Chapter Six

Dru left the seminar room hurriedly. He darted down the hallway and stepped behind a stone column. He fished out his pocket-talker and dialed his uncle's private line. Grigoras Vihesi answered the call with a gruffness that veiled the genuine affection he had for his nephew.

Dru was more a son to him than a nephew, anyway. Grigoras's younger brother, Belok, was an absolute waster of a husband and a father. He was frequently seen about town stumbling in intoxication and in the company of women other than Dru's mother. Vihesi had long since given up hope that his brother would pull himself together and live up to responsibilities. Instead, Grigoras had Belok placed in a menial civic job to keep him out of harm's way. Grigoras cared for Ignition and his mother, Aurelia, dutifully.

A weak woman, Aurelia was capable only of ensuring her son was fed and clothed. She rarely spoke out. She had the presence of a leaden shadow dragging behind the glittering star that was Dru.

Aurelia was far more likely to approach her brother-in-law in times of need than her useless husband. They slept in separate rooms. She only noticed Belok's presence when he imposed it on her by barging through a door in a drunken rage or snoring disgustingly on the kitchen floor. She merely stepped around him and carried on with her one interest, embroidering flowers.

She would escape into the stitches as she pierced the cloth. She became the taut thread, the stitch that took a surprising turn, or the painful, finite knot. She took shape in the silkiness of a satin-stitched flower. Sometimes Aurelia imagined gruesome things— like sewing Belok's hideous, bulbous lips closed—but other times she was simply free: free of her dreadful, pathetic life; free of her son, whom she loved but could not escape; free from the shackles of Grigoras's humouring, contemptuous assistance; just free.

Dru knew relatively little of his parents. His mother, he suspected, loved him only because she would have no other reason to exist. In his eyes, she could never have been a young woman with dreams. He thought sometimes that if he left, she might kill herself. He scolded himself for this idea. She did not even have enough will to take her own life.

Dru did not love his mother, nor did he like her. He pitied her and tried to show compassion to that shadow of a human being. Dru felt even less for his father. He was revolted that the lecherous Belok could have created a child with the empty, frail Aurelia. What did that make him, being the result of their union? He rarely used the name Ignition in order to stand as far apart from his lineage as he could.

He grew up decidedly. Dru decided to be strong, creative, and inquisitive. He could read people and situations. Family encounters had taught him diplomacy, tact, and to keep his thoughts to himself. Dru was an exceedingly guarded young man.

Yet he loved his uncle. Uncle had always been kind but demanding. Uncle refused to allow him to be anything less than his capabilities. He had been beaten, yes, twice, but he forgave Grigoras. He was only trying to be a father to Dru. Dru was always slightly afraid of his uncle, but he suspected that was how life was.

For his part, Vihesi cared dearly for the boy. Dru was sometimes weak, a side effect of a nearly comatose mother and an alternatingly abusive and neglectful father. But Vihesi did his utmost to create strength, allegiance, and even fear in the boy.

Vihesi had never married. He had never loved anyone more than his own dreams of success. He knew money could not buy love and still did not care. He was concerned with the power and comfort that luxury brought. He would rise above his cesspool family. And he meant to take the boy with him.

Vihesi would, however, ensure that the boy remained subservient. Sons always overthrow their fathers, he knew. This boy was not his son. Dru would be cared for, adored even, but the throne would always remain ever so slightly out of his reach.

“Yes, Dru, what is it?”

“I'm just out of class, Uncle. There was a girl there today …” Dru dropped his voice to a whisper, “from the other side!”

“Come over immediately,” was the abrupt reply. His uncle's porto snapped off. Dru was left staring at his talker. His heart was pounding. He adjusted the embroidered scarf around his neck, jumped into his car, and sped towards his uncle's estate.