Chapter One

Chapter one

A light snow fell over the still streets by the abandoned biscuit factory. Two adolescent boys were walking across the large expanse that was being covered by an emerging layer of white glitter. One of the boys was taller than the other. He had dark hair that he seemed not to care about, but it matched his dark green eyes. The second of the boys was slightly shorter, with shorter hair styled casually. They were both wrapped in coats- the taller in black, the smaller in purple. The one in purple was smiling and talking quickly while the taller just stared ahead vacantly, willing this conversation to be over. The smaller boy stopped talking.

            “Matt!” he said. “Matt!”

He stopped walking, and the taller boy- Matt- kept walking, heading towards the large apartment block that loomed above.

            “Are you even listening?” When the smaller boy wasn’t answered, he bent down, grabbed what he could of the barely-there snow, packed it into a ball, stood up straight and threw it at Matt. Matt stopped, turned around.

            “What was that for, Ron?” he asked, tilting his head backwards a little.

            “You weren’t listening to me!” Ron whined. “I was telling you that Mrs Simpson said I’ll be doing my GCSEs this year instead of next year and you weren’t listening!”

            “Ron, you’re fifteen. I’m seventeen. Of course I’m not going to listen.” He turned back and started again for the apartment block, only to be disturbed by another poorly-filled snowball. He swivelled with fire in his eyes and yelled “WHAT?”

Ron shrank back, and then stood up straight, facing his brother eye for eye. His lower lip trembled and he took a deep breath; “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

            “Why should I?” Matt asked, his voice low.

            “Because it’s an accomplishment, and you know it’ll make Dad happy!”

Matt snorted.

            “Hey! Just because you can’t do anything academic doesn’t mean you should be so dismissive!”

            “I got into college, didn’t I?”

            “By the skin of your teeth!”

            “I still got in! That’s accomplishment enough!”

            “But I’m the youngest person in school doing his GCSEs!”

            “Ron, quit it! I don’t care, but Richard will!”

            “Call him Dad!”

            “Not until he acts like a dad!” Matt turned on his heel and ran to the apartment block, thundering up three flights of stairs and across the extensive balcony until he reached his family’s door. He yanked the door open, slamming it shut as he ran in. He pulled off his coat as he walked down the hallway to his room. He kicked the door open and threw his coat in. He leaned over a little and looked in the mirror- it showed his head and shoulders. A couple of maverick snowflakes clung to his hair and seemed defiant against melting. Matt brushed them away and pulled off his beige jumper. He took a few deep breaths as he held the coarse jumper in his hands. He looked at the tag and saw his name in Marissa’s handwriting: Matthew Percival Amsterdam. She had knitted the jumper for him when he was eight, and still it fit like a glove. Well, if it did then it was only because he had practically lived in it since the tragedy. The arms were worn and the colour was beginning to fade, but he hugged it to his body nonetheless.

            “I miss you.” He whispered, bringing the jumper to his lips and kissing it. He folded it carefully while walking to his bureau, opened a drawer and laid it in. He closed the drawer and leant against it, running a hand through his hair and frowning. He turned around and gazed at the room. Two matching single beds and two matching bureaus were divided by an invisible barrier. On one side of the room, the theme was purple- purple duvet cover, lilac sheets, fluffy lilac pillows. The only physical proof that two brothers shared this room was the purple paint that split the wall and ceiling into Ron’s half of the space, and the dark green wallpaper that declared the other side as Matt’s. On Ron’s side, the bed was neatly made, the pillows fluffed and the cuddly dog sitting in the middle. On Matt’s side, the cover was tossed aside with his pyjamas and drying towel still strewn over it from the morning’s shower.

Matt leant against the bureau as the door opened and a red-faced young man in a purple parka crashed in. Ron glared at Matt, his face bright red from the cold. From the howling wind outside, Matt could tell that the British weather was picking up speed for an almighty blizzard.

            “What the heck was that all about?” Ron demanded.

            “What was what all about?” Matt asked coolly.

            “Calling Dad by his name! You know he hates that!”

            “So? He hates most things.”

            “And do you remember why?”

            “Of course I remember! I was there!”

Ron ripped open his parka and hung it savagely on the door hook. Underneath the parka, he wore a blue sweater decorated with snowflakes over blue jeans. He turned to Matt and tried to look stoic.

            “Sometimes you have to forget,” he said in an even voice. “It wasn’t Dad’s fault. He meant well- you know how much he wanted a daughter, and you know why Mom-”

            “DON’T FREAKING TALK ABOUT IT!” Matt screamed. His breathing quickened and felt his face heat up.

            “Why shouldn’t I?” Ron challenged, narrowing his eyes. “I’m not the one who witnessed it- it’s only natural for me to want to know your side.”

            “Well, I am the witness! And it’s only natural for me to not want to talk about it!”

            “Dad witnessed it. He talks about it.”

            “Because he’s an arrogant dick!”

            “Good pun! But still- you’ve got to see it from his point of view.”

Matt sighed and kicked the bureau. He marched forward and pushed Ron aside, left the room and took long strides toward the living room. He looked in to see Richard wearing a sky-blue suit and reclining in his beige arm chair. Richard looked at the door and saw Matt. He tried to smile.

            “Hey, son.” Richard said. “Had a good day?”

            “Meh.” Matt shrugged and looked away. “Can I come in?”

            “Sure- just watching the news.” Richard turned back to the television and relaxed as Matt took a seat on the settee.

            “What’s the story?” Matt asked.

            “Terrorist bombing.”

            “Where?”

            “The Old Bailey.”

            “Why?”

Richard shrugged. Matt leant back and put his legs up on the settee as he pretended to watch the television- the news wasn’t particularly interesting except for the terrorist attack, and they said surprisingly little about it. Instead, Matt admired one of the newsreaders- brown hair, grey eyes and a blue-and-white pinstripe shirt. Matt wondered if that shirt would look good on him...

            “Dad!” Kevin and Ron burst into the living room. Kevin launched himself into Richard’s arms and Ron skidded to a stop on his knees in front of the television.

            “What have they said about the Old Bailey?” Ron asked breathlessly.

            “Nothing much- it happened an hour ago,” Richard told him. “They haven’t got enough to report yet.”

            “Ha!” Ron snorted. “Police covering it up- don’t want to show their weaknesses!”

            “No, Ronald,” Richard sighed, hugging Kevin to him. “It happened an hour ago. How did you know anything about this, anyway?”

            “Lincoln texted me! Seriously- what did they say?”

Richard didn’t say anything and kept hugging Kevin.

            “This just in,” said the newsreader Matt had been admiring. “The current death toll, estimated at five, has just received its first official figure: seven people dead, and set to rise.” The newsreader went pale as he repeated what he was being told, “One of the deceased has been identified in the last ten minutes. We will bring you... I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” The newsreader stood up, took off his microphone and walked offset.

The other newsreader, who Matt hadn’t noticed until she spoke, looked confused and worried.

            “Jeremy?” she asked warily before turning back to the camera. “We’re sorry for Jeremy. In other news, the coalition government has-” Richard had muted the television as Kevin began to whimper.

            “Poor Jeremy...” he said quietly.

            “You know him?” Matt asked, looking at Richard with interest. He swung his legs off the settee and sat upright.

            “We go back a few years,” Richard said nostalgically. “But that’s unimportant. I don’t want you kids near the Old Bailey.”

            “When were we going there?” Matt asked.

            “Don’t crack wise, mister!”

            “Dad,” Ron said, “how do you know him? Why did he walk off?”

            “I used to work with him. He was a sensitive guy then and he still is.” Richard kissed Kevin’s forehead. “Don’t worry, big guy,” he smiled looking into his youngest son’s eyes.”It’ll all be alright.” Richard turned back to the TV and hit the ‘mute’ button on the remote, unmuting the news.

            “...with a total debt of nearly £30 000 after university for non-medical degree. We now go to Shania Memphis outside-” Ron turned the television off and kicked his heels against the yellow carpet. He had taken a position sitting upright on the floor.

            “Tell us what you know, Dad!” Ron seemed impatient. Inside his head, Matt laughed. Ron, as a child, had wanted to know everything. Matt liked how his younger brother still maintained his quest for knowledge.

Richard sighed. “The Old Bailey was bombed and people are coming up dead. That’s it!”

Matt shrank back into his seat and crossed his arms over his stomach. He looked at the blank screen of the TV and saw his gangly reflection with too-long legs and a crescent moon face. He crossed his legs and tried to blank out what would surely be a window-shattering argument. Kevin jumped into Matt’s lap and cuddled close to him. Matt mechanically put his arms about his brother and hugged him. He stared into the air while Richard and Ron’s voices escalated. Matt could feel Kevin crying into his chest, and autonomously started rubbing his youngest brother’s back in a futile attempt to calm him down.

            “You’re making Kevin cry!” Ron shrieked.

            “So are you!” Richard growled. “You think it’s easy? Raising three kids alone after your wife-” Richard stopped in his tracks and began to breathe heavily. His face softened, but his eyes remained set like two emeralds in a marble statue. His face paled and his hand when to his chest, feeling for something. He patted his shirt a few times and hunched over with his hands on his knees as he struggled to calm down his breathing.

Ron clenched and unclenched his fists and maintained a look of irritation. He marched forward, pushed past Richard and was out of the living room in a matter of moments. Matt sighed and set Kevin down. Getting up from his seat, he told his youngest brother:

            “Look after Daddy.”

Kevin mumbled an “Okay” as Matt shot out the door after his brother.

            “Ron?” He called. “Ronny? Ron!”

He heard a door slam and instinctively turned and made his way to the bedroom he and Ron shared. The door was closed, and the fumbled ‘clank’ he heard on the other side told him that it was locked. He knocked on the door and called his brother a few times.

            “I know you’re in there!” he called. “Why do you do this?”

No reply.

            “Come on, Ronny!” he tried. “You’ve upset Richard!” Matt knocked on the door again, then he banged the wood with his fist. He felt something stir inside of him. Something hard and hot, so hot his eyes began to burn. His face began to flush and the feeling grew until the lock finally opened and Ron came out, yelling “All right, all right! I’m out now, happy?”

The feeling disappeared, and Matt’s face cooled. He looked at his younger brother with suspicion and challenged him: “Happy you’re out? Yeah, now maybe you can explain yourself?”

            “Explain what?” Ron tilted his head to the side and widened his eyes threateningly. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and stepped forward. “Why, Matthew, did you growl ‘Get the fuck out here before I do something you’ll regret’? You’re not particularly articulate, are you? Why would you do something I would regret? Would you drink Dad’s special Scotch and blