TANSTAV part 37

Chapter 10 part 3

Of course, nothing is ever that easy in my life.  Oh, we got home all right, taking the bus.  On the way, I even got a bit of strength back in my limbs (though I still needed help walking anywhere).  But when we got to the apartment, and were in the elevator, a familiar, noxious smell clogged my nostrils.  Don't worry, it wasn't Jessup.  No points for those of you who thought it was him, sorry.  Instead, it was the cloying stench of campfire smoke mixed with too much hair gel and cologne.  I glanced at my girlfriend (it felt so nice to call her that!), and could tell that she could smell it too.  Xen looked as perturbed as I was.

"Is that who I think it is?"

"Unfortunately, yes."  I hesitated.  "If one of you could push the button for the floor below ours, we can slip out, and wait until he goes away."

"Huh?" asked Calla.  "Who is it?"

"It's-"  Before I could finish my sentence, the doors to the elevator opened, and there he was, standing at the end of the hall.  There was no escape.

"You're looking rather...shabby, Tristan.  Good heavens, is that blood?"

"Hi, Art," I growled, as civilly as possible.

Yes, as you may have guessed, it was my 'treasured' brother, Arthur.  There he stood, in his fancy three-piece business suit, already a successful lawyer at the ripe old age of 23 (Personally, I don't know who in their right mind would want to be a lawyer; everyone knows that was a profession invented by demons, for the purpose of making the lives of others more difficult).  His hair was brown, like mine, but his eyes were yellow like our mother's.  In my opinion, he used far too much gel, so his hair would stay flat and slicked into place; it had no freedom.  He had a black ivory comb sticking out of his jacket pocket, and also a bulge that was probably extra gel, showing just how given to vanity he could be about his hair.  Every bit of him, from head to toe, was absolutely spotless and tidy.  It reminded me so much of Father, I could barely restrain myself from hunching my shoulders and glaring at the floor, my typical pose during one of his lectures.

"What are you here for?" I asked, stepping out of the elevator, with some help from Xen and Calla.  The latter was staring back and forth between me and Arthur; obviously she had figured out the connection between us, and was trying to figure out what would happen next.

"Do I need a reason to come and visit my little brother?" he asked.

"Typically, yes," I replied.  I had only seen him twice since my fleeing home; the first time had been to try and persuade me to go back (after finally tracking me down), and the second was to bring me a message from Father telling me how foolhardy I was to try having a job as a detective in a ‘hicktown.’  Neither meeting had ended well.

"So, what's the message now?"  The three of us began staggering down the hallway, with my brother walking alongside.

"No message.  I merely came to see how you were getting on in life.  Making sure that you are adjusting well to a life of poverty."

I didn't believe he gave a shard of granite about my welfare.  No, in all likelihood this was him trying to flaunt his wealth, show off how much better off he was than I, because he'd allowed our dad to teach him to heel on command, and I hadn't.  There was always an ulterior motive in our family; we make the Kennedys and the Tudors look like the Brady Bunch.  The only difference is that, to my knowledge, none of us has ever had an affair, or murdered our brother.  But if any of them had, it wouldn't surprise me too much.

"I'm doing fine, thanks," I said dryly.  "I've just cleared up a particularly nasty case, and I'd like to go lie down now, so if you'll excuse me-"

Arthur finally seemed to notice Calla and Xen.  He frowned.

"Who are these?"

"Xenobia Keller," Xen introduced herself.

"Calla Gardiner," Calla squeaked.  "I'm his assistant."

"Keller...Keller..."  Arthur mused the name, ignoring my assistant altogether, ticking me off even more.  Finally, his eyes lit up.

"You were our neighbor!  That girl that Father always wanted Tristan to stay away from--"

As he realized what he was saying, and what this meant, he cut himself off.  His face became shocked, as he scrutinized the way Xen was supporting me, and how my arm was draped around her shoulders.  She started to move away; being seen showing affection in public embarrassed her.  I only clutched her tighter to me.  Since we had basically let the imp out of the bag, there seemed no point in hiding things now.

"Tristan," said Arthur in a strangled tone, "am I to understand that you are in a-a physical relationship with this-this-"

"I am here, you know," said Xen testily, "You don't have to talk about me like I'm not.  And typically, I refer to myself as a chimera."

"And to answer your question, yes, Arthur, she is my girlfriend," I said, standing up as straight as possible.  "Actually, to be accurate, she's my fiancée now."

I thought my brother was about to have an apoplectic fit.  His face went dark gray (the gargoyle equivalent of blushing, or going red with anger), and he gasped, "You can't do this, Tristan!  You can't sully your bloodline by marrying a half-breed freak!"

"I can, and I will!" I shouted.  "Don't you dare call her a freak!"

I stepped free of the girls, and advanced in his direction, fists clenched.  Except for some staggering, I was able to keep my balance.

Arthur, though good in a verbal debate (which is just a fancy word for squabbling, in my opinion), and a hero on his high school air hockey team (by which I mean literally in the air), has never had to be in an actual fight before.  Ever since I became a detective, and even before that, I've had several.  I was pretty sure that, even if I couldn't actually take him, I could at least give him a good wallop or two.

My brother was unwilling to stay and face me.  He pushed past us, and headed for the elevator.

"Father will hear about this!" he called back over his shoulder.  "He will be furious!"

"Good!  I hope so!" I shot back.  "Tell him he and Mom are invited to the wedding, too!"

The elevator doors slammed shut on Arthur's furious expression.  Xen looked at me.

"Are they really invited?"

"It doesn't matter," I replied with a shrug, "They're not gonna come, anyway."

About a week later (after I finally got a new phone), the dreaded call came.  A fierce voice said through the receiver, in response to my query of ‘Hello?’, "What is the meaning of this news I have heard from Arthur?!"

"Hi, Dad, nice to hear from you too," I said, after a moment.  I had regained most of my strength over the week, and was feeling unusually bold.  Of course, if Dad had been there in person, I would probably have cringed and shrunk before him, like I had back home.

"Don't be impertinent, Tristan!  Are you or are you not intending to marry that girl?!"

"...Yes.  Yes, I am going to marry Xen.  In October."

"I forbid it.  And I forbid you to continue having that-that human as an assistant."

There was no pleading, no threatening, no explanations, just forbidding.  I snorted in disgust.

"I’m not your puppet, Dad.  You can't stop me.  I love Xen, and am going to marry her, whether you like it or not.  And Calla needs me, I can’t send her away.  Besides, she’s a mage.  She’s not an exact human."

"Tristan, if you ever wish to set foot in my house again, or see even a penny of your inheritance, you will comply with my wishes!"

"Okay.  Then we are agreed.  Bye."  And with that, I hung up.

Needless to say, I have not heard from him, or anyone else in my family, in the past three months.  But, since I have received a raise from the chief, as well as a rewarding payment from the Jorgensen and Skald families, and Xen's paintings have become incredibly popular (it's amazing what sudden fame will do for you), meaning she is getting more money too, I don't especially care.  Of course, there are times when I wish things could have been different between us...Oh, well, water under the burning bridge, right?

Jessup was sent back to prison, with security around his cell (and everyone else's, for that matter) increased tenfold, so hopefully nobody can escape, or be smuggled out, again.  Despite his pleading insanity, Fleming was convicted, and also sent to Chernabog.  This has all given me immense satisfaction.  So now, I can only sit in my office, or in my apartment, and wait for my next case to arise.