( Volume: 3 Arc: "king for a day" 10 Issue: 5/7 )

Chapter 115: bishop


"The fourth Keller ever to come to me," Kingmaker said, smiling at the younger brother of his indebted client. The one he'd already used as a bargaining chip in said transaction.

How very interesting.

"I'm surprised, James," Kingmaker said. "How could you not have what your heart desires? You're wealthy…you have family…"

"You know very well that I don't have family," James said, wrinkling his slightly freckled nose. "I read Julian's letter. His contract, with you. In bold letters…his wish. He's no family
of mine. He's dead to me."

"Ah," Kingmaker said. He could barely stop himself from smiling—this was too good to be true. Now he had a household divided—civil war amongst a very rich family that could
mean nothing but profit for himself.

"If I may be so bold, I'm assuming you want to make a wish yourself," Kingmaker said, his tone reasonable. "Something to level the playing field, perhaps?"

James nodded. "I wish my parents were alive. I wish Julian off the face of this planet, along with his disgusting mutie kids."

Kingmaker raised his eyebrow. Interesting. The boy didn't know, then.

"What about the girl? Laura?"

James paused. "Nah, she can live," he said. He hesitated. "I wish she'd like me instead," he said, less certainly.

Kingmaker allowed himself to smile now. "Three wishes? Is that all? Sir, we have a deal…"

…

"Where the hell were you, snot-rag?" Julian asked, seeing his brother stomp up the stairs. "I called your cell. You need to start packing…we have to head home."

"This is my home," James said bitterly. "I'm staying."

"It'll be kinda awkward to have you camping out here when buyers are touring it," Julian said.

His brother froze.

"I'm selling it," Julian continued. "This place is nothing but bad vibes. Just coming back here gives me the creeps…puts me in a bad mood. Can't you feel it?"

James gripped the banister. "No," he said, gritting his teeth. "This is my home."

"No it's not," Julian insisted, folding his arms. "The real last home we had was that little shack in LA. It wasn't much to look at, but it was real. That was the last time any of us
were happy, remember?"

"No," James said again, although he did remember.

"You'll like it better in NY," Julian added. "I can tell. It's your type of town. There's lots of kids at the school…I'm sure they'll let you go there…and the house is nice, it's real. We
have a room for you."

"This is my home," James repeated.

"I'm giving you half of the money," Julian said, ignoring this comment. "But I want you to actually go to school and find something you like doing. What mom did…it's not right. I was
so much happier once I got away from them."

"Whatever." James continued to ascend the stairs.

"We know that you tried to call him," Julian said.

James paused. "Call who?"

"Kingmaker."

Silence.

"I don't know who the fuck you're talking about. Mom was right…you're screwed up, Julian." He turned his back on his brother who watched him keenly, then followed him up the
stairs to his room. James slammed the door in his face, but a few moments later Julian knocked anyway.

"Go away!" James snapped.

"We need to talk!" Julian said, his voice muffled through the wood.

James opened the door a fraction of an inch. "I have absolutely nothing to say to you. You're the reason everything fell apart."

Silence. Julian watched his brother's grey eye uncertainly. Did he know? He had to know, if he'd read the letter. It was there, in bold letters, his wish. It could easily be misread, out-of-context.

"You're the reason Rachel is dead!" James added, furiously. "Because you insisted on playing with your stupid powers! You should be locked up!"

"That never even happened," Julian said, more confident (now that James had clarified what he was actually upset about). "You do know that mom was psychic, right?"

The eye widened. "…what?" James asked in a small voice.

Julian suddenly realized just why James was being so moody, so cold towards him, and realized he'd been a terrible brother. Aside from the obvious, this whole new mess with Kingmaker.

"Uh…can I come in?" he asked.

James paused, then opened the door further. "Fine," he said resentfully.

…

For almost an hour, Julian tried to explain what had transpired in their family, starting with the origin of Elizabeth Keller—rather, Madelyne Pryor—up to the current moment. This included
the memories of his older sister—which he avoided as much as possible normally—and the wish.

