rumors like this could end Samuel’s career.
They could ruin his life.

And yet people spread them without a second thought.
Without verification.

It is, frankly, disgusting rubber necking.
And nothing more.
—[REDACTED]

Guy held Kiera by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. It was a desperate stare, like he was trying to hold her in place with his gaze as much as his hands. If she was being honest, they were the more effective restraint. Both of his efforts were gentle, as always. Contact without force. Two undeniable reminders of her presence and the safety they provided. Not because he could do anything to protect her. Tank that he may have been, he wasn’t a fighter of any kind. He was generally nonconfrontational in all ways that he didn’t think were funny. If her father marched into the room and decided to kill them both, he would be as helpless as she was. He didn’t provide that kind of safety.

No. To Kiera, Guy was like the safety of warmth from the cold. Of paint over cracks in an aging wall. He believed her. Even when he didn’t believe her entirely, he believed her. Which didn’t make sense to her for most of their friendship. The entire time she and Guy were planning her escape. She didn’t understand how some part of him could still reserve space for her father’s innocence, all while helping her plot behind the same man’s back. But that was why he was safe. Because he wasn’t trying to help her hurt anyone. She wasn’t trying to hurt anyone herself. He just believed she was in danger. Because she’d said she was. And because, whatever turned out to be the truth, he was going to help get her to tangible safety before he asked any further questions.

“We got this,” he insisted, and she could hear the tremor in his voice. She could see the terror in his steadfast eyes like violent waves in a distant sea. He was more afraid than she was. Because he didn’t know for sure whether her father was as dangerous as she claimed, but he believed that she wasn’t safe. Which meant he wasn’t safe while helping her. Kiera’s father was a powerful man, and in more ways than one. In Flag, a green healer could end a young man’s life in an instant. With either his hands or his words, depending on his mood. And Guy would be the target of both if the two were caught. “We got this, Kiera. We have everything planned perfectly. We’re getting you out of here, and he won’t be able to undo this. It’s just one night. One night of danger, and he’ll never poison you again. We got this.”

Kiera returned his gaze. She tried to offer him as much comfort as he offered her. But she could feel the shaking in his hands, however slight it may have been. 

Guy was a Tank. It was a simple, common calling. One often associated with the straightforward and stalwart. People always thought anyone with the calling was perpetually unfazed and unbothered. Kiera had thought the same. Because of Guy, in fact. But then she’d gotten to know him. She’d confided in him. That wasn’t what he was like at all. Guy’s calling fit his personality perfectly. Because he was afraid. He was always afraid of everything. She’d never met someone so nervous, once all the armor was peeled back. He was afraid of the mist. He was afraid of loss. He was afraid of pain. That was why he had his calling. 

He didn’t want to get hurt.

He was helping her anyway. 

“Thank you, Guy,” Kiera whispered. It was slight, but his hands steadied a little as she spoke. “I…” she trailed off. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the boy yet. But she felt like she needed to say more. Before her dad made it home. Before Guy stuck his neck out and risked everything so that Kiera could finally have a life. But she never got the chance. She and Guy froze as the alarm went off on her desk. 

That was it. If they spoke again after that, her father would be in range to hear them. They’d tested it thoroughly over the past year. Her dad always came home at the same time. He always walked at the same pace. He always stopped to buy Kiera a sweet potato from the stall outside his office. And at his degree, he was always close enough to hear everything that happened in his house by 19:18. And he always listened. They couldn’t speak anymore. Not about anything real, anyway. The alarm was set for 19:08, just in case. But even that was too close.

Guy nodded to Kiera, and she nodded back. They left her room and made their way down the stairs. Samuel would hear that, of course. And he’d be furious. He’d been very clear about the rules on visitors. Especially in her room, and especially when he wasn’t home. His daughter was a canvas to display how much he loved her. She was a portrait of his kindness and self-sacrificial nature. She was not to be soiled by salacious rumors from judgmental neighbors. Kiera didn't even think he’d care if she did sleep with Guy. But he’d be livid if people around town said she did, whether it was true or not.

He hadn’t always been like that. At least, not as far as Kiera remembered. But once she’d become his canvas, he’d changed. 

But that was going to work to their advantage this time. She had a very narrow window to act, and she had to do it while her father was in the room. But her illusions didn't work on him. She’d never make the switch without him noticing. Not unless he was entirely consumed by a significant distraction. Something that made him see red and block out everything else. 

That was what Guy had volunteered for. It was incredibly brave for a boy so nervous at heart.

Guy took his shirt off, revealing the deep scars that decorated his entire torso. Something he’d earned when he’d awakened his calling so many years before. Created by a talent that resisted her father's potions. This would help in two ways. It would remind Samuel of something he had failed to do, and it would imply an egregious violation of his rules. It would provoke her father’s ire instantly and perfectly. They’d just have to hope it wasn’t too effective. 

As if to punctuate this thought, Guy unbuttoned the top of his pants, causing Kiera to blush furiously. She had to admit, she was possibly less confused about her feelings for him than she’d thought. Thankfully, that was as far as he got. It was a slight extra step to ensure their plan worked, although Kiera worried it would be a step over the line. She couldn’t effectively communicate this, however. So she had to let him descend the stairs with mock stealth.

She was forced to wait where she was until she heard her father arrive home. He’d expect her to remain in her room and put herself together. She couldn't move until the argument had already started, or he’d know something was wrong.

It felt like ages before she heard the front door open and close. Long enough that she was worried it would be obvious Guy wanted to be caught. That was at least seventy percent her anxiety skewing her perception of time, and she knew that. But that didn’t stop the effect from self-perpetuating.

It didn’t help that her father was so soft-spoken. Eons passed after he closed the door, and she heard nothing. He was certainly home, and he was definitely livid. But her father didn't shout. He was gentle. He was polite. And when he was cruel, and angry, and harsh… he cut as deep as he could with a whisper.

“No, sir!” Guy said loudly. “I’m just very proud of my shapely nipples, and thought they might make her feel better!” There was his usual armor. The best defense he had when he was nervous about a conversation. Acting like an idiot.

For how stupid it was, it was also incredibly brave and impossibly kind. And it would definitely work.

Kiera started to move, Guy's voice signaling that the plan was in motion. If anything was going to distract her father enough, it would be Guy talking about his own shapely nipples. 

Still, she was careful as she took each step down the stairs. Guy’s voice stopped just before her foot touched wood, and she froze. Her dad was speaking again, and she could hear the murmur of it this time. She held her breath. Her heart was beating too quickly, which made her want to take deeper breaths. But her dad would hear that. So she choked as nearly silent poison assaulted her only friend in the world.

“Well, that’s a really good point, actually. I’ll give you that. But have you considered that I am a teenage boy, and your daughter is cute?” Guy asked. 

He was going to get himself killed.

But he was speaking, so Kiera moved. She made it down the stairs and held in a sigh of relief as she saw her father’s back. Guy had managed to position her father so she could move without being seen. Thankfully, Guy managed to avoid reacting to her at all. His eyes didn't so much as twitch in her direction, even as she entered his line of sight. Part of that was practice, and part of it was the intense focus he was keeping on Samuel. It was impressive either way, and it allowed Kiera to creep forward.

“Guy. I am being very careful to remain calm,” Samuel said. “I am doing this despite your persistent disrespect. But it is important that you understand. I am not doing this for your benefit. You should feel neither safe nor confident as a result of my mild demeanor. I am doing this because my daughter is sick, and I do not wish to upset her. Do not imagine that this means I am not dangerous. Think very carefully before replying to me again. I expect a direct and honest answer. What are you doing here?”

A chill ran down Kiera's spine. She could tell Guy felt the same. She’d rarely seen her father so furious, and the words weren’t bluster. The calm was more dangerous than shouting would have been, and it made the air taste like poison. With her heart pounding nearly hard enough that her father might’ve heard it, Kiera held her tail against her side with one hand. She didn’t trust herself to keep it away from every piece of furniture in the cramped living room. Even if she only needed to pass the banister and the sofa to reach her destination.

She was so close. She could see the flask on the coffee table. Guy had timed everything perfectly, despite the obvious tension in his entire body. Her father was a creature of habit. He had a potion of his own. One he kept with him at all times. Kiera had thought it was alcohol for a while; the smell wasn’t right. It was like fresh grass and turpentine, but too sweet. And he never acted drunk. It was something he made with his talents, she was sure of it. She didn’t know what it was for, but he never went without it. Which meant he never left it unattended. But he always took a deep drink from it when he made it home.

Kiera pulled a syringe from her pocket with her free hand. It was one of her father’s. She knew exactly what this potion was for. She used to administer it to her mother every day. A sedative. It was the only way her mother could sleep, near the end. That was how she knew it would work on a Category Green. And exactly what dose to give her father. To knock him out until she’d already boarded the train and enrolled at Chromatic Academy. He wouldn’t be able to pull her out of school so easily. Not without an extremely good reason. 

She only had a small window to drug his flask. It had to be right after he made it home, and before he drank from it within the first few minutes. There was no other time she could create a distraction. No other time she’d have a chance. She reached the coffee table where the worn flask waited. She put the syringe in her mouth, closing only her lips around the glass. Her teeth would make a noise, as would grabbing the flask while she still held it. She allowed herself to breathe as slowly as possible, to prevent the sound of even that. She had to extend her arm further than she’d hoped to reach her target. Her father had left it on the far side, which meant she would have to make more noise to get to it directly. So she stretched, and managed to press her fingers against either side. 

She couldn’t move too quickly. Just the steel scraping the glass surface below it would mean the end of her plan. And if this failed… she would die. She knew that for a fact. She’d watched it happen. She used her talent to create an illusion of confidence. Her heart slowed, and her fingers steadied. She pressed her fingers together and gingerly lifted the flask, all while listening intently to the calm but charged conversation near the door. 

She started unscrewing it slowly, reapplying her talent at every slight noise as the lid moved. She had a full syringe, just in case, but she only needed about a tenth of it. She was so close. Then, she heard her father speak.

“I can’t say I’m pleased to hear that, considering how ill my daughter is. It’s not safe for her to indulge your whims like that. She needs her rest. I’d like you to leave her alone, in the future. I will be keeping a closer eye on her. Don't come here again. Now get dressed, and don’t let anyone see you leave,” he said.

Kiera froze, her eyes widening as she watched her father’s back turn. She needed more time.

“I can’t do that!” Guy blurted.

Samuel paused, then turned back toward the blond. “And why, exactly, is that?” he asked. His words were louder than anything he’d said so far, and everyone could hear the threat in them. But Guy had promised to help Kiera, so he was apparently going to follow through regardless.

“She’s…” he trailed off, then took a deep breath. “She’s pregnant. I can’t just abandon her.”

Kiera didn’t blush at the lie. She didn’t care at all if it was embarrassing. It was too much. It was something her father couldn’t hide, had it been true. And that made it more than upsetting. That made Guy a threat. She’d warned him against any lies of that nature. Anything that might hurt her father’s reputation. Anything he couldn’t cover up.

For a brief moment, she convinced herself this one would be okay. Because her father was silent, at first. He didn’t say anything right away, and she could almost believe he was going to maintain his composure. 

Then, she saw the green crystal and mist forming around his hands. 

She dropped the flask.

She let go of her tail and let it crash into the furniture around her. Her ears flattened against her head, and she bolted toward the pair.

She could already smell it. 

The toxin in the air. 

The death. 

No one would question it, if Guy died in the house of a green. Even if they did, they wouldn’t say anything. Not in Flag, where there was no one to really challenge him. Even the local lancer team was only yellow. 

He turned at the sound, his eyes widening in surprise. But the crystal didn’t stop. Kiera was under no illusion that it would. Because Guy’s death wouldn’t be enough. If Samuel wanted to preserve his reputation, he’d have to rush through his plan for her. She’d need to get a lot more ill, a lot more quickly. After that lie, she’d be dead at the end of the month. 

Hell, she might even be buried next to Guy.

She didn’t really remember the next few moments. 

She remembered choking. 

She remembered blood from Guy’s eyes and nose.

She remembered tasting the same herself.

And she remembered pressing her thumb down on the plunger.

The needle had been sharp enough to pierce the skin of a Category Green. It had been for her mother, after all. It must have been the surprise of her presence that allowed her to get to her father and pierce his arm with it. But she couldn’t remember. All she knew was that she’d injected him with it, and she’d given him the entire dosage. Not the tenth that was safe. Not what she needed to knock him out. 

Everything.

She and Guy coughed on the gas that had started to poison them, even as it dissipated. They choked on their nerves with equal urgency. It took them too long to get their bearings. So for several minutes, neither could process what had happened. Neither realized when Samuel fell, or when his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Neither of them really understood the convulsing.

When they could finally breathe again, their plan had failed. But it had also succeeded. The man at their feet was still, and his eyes were open. And Guy had no doubts left about the type of man Samuel Mulberry had been. 

Kiera could physically feel his horror as he touched Samuel’s throat and found no pulse. This hadn’t been the plan. And neither of them knew how to face it. But both of them had armor against it. Kiera poured clarity into her talent, and suddenly everything was alright. She went from trembling under the weight of her own actions to calm and composed. She wiped blood from her face and smiled at her friend. He still shook as he tried to process what he was looking at. But he answered that anxiety with the same false confidence he always had. His own emotional defenses rising, he smiled back.

“Well, shit. That went poorly, huh?” he said.

“It didn’t go well,” she joked in response.

“Well. It’ll buff right out, probably. Come on. Let’s get him to his bed. Then we should probably go straight to the train.”