02.3Zan

*



"Hmm, if it's excess stimuli that's bothering you, perhaps...." Zanen mused, but he was interrupted by his mobile phone. The text tone rang out loud. Zanen blinked and picked up the phone in front of him. He saw that it was from Demitrius, hesitated, and opened it to read the message.

         Just saw part of the letter from His Majesty. What have I always told you? Abomination!! You and your whore mother are finished forever. I don't know where you are but good riddance! You will never be anything after all.



Rage that Zanen had never known soared through his being and he jumped to his feet. His face was tinged pink and now it clearly showed the raw agony he felt. Lucy scuttled behind Eve and Nalo put his hands over his ears and cowered. In an emotional frenzy Zanen speed-dialed Demitrius back and in his trembling haste his thumb also hit the speaker button.

"So you are still alive, little brother," Demitrius answered.

At the sound of his voice Zanen lost all possible thought of restraint or poise. "You heartless bastard," he seethed, trembling from head to foot.

"Hah, it sounds like I finally got to you, Zanny," Demitrius laughed.

Zanen burst out in frustration. "COWARD!" he shouted into the phone. "DON'T HIDE BEHIND THE ATLANTIC OCEAN. SAY THAT TO MY FACE!"

"Whoa you're shouting," Demitrius stated and his voice was riddled with complete shock.

"I don't care what you think of me, nobody cares about your opinion!" Zanen spat into the phone furiously. "But you have disrespected us for the last time!"

"You don't have to care about my opinion, 'cause nobody around here gives a damn about you," Demitrius yelled back.

Another boy's voice spoke. "You are not welcome back here! Enjoy your exile."

"Shut up, Artem!" Zanen hollered and he felt his throat strain but he was so worked up he didn't care. "I will enjoy it! You are not welcome here either. STAY out of England! You...Demitrius! YOU CALL MY MOTHER A WHORE! How dare you?! She was a Queen! You're the whore, greedy for power, power, power, and no matter what you will never come to power honorably, honestly, you murdering schemers!"

"Zanen!" Demitrius cried. "Say all the rude things you want but you'll have me and Artem and Ana and His Majesty to answer to! What are you going to do about it? One day you will be kneeling before me. You were never a brother to me, just something always in my way."

"Oh I'm so heartbroken, after all this time I thought you liked me or something," Zanen sneered into the phone. "Tell me something I don't know, Demi! I don't need to be part of a family like you and - what - I'll never let you lord over anyone, not over me or any of the people! You will never, ever, ever, ever deserve it!"

"Watch your mouth," Artem barked. "Besides, who else is going to keep it secret that you smuggled your phone out of here? You disobeyed His Majesty, you're not just a troublemaker anymore; that's legally punishable!"

"I wasn't talking to you, Artem," Zanen said angrily. "Don't make up nonsense! You can't bully and threaten me either."

"We will tell him," Demitrius and Artem said in unison. Zanen was seeing red and he was too upset to string together a comeback.

"And how about you tell me something I don't know, Zanen," Demitrius challenged loudly. "Tell me, did she beg for mercy? Was it gruesome and bloody, or just quick and painless but still bloody enough for you to get your hands dirty?"

Zanen gripped the top part of the phone and bent it backwards; the pieces snapped apart and the screen flickered to black. He slammed the phone on the table, seized the Golish screwdriver and stabbed the keypad through with all of his strength. His aim was precise and he crushed the half in one blow. It took him all of his restraint to hold his arm up and not continue to pulverize the phone. He felt out of control and was frightened of himself. Tears blurred his eyesight and he took painful uneven breaths through his clenched teeth.

He released the screwdriver, stumbled back into the chair and covered his face. He was weak and exhausted and wanted nothing more than to curl up and die. Did he have any reason to live anymore? He was finished and his spirit was finally broken.

Meanwhile the Bonaventures were frozen and thunderstruck. Avery and Nalo looked at their parents helplessly. Llewellyn exhaled slowly and ran his thumb across his brow; Lucy was clinging to one of his arms in fear.

"Oh my goodness!" Eve exclaimed and she burst into tears. She got to her feet in an empathetic panic.

Zanen kept his face hidden and dug his elbows into his knees. His head was swimming and his heart, his heart...a sharp pain was deep in his heart and it was spreading through his chest like a flaming chill. But he felt something warm and soft drape around his shoulders and a gentle hand on his back.

Miraculously he felt his spirit lighten. The pain in his chest lessened ever so slightly and he was able to breathe again. His tears did not spill. He opened his eyes and looked around.

Eve had pulled up the chair next to him; a blanket that looked as though it had been woven with hemp was exuding warmth and comfort into Zanen's body. Eve's brown eyes sparkled with tears but her expression remained kind.

"That was heavy and difficult, darling," she said sympathetically. Zanen gazed at her with uncertainty but did not make to shake her away. "You are welcome to stay here as long as you wish, we will support you. Nalo and Avery have their share of brotherly squabbles but it must be very hard to have a falling out..."

"F-falling out?" Zanen croaked. He dried his cheeks on the back of his hand. He let out a hiccough and covered his mouth quickly. After a moment he told her, "We had no relationship to fall out of, madam."

"Still, words like that..." Eve looked severely troubled.

"I'm sorry, it was inappropriate," Zanen moaned and he buried his face again, now feeling mortified on top of everything else. "So stupid...I never should have called...I knew what I was getting into by calling. I just...couldn't take him anymore!" His fists balled up again and he clenched them so tight his knuckles turned white; he felt his throat constrict and the tears resumed before he could stop them.

"Zanen..." Eve sighed sadly. "Dear boy, you are clearly a doting son. I am truly sorry. Your mother was a queen in your eyes."

"No!" Zanen growled into his palms. "She was the Princess of Netherlands before she married him! Her twin sister Asila is the ruler there now."

"Oh...but then, why don't you live with her?" Hestia blinked in confusion.

Zanen peeked out over the top of his fists and stared at his demolished phone. He shrugged and mumbled, "Probably political...the only reason Americus hasn't taken over Holland is because of Lady Amira. Now...me being there would be a symbol of Americus having a hold over them. Just like..." He pushed away the weight in his throat even as guilt overtook him. "I d-don't know if I'm over thinking thi-things...I don't kn-know what to do..."

"Honey, what are you talking about?" Eve asked with a soothing note.

Zanen raised his head to glare at Llewellyn through his damp eyes; Llewellyn was half raised out of his seat. "I h-hope your people are organized! Don't let them t-take over here. Things are made to happen...I know now...they killed her so they c-can use me...as a catalyst!"

"Zanen, are you sure you can't give me more information?" Llewellyn asked urgently.

"Th-they expect you'll kill me," Zanen was not going to change his mind on his theory. "They w-want you to m-make the first m-move...k-killing me would be act of war and...excuse...to invade."

         "What if we don't kill you?" Eve demanded.          

         Zanen forced his brain to think through the fog of emotion. He blinked rapidly and his face turned to a focused scowl. "If they're determined to make it look like retaliation...they'll make sure I'm dead."

"Now, now, Zanen," Eve said in alarm, "I know you must be hurt from your brothers, but with all the resources and influence the Ubels have, why would they do such a thing? The emperor wouldn't do that to his Crown Prince...to his son."

Zanen swallowed and realized he could not voice his explanation. He reached around for the blanket and took it off his shoulders; he stood up and handed it to a wide-eyed Eve. He took the step toward the table. He put the screwdriver in the case with the volt pin and the GPS into his pocket. He carefully collected the shards of the cell phone and put each tiny piece into his other pocket.

"Zanen, man?" Avery prompted.

Zanen stepped round behind his chair. Dark circles were under his red eyes but he had managed to stop crying. He stood up straight and turned to Llewellyn again.

"It may seem harsh or strange to you, but General Bruce is behind this," he said rather sternly. "I can't explain much more..." he inhaled deeply, "sorry I just can't. It is up to you if you want to believe me or not. Now please excuse me."

"Please wait for a moment," Llewellyn spoke and raised his hand to placate him. Zanen betrayed some of the irritation that stirred inside him. He raised his eyebrows to prompt Llewellyn to speak. The man lowered his voice and said, "As Eve said you are welcome here. But do not have such anxiety...as of now I don't believe you, but that is because I think you're panicking. I do not blame you."

Zanen closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and let out a sigh. "Mr. Bonaventure, not one round of administration has reigned without some form of subterfuge or murder," he said in his subdued voice. He fixed his strengthened gaze on Llewellyn. "While it looks like arguing over titles, often the gains are complex and secretive." He picked up his jacket and cravat and folded them over his left arm. Zanen dug deep into the resolve he kept as his defense and reminded himself that his mental state was what determined his strength or weakness. He could not be emotional; he could not choose to focus on the argument or the horrid truth.

Zanen's face became less tired; it was cool and reserved, his default state of being.

He walked away from the table but before he left the room, he turned and stood in the face of the family's stares. He looked directly at Eve. "Thank you for the supper, Madam." He bowed out of habit and left before more questions could be asked of him.

He was in a blind haze his entire walk back to his room. All he knew now was that he had to take action. The board was officially set. Ivar had arranged everything so the Wickeds were the white pieces on the chessboard and he could determine what to do after their first decisive action. But what could he, Zanen, do?

Zanen slipped into his room. The lights automatically illuminated. He locked the door behind him. His restless eyes landed upon his luggage in front of the wardrobe. He crossed the room and approached his suitcase. Working methodically, he placed his clothing by his right side and piled his books up next to him on his left. 

He lifted up what appeared to be the bottom of the case; it revealed a secret compartment. Zanen glared at the radio device, dagger and pistol before him. He had secured these by breaking into Robert's office mere hours before he had left. He had to defend himself no matter what. At this point, if anything happened to him, the Bonaventures would be blamed. 

A knock sounded from the door. A familiar voice said, "I'm back, Prince Zanen."

Zanen took a deep breath. He closed the case slowly. He got to his feet, stepped over his sprawling possessions and unlocked the door. He opened it. There stood Eric, a large rucksack on his back and a small girl hanging onto his hand. She had to have been around six or seven and her appearance was surprising. She had high cheekbones, slightly tanned skin, dark eyes and shoulder-length black hair.

"Prince," said Eric, "this is my daughter Chantra, but calling her Callie is fine." He put his hand to her back and she stepped forward. "Say hello to Zanen, dear."

Zanen managed to heave a smile onto his face. "It's nice to meet you, Callie." He looked up at Eric. "You missed dinner."

"Oh, we ate already," Callie said, smiling. She paused and let out an enormous yawn.

"Alright," Eric puffed with gusto, "time for bed, kiddo."

Zanen retreated to the leather sofa while Eric got the little girl ready for bed. Zanen stared at an open book on his lap, trying his best not to listen to Eric reading a bed time story for Callie. This made him feel further separated from Miss Emily, the only person who had ever done these parental things with him. He kept picturing her tear-stained face as she walked him to the plane...he was hardly able to bear being separated and her tears didn't help, but he had remained stoic and bade her goodbye as he would any other servant. As he sat there now, replaying the parting, regret began to gnaw at him.

Half an hour later Eric's voice fell away and the room was filled with Callie's calm breathing. Eric kissed the top of her head and tucked the covers around her. He then joined Zanen at the sofa.

"She's comfortable at being in new places," Zanen remarked quietly.

"We've had to move several times during her life," Eric explained in just above a whisper. He inhaled deeply and his face became strained. "She's comfortable anywhere I am. Her- her mother passed away nearly three ago from cancer. She was a Cambodian-Italian...her father traveled there as a missionary from Rome. Maria and I lived in Cambodia until we had her. Well, it's been Callie and me ever since."

Zanen knew Eric felt a desperate need to say these things, but that knowledge couldn't stop the added weight this story brought to his heart. Here was another child who had lost a parent. A surge of mixed pity and understanding towards Chantra seemed to fill his stomach.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he whispered.

"Well, you..." Eric broke off. "Prince Zanen, is that book in Arabic?"

Zanen shook himself out of his reverie. He glanced at Eric and back at the book. "Yes, and yes, I can read it."

"Incredible," Eric breathed. "How many languages do you speak?"

Relieved to be changing the conversation, Zanen seized upon the subject. "Lady Amira taught me Arabic and Dutch. She actually never spoke English to me and didn't allow me to speak back in English. I use French and German and study old history papers in original German."

"I had no idea Lady Amira was Middle Eastern," Eric stated in awe. "How did the combination of Arabic and Dutch happen?"

It took Zanen a couple moments to recall the story. "A clan from Iraq that apparently descends from Babylonian kings was overthrown by the current government of the country." He paused and cracked his knuckles, lost in memories of conversations with his mother. "This clan was the first Muslim group to settle in the Netherlands. While the main leaders of the country were focused on colonizing Africa my grandmother Fathiyah Ghusun Midhaf, the daughter of the leader of the clan, married the Duke of Holland, Christopher van Zanen."

"Van Zanen?" Eric repeated. His eyes widened in confusion.

Zanen had not thought of this story for years. He had never told anyone about it before, not even the brothers and sisters with whom he had grown. "Lady Amira probably named me Zanen because it was convenient," he whispered hoarsely. He cleared his throat. "Van Zanen and Fathiyah had just two children, Amira and Asila. I have cousins who are princes."

"Prince Zanen," Eric gasped, his voice shaking in reverence, "You are connected to royalty no matter where you follow your family line."

Zanen sighed and blinked rapidly as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Why did talking about this make him so emotional? He cleared his throat again. "I know, and that is a main reason why I am Crown Prince. I am one of the younger princes, but I was chosen because of my lineage and Her Ladyship's legacy."

All of a sudden, the sound of a terribly angry voice filled the second floor hallway.

"Don't touch him, Thompson!" Llewellyn thundered. Across the room, Callie sat bolt upright in the bed.

"Get out of my way, Bonaventure," said a deep voice laced with malice. Zanen dived over to his suitcase, plunged his arm in and drew the pistol, breathing hard. Eric ran over to Callie and dragged her out of the bed.

"I said don't touch him!"

"Bonaventure!" the evil-sounding voice shouted, "Your glory days are over! Public sentiment has turned against you. You, the Warlocks, and the council have been too easy on these damn Normals! You are a mortal loving fool who refuses to kill them when you have the chance."

"What authority do you have, William?" shrieked a woman's voice, Eve's.

"Legal authority doesn't matter anymore," William snarled. "This is what the people would want."

With shaking hands, Zanen raised his pistol and pointed it at the closed door. He heard Eric gasp but didn't spare him a glance. His heart was racing. They were going to try to kill him.

"Now get out of my way!" There was a bang and a scream. The door burst open and a tall man with dark features and a thin black mustache entered the room. He spotted Zanen crouching behind his luggage immediately and seemed blind to all else. He raised a thin strip of metal and pointed at the Prince. The man laughed cruelly. "Are you going to shoot me, boy?"

Zanen's hands holding the gun trembled. His mind was petrified by fear. He didn't know what to think or do.

"We'll proclaim your death to the world," William hissed with vindictive pleasure. "Emperor Ubel won't know what hit him."

A mental image of Amira flashed before Zanen's eyes. He suddenly found his voice. "Don't do this," he cried, "or you're going to lose everything!"

"This is your end, Prince Zanen," William announced coldly.

"Your Highness!" Eric yelled from the shadows.

William turned his weapon on him in a flash, but from behind Zanen the far window smashed as a thick green vine shot across the room and struck the man over the head. He crumpled to the floor with a thud. Eve ran into the room with Llewellyn on her heels; the latter was bleeding profusely out of his shoulder.

         "You cannot harm me," he told them urgently, his voice cracking from the panic. "It's what His Majesty wants. You must believe me. He will declare war if I am killed by Wickeds!"

"Put the gun down," Llewellyn said in a calm tone. "We aren't going to kill you."

"The three of you stay in this room," Eve said, pointing her hand at the windows over which thick ivy grew and obscured. "We will keep you safe."

The Wicked husband and wife bent down and carried the limp body out of the room. Callie began to cry loudly. She hugged Eric around the middle and he held her to him tensely.

"Wickeds," Eric moaned in terror. "This isn't good, Zanen. No wonder that man wanted to kill you. Isn't the Emperor taking over the Wickeds?"

Zanen couldn't reply. He finally lowered the gun but he was still shaking slightly. Before he or Eric could think of the next thing to say the sound of more shouting came from below them. They couldn't make out the words. There were several consecutive screams and a bang that shook the floor. Callie wailed again. Eric lifted her securely into his arms and went to stand beside Zanen who got to his feet, bracing himself for anything unexpected. There was a single long, drawn-out cry of bone-chilling pain. Zanen dropped the pistol. There was another sound like an explosion and without warning Zanen felt the floor disappear from underneath him. All around him, Eric and Callie, the floor erupted, the walls were blasted down and the ceiling above them rained plaster on their heads. Zanen was falling, falling, he heard Callie bawling next to him...

His feet made contact with a hard surface; pain shot through his legs and they buckled, sending him crashing to the ground. He heard Eric land and topple next to him with a grunt.

He stared around wildly. They appeared to be in what had been the Bonaventure's living room. It was unrecognizable. The shattered windows were still raining shards of glass over the torn furniture. Pages ripped out of books were fluttering to the ground. The room was destroyed and covered in a thick layer of dust. Half of the room had burst into flame and turned the dust into smoke.

Zanen coughed. "H-Hello?!"

He tried to stand. An unbearable protest in his ankle made him realize it was broken. He pushed himself into a crawling position. Next to him, Eric called out as well. Horrified, Zanen saw that furniture was not the only thing lying on the floor; he made out some bodies lying motionless. There was a rustle. A figure was rising from behind the overturned couch. Zanen squinted through waves of pain.

"Nalo?" he whispered.

Nalo Bonaventure's visage came into view as he focused. Silent tears ran down his shocked face. A strip of metal was held loosely at his side. It slid out of his grip and clattered to the floor. Nalo followed it down as though in slow motion. He and Zanen stared directly into each others' eyes, frozen and breathless. Nalo's eyes rolled into his head and he dropped face down into the torn hearthrug.

"Nalo!"