It was hard. Julian didn't like to talk about his teenaged years, years that James had spent clueless, with a biased, evil mother to tell him otherwise. Who had begun to turn her manipulative
attentions to James when he had left.

After he'd finished, they sat in silence for a while, James playing with his shoelace with a sullen look. He had not looked surprised when Julian had reached the part about the wish, confirming
that he had read the letter.

"I hate you," he mumbled finally. "You and your friends used to throw things at me."

Julian flushed. "Uh. I might not have been a very nice person, back when…all this was going on," he said, realizing it wasn't a very good explanation. "…I'm sorry?" he added lamely.

Pause. "Fine," James grumbled. "I still don't want to leave here."

"It'll be better, I promise," Julian said. He paused, too. "Jim…did you really not call that guy?"

"NO!" James said, angry again. Defensive. Because he had done it. And now, there was probably a little bit of guilt over this action. Because he hadn't understood the context of his brother's wish.

Julian watched him carefully. "Okay," he said. "But that guy…he's bad news. You don't want to mess with him…trust me. It's like what they say, be careful what you wish for. It might come true."

The two brothers stared at each other for a moment, overwhelmed, then Julian got to his feet and left the room.

…

Laura looked out the window.

Julian was trying to convince Nate (in his kindest voice) that he'd seen enough Barney for the day. The boy was quite frantic that they watch a particular episode, until Julian suggested that
they play with his Lego instead (the castle had, of course, accompanied them on the impromptu journey, and even in the enormous villa, Julian had, of course, managed to trip on it a total
of three times, a fact that he found hard to understand).

Nate liked this idea, and soon the three (Rachel joined in immediately) were playing on the floor of the jet.

They were bound for home, finally. She was in a strange mood—she wanted to be on the floor, too, playing with the toddlers, but for some reason, she was too agitated. That reason was
probably due to the fact that the hackles on the back of her neck were sticking up—because James was sitting behind her.

The boy made her feel uneasy, on all accounts. She had sensed he was going to cause them trouble. She wasn't sure if he was bad throughout, or if it was just teenaged ignorance, but she
had felt that something was going on a bit deeper than at first glance. That he would do something, or perhaps he'd already done it.

Now there was proof. The Kingmaker's crumpled letter, with Julian's wish, and instructions, bore a letterhead—with a phone number. They had found the number on the list of numbers dialed
from the boy's phone.

Julian had told her that James denied the accusation, when questioned. There was no doubt about his calling; however, they had no way of knowing what he had wished for. Julian had told
her about a conversation he'd had with his brother, in which he'd explained the situation; and although James was slightly less surly, he still refused to admit the call.

His constant glances at her also creeped her out. It would be awkward to live in a small house with someone who was lusting over her, she speculated. She knew that it couldn't be
avoided—Julian had no other options, at the moment.

It was his fault, of course. Despite this fact, Laura found it hard to be one hundred percent angry with him—he hadn't at all meant for this situation to happen. His wish had been to be
reinstated with his family, to secure a future for the Shrimps; unfortunately, Kingmaker seemed to be a very literal man, and had enacted his wish to the letter. Although she was angry
that he hadn't listened, it was hard for her to ignore the fact that it had been well-meant.

There was also the fact that they had decided what they would do regarding the Kingmaker; and a good possibility remained that they would still be able to find his parents—alive—and
therefore get James off their hands; she would just have to be patient and as amiable as possible.

…

"Pull it while you unlock it," Laura reminded Julian as he struggled mentally with the front door of their small house (they very rarely locked it, as there was little chance of theft at the school).

James stared at the house dully, his hands curling into fists. This was a dump. He couldn't believe that Julian would let himself exist in such a small structure; and with such cheap furniture, he
mused as the door opened to reveal the kitchen table and sofa.

"I bet all the food went off," Laura said, curling her nose as she entered.

"EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!" she began gagging almost instantly, bending over double as the pungent odor hit her nose.

James stared at her uncertainly (unable to smell anything amiss, other than what he considered the odor of poverty) but Julian sighed and headed for the fridge—as if he was used to this
behavior—and opened it. Moments later he found a suspiciously open carton of milk; he opened it hesitantly and took a sniff.

"Gross," he said, turning to the sink and pouring it down the drain, watching the clumps as they gushed out. "I put it down to bad housekeeping. Sure you don't want a maid?"

"I think there's enough people in this house, thanks," Laura said, pinching her nose. "One more person and we'll need to expand."

"I could buy you a maid outfit, then," Julian teased.

James made a sound of disgust. "Can you not?"

"This must be what it's like to have teenagers," Laura mumbled, sitting down at a kitchen chair. "I want to strangle him already."

"Somebody show me where I'm staying!" the boy demanded.

"What, so you can slam the door in my face again?" Julian asked. This was the treatment he'd received several times back in California (James had still been angry about the decision to move him).

"I don't think he should have a door," Laura said. "Make him earn it or something. Makes it so much simpler, and teach him some manners at the same time."

"Good thinking," Julian said, grinning.

James looked angry.

"Shut up! You're both retards!" he snapped. "Making me come to this little…hole in the ground! It's like a box, and it stinks in here!"

"You just lost five points towards your door," Laura said dryly. "Write it down, Keller…I'll go take the hinges off."

James got up, stomped to the front door, tore it open then slammed it shut behind him so hard a small painting of a tree on the wall tilted. They watched him as he raged off across
the lawn towards the woods.

"Fuck, I liked having a front door," Laura said. "Now that's going to have to go, too. That sucks."

"Damn," Julian said, looking at the picture. "I only got it to tilt like an inch, remember? That's like…what…three inches there?"

"Let's measure it," Laura said, reaching into her pencil bag on the table and withdrawing the appropriate tools. "We can have a contest."

"I also broke three windows," Julian reminded her. "That's got to count for something."

"This is about picture-tilting, Keller. Windows aren't included!" she said as she held the ruler to the wall and made a pencil mark.

…

"Ms. Frost…this is my brother," Julian said, gesturing to James (who was standing with his arms folded and a very negative expression, although he had paused for a moment when
seeing Emma for the first time; this had cost the former money, as he'd bet Laura that nothing would make his brother stop scowling, even for a moment).

The said Laura was grinning at him, holding out her hand behind her back in a gesture that indicated he was to pay up.

"A pleasure to meet you, James," Emma said, leaning over the table slightly and extending her gloved hand. "I'm sure—"

"Don't read my mind!" James interrupted, angry. "My mom told me about you! You play horrible mind games—I don't want you anywhere near my—"

"I kind of informed Ms. Frost that we were bringing you back with us," Julian said, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"…" James glared at the headmistress. "I don't want anything to do with this school. I hate muties. You people should burn in the ovens, along with—"

Emma raised her eyebrows. "My. You certainly sing a different tune than your sibling. Julian is quite involved with the mutant community."

"That's only because he is one," James snapped. "You all think he'd give two shits about you if he was normal?"

"I wouldn't give two shits about this place if I was normal," Laura said. "I barely do, as is. My mother dragged me in here kicking and screaming."

"She kicked me, first," Julian added.

"Your ass makes an easy target, Keller, mostly because it's so—"

"ARRRGH!" James shoved Julian out of his way, ran to the door, and slammed it with a bang that echoed through the hallway.

Julian grimaced. "Er—"

"It's alright," Emma said, playing with a golden fountain-pen. "He is sixteen, and his parents have just passed away. His life has undergone an enormous change. He is bound to be
emotional right now. It's better to let him communicate." Emma paused. "On that note, I might add…if there's anything you might wish to speak with me about, Mr. Keller…I am a
qualified councilor."

"Actually, there is," he said, glancing at Laura. They'd agreed, that evening, that bringing this problem to Emma—one of the world's strongest psychics—was probably the best
strategy they could employ.

This little problem of…

"You ever hear of a guy named the Kingmaker?" Julian asked.

…

"Wallace," Emma said thoughtfully as she leaned back in her chair. She'd gone through various stages of emotion in the past few minutes—anger, cold rage, then calm, and now
cool and calculating. Considering the situation.

Her students sat at the desk, in front of her. Julian looked tired. Too tired—Emma noted bags under his eyes.

This was a very complicated situation.

"Who's Wallace?" Laura asked, her nose wrinkling. Nerd, she was thinking loudly—projecting. Laura's thoughts never entered Emma's psionic range, without her majorly
invading the girl's mind. So far, she hadn't tried.

"Wallace is our dear Kingmaker," Emma said. "I do so remember him. Mainly because he made a pathetic attempt to infiltrate the Hellfire Club when I was the White Queen." She
paused. "It was quite…memorable."

"HAHHAHA!" Laura threw back her head, laughing. "I can totally see that! He's such a loser!"

Julian glanced at her, annoyed.

"I am quite certain it is still the Hellfire Club he's after," Emma said, leaning forward. "Julian…you are aware of your mother's involvement, correct?"

A pause.

"…what?" Julian asked, having been blissfully unaware.

Emma frowned. "No…I'd better not."

Laura raised her eyebrows. "Emma…I think we should know everything that's going on here. He's been left with this whole mess…it's kind of hard to deal with problems
you didn't know existed."

"Kinda," Julian agreed.

Emma paused.

"Madelyne Pryor was the Hellfire Club's Red Queen," she said.

Silence.

"Aren't those kind of things inherited?" Laura asked, dimples forming.

Emma nodded briefly.

"HAHAHAHA! HAHAHA!" The girl almost tipped over her chair.

"HAHAHAHAHA…"

"I don't want to know," Julian said, but Laura coughed for air and finally managed to speak: "Please tell me there's a costume!!"

"Oh my god…shut up, Laura," Julian said, rubbing his forehead.

Emma allowed herself a small smile. "I hadn't thought of that, Mr. Keller. Indeed, you should be hearing from an associate any day now, if you haven't already.
Many would kill for such a position."

"I might have," Julian pointed out.

Emma pursed her lips. "Perhaps. If I know Wallace though…I'm almost certain that's not the case. He loves…nay, he lives to play sides against each other. No doubt each of
your parents is wishing against you at this moment. It would be typical of him to let your family finish itself, then move in on your inheritance, claiming your unpaid debt as
his legal right to its entirety."

Julian grimaced. "Think he'd lay off for, like, a billion or two?"

"Possible, but doubtful," Emma said. "Wallace lives for power. Such a position would give him that power."

Julian hesitated. He'd been about to say he didn't care for the title.

"Think carefully, Julian," Emma said, serious now. "You have the qualities of a hero. Being a Hellfire Club member does not mean you must walk down the wrong path…but take
it with a grain of salt. Do not forget who you are."

"You totally have to get a tiara," Laura added.

Julian rolled his eyes.

"You have three days to complete his request, correct?" Emma asked.

"One, now," Julian said.

"I see." Emma smiled. "That is plenty of time. Here is what we will do. You will complete his request—hear me out—so that we may find out his base of operations. I will come
with you to turn in your 'payment' to him." Emma's smile grew. "I believe Wallace will be excited to see such a dear, old friend of his."

…

James sat on the edge of the planter box in the garden, his knees pulled up to his chest as he glared angrily at the stupid bush full of flowers in front of him. He wanted it all to die,
this awful school full of filth. His skin was crawling, like it was full of thousands of little fireants.

He wanted to go home.

He'd been angry, like now, in the office upstairs (that was much shabbier than his father's), he'd said some things he didn't entirely mean, and then something had happened. He'd
felt a completely foreign emotion. Affection. Which blatantly did not fit with his mood. He'd been startled, and left immediately, blowing off steam by slamming a door in their faces.

It was disturbing.

He jumped off the planter box and ran towards the small house where he now resided, trying to think of something else.