Starting here, more than one POV will be added to story, because I feel like things would go smoother if Ira definitely had a say in this story as well.
Thank you VirtualViola03 for another amazing review ;) This story is dedicated to all my readers out there. I'm truly grateful.
Review and Good luck!
-Olo Eopia03
- Chapter 12 ~ The Stars Above -
Death is known to be unpredictable. A murder though - completely planned, no matter how unexpected it may be.
She was staring at the stars. Sitting on the ledge of the roof as she leaned calmly against the wall behind her. Her feet were dangling over the edge of the building, and her eyes gazed at the forest of trees beyond.
Ira felt a gust of wind caress her hair, and absentmindedly, her hand reached up to feel the jaded necklace around her neck. She didn't know its value . . . She really didn't know anything . . .
"Can't sleep either?" A sigh came from behind her. Ira turned to see the Shem leaning against the doorway that had led to the rooftop. For a moment, she noticed that he looked as though he was going to leave - the uncomfortable look in his eyes and the sigh that had come from his mouth earlier all were clues that he wanted be alone - but for some reason he kept his composure, keeping a solid stance until he started to walk toward her.
How long had he been watching her? Ira realized she was only wearing a pair of sweats and a ratty T-Shirt, and she had her arms hugging a large pillow with her knees brought up to her chest in a relaxed position. She hardly looked presentable, and lately she'd always felt so self-conscious when Shem's gray eyes landed on her . . .
His eyes were what had thrown her off so much. Every time they had looked at her Ira felt as though she was being analyzed in every possible way, and then re-analyzed at every possible angle. The piercing gaze had made her feel so out of place . . . But it was such a familiar gaze . . .
Ira shook her head. She couldn't sleep. The party was tomorrow, and that seemed to be the only thing on her mind. Shem sat next to her. He was wearing a black shirt and jeans, but Ira didn't really get a good look of him until now since he always wore a thick, long coat and a woolly scarf.
He had a lean body, the well-toned muscles on his arms showing that he'd been training for a long time. His face had sharp features, the chiseled jaw and high cheekbones giving him a rather mature appearance - Ira couldn't really imagine what he could've looked like at a really young age.
Usually, his eyes would not exhibit a single expression, but today the facade that had always been there seemed to give way for the first time. Shem Baker looked weary, the usual strength in the gleam of his eyes not showing as prominently as before.
"Are you scared?" Ira asked, not thinking of anything else to say. Even then, she felt as though that was a really worthless question. From what she had already seen, the son of Athena was anything but scared.
Shem shrugged, staring at the glittering stars above. The sky was so unlike that of New York, where not a single jewel in the night sky could be seen.
"I've played this game too many times. Are you scared?"
"Terrified."
Ira hugged the pillow closer to her chest. The time in the infirmary at Camp Half-Blood had fully healed her, but the wound in the first place had told her that she was always prone to messing up. It was a hellhound that had attacked her, right? Hellhound . . . ?
"If you hadn't arrived earlier, Lynx and I wouldn't have made it out in one piece," Shem said. It was Ira's turn to shrug. She didn't want the both of them dead. "Do you fully remember how you met him?"
Ira's brow furrowed, but the memory of Lynx had only resurfaced just a few hours prior to her arrival at the library.
"I found him on the street trying to run away from one of the gorgons, and I decided to help him fend the monster off."
"And in turn he gave you that cord," Shem nodded to the black string where the jaded necklace hung from. Ira nodded.
"He deserves more than this," Ira said. "He treats the fact that his father went insane due to his existence as something normal that went on in his life. He doesn't really show how much he's been through, but he's told me so many things that a 16-year old shouldn't have gone through."
A dark look passed through Shem's eyes, and Ira knew what he was thinking of.
All three of us have gone through what a 16-year old shouldn't have gone through.
"He wasn't the only one," Shem said, not reading Ira's thoughts.
"You wanna tell me?" Ira asked slowly. If she pushed too hard he'd definitely never tell her in a million years. But she had to try. "I'm coming with you on this quest. You can't hide anymore."
Ira tore her gaze away from the stars to look into Shem's eyes. For once, his gray eyes were not scrutinizing her face. She'd noticed all the odd behaviors about him. The constant movement of his long fingers against anything - ruffling his scarf, drumming against the seat, interlacing with each other as he pondered over the latest enigma. His eyes moved around constantly, as though unfocused due to the overwhelming stream of thoughts that went through his mind.
"I can help," Ira insisted. She didn't care how many people Shem had kept the story of his childhood away from. This was more important than just knowing.
She saw Shem swallow slowly, but the gleam in his eyes vanished. Ira sighed.
There was no way that Shem was going to tell her now. She tried persisting, but he just wouldn't tell her. Ira leaned against the wall behind her, resuming her gaze at the stars.
"I had a brother once."
Ira froze. She didn't turn to look at Shem, for fear that he might stop talking about his past. This was it.
He had a brother? For a demigod to have a sibling . . . That was rare.
"There was a time when I actually had a family," Shem continued softly. "Nicholas Baker, a father with an endless craving for knowledge. Miro Baker, an older brother to look up to. And . . . My brother's friend."
And so he proceeded to tell Ira his childhood story under the stars. Ira listened as image after image flashed before her eyes. Soon, it wasn't hard to imagine a pure, innocent, and carefree Shem Baker at the age of six.
It was easy to adore the perfection of Miro Baker. If he wanted to be, Miro could truly be the head of the British government. He was so perfect that he really was the British government. A brother who aimed for the highest of goals, one who outshined everyone in his generation and those ahead of him.
It was unsettling to picture the intelligent and curious Nicholas Baker. His hard gaze set on his youngest son, but a look filled with pride and joy for his eldest. His constant need for confinement to his own study room, because who knew what went on in there. Experiments. Research. Discovery. They were wonders Shem would never know about.
But lastly, there was the friend. The trustworthy. The kind, yet prominent figure that had grown with Miro as the two best friends thrived over the years. He was the shadow, but he was just as gifted, and held the same traits that Miro did. He could even settle as an older brother. A third son.
But he was never suspected to be a murderer.
After a few years, he himself had killed two people in one night.
In cold blood.
Ira's heart clenched as Shem finished his story of that day when his family had been stripped away from him. That was the end of the story.
But for Shem, the story never ended. It went on.
It went on for ten more years. Ten years of pain, suffering, and loneliness. Ten years that all led up to this moment.
And this story could very well end in just a few days.
End with another death.
There were times when Shem was struggling to continue - as though he was going to stop talking - but a cold look would reflect in his eyes, and he would resume his story. To Ira, it was as though he had told no one because of the way he spoke, his voice going slow and sounding uncertain. It was as if the words that were coming out of his mouth were the first set of words that had been said after those ten years.
But perhaps he did tell one. An image of a girl - long brown hair, with eyes as dark as the night - an image of Petra Ashling flashed in Ira's mind. Did Petra know?
"I-I'm sorry," Ira murmured as the story reached its temporary ending. By that time, Shem's gaze was focused on something else - anything but her. The weariness and vulnerability that had been there was gone. A new facade had built itself in a few minutes, harder and more impenetrable than ever before.
He must be hurting inside, Ira thought.
"It must have been hard for you," Ira said gently, thinking of all those years of trying to cope with death at such a young age. He was even alone. And he had to cope with being a demigod shortly after.
"When I came to," Shem said, "I had arrived at Camp Half-Blood. I don't know how or why, but I just did. I apologize for interrogating you so accusingly a few days earlier."
Ira mentally slapped herself when the two of them had decided to not say anything after that. Ira felt bad for being annoyed a few days ago when Shem had told her he didn't know how he'd arrived at Camp Half-Blood. Who could blame him? She just wanted to drop the whole subject in general. He didn't deserve to be pushed by her like this.
For the first time, Ira stayed quiet.
"That's why it has to end," Shem said quietly, his voice nearly inaudible as a sudden breeze came overhead.
Austin Baynes, Ira sounded the name in her head. That's why Shem is here.
"So you're going to find him," Ira said slowly, still not trusting her voice. "And you're going to talk to him. And you're going to accuse him of murder and he's just going to confess."
Shem's gaze snapped up to her, bewilderment filling his eyes. Why was he looking at her like that?
"Just accuse him?" Shem managed to get out. Ira didn't know why he looked so surprised.
"Well, of course, right?" Ira said. "I mean, he can go to jail too but-"
"I'm going to find him - and I'm going to kill him." Shem said. Ira felt the color drain from her face.
W-what?
"Y-You're going to murder him?" Ira said, not believing what she was hearing. "Shem. No-"
"Do I not have the right?" Shem snapped at Ira. Ira was taken aback by the sudden harshness of his voice, seeping with hatred. "After what he did, do you think that all he deserves is a mere confession to atone for his despicable actions?"
"I-"
"Every part of him needs to die," Shem seethed. "If he had a family, I would be scouring across the ends of the earth to kill them myself, be it a father, brother, or younger sister. Anything to make him suffer."
Without thinking, Ira reached out to place a hand on his arm. She would've gone further to hold his hand, but Shem had gone stiff from the sudden touch.
Ira wanted to tell him that Austin didn't deserve to be killed, that it was wrong to commit such a crime.
But she couldn't.
To compare to how many lives that had been lost . . . How could she say that Shem was wrong?
So instead of words, she had resulted to reaching out to him.
She didn't know what to do. Was it right to see a friend - a friend with the desire to kill - fulfill his goal?
"I don't know what to say," Ira finally managed. "But you don't have to do this. Let him be the only monster around here."
Shem pulled away from her, his eyes staring up at the stars. He eyes were fixed on her, but Ira could see the flicker of defiance in his eyes.
"I lost a brother."
Ira felt her heart drop at that.
Who am I to tell him that Austin Baynes did not deserve the same fate of death? Ira thought helplessly.
"If you're coming along," Ira heard Shem's voice clearly, his tone piercing the night sky. "Stay out of this."
Her heart gave another unpleasant throb. Stay out?
Ira sighed, but nodded slightly - enough for Shem to catch the action from the corner of his eye.
Stay out of this.
Ira thought hard.
No.
She won't stay out. She will help.
He didn't know it, but he needed her.
[xxx]
Shem didn't know what to think. Here they were - the two of them saying nothing after he practically poured out his whole story. Never in his life had he decided to leave an open door out for someone other than Petra Ashling. Never in his life had he felt so vulnerable and exposed. But Ira was listening to him until he had decided to shut her out.
It was hard enough to even talk to her.
It was more than enough.
Shem looked at the twinkling lights above. Somewhere, Allen Stradwood and Elli Fugino - and maybe possibly the heir - were out there looking up at the same stars. Somewhere in Camp Half-Blood, Petra was sitting under the same starlight. The gleaming jewels overhead were so beautiful, their shine dazzling the night sky and decorating the vast darkness like diamonds in the water.
"They're so far away, Shem murmured. He felt shift slightly next to him. "The stars."
He caught Ira's weak - but mournful - smile.
"It's sad," Ira's voice was quiet. "To know that the stars are always there, but you'll never reach them."
Those were the last words they had said to each other that night. The two of them sat in comfortable silence, listening to the wind and watching the stars.
Shem didn't know how much time had passed, but when he had finally gotten the courage to look at Ira, he'd realized she had fallen asleep, her head resting on the pillow close to her chest, the dirty blond curls framing her peaceful face.
Shem stood up and gently gathered Ira in his arms - in a bridal-like fashion, taking care not to jostle her out of her sleep.
As he silently carried her down the hallway to her bedroom, he thought of the last words she had said. Ira was breathing lightly, her head resting against his chest as he continued to walk.
The lack of hope that one will never touch the stars was prominent in her words. But it was such a pessimistic attitude that she reminded him of himself. He really hoped that was not a reflection of her outlook on life.
To know that the stars are always there, but you'll never reach them.
If you've read my first fanfic, A Time For An Heir, this takes place at exactly the same moment when Kalley and Allen are looking at the stars as well as they tell greek myths to each other. I don't know why, but I think stars are kinda my thing ;)
Thank for reading!
-Olo Eopia03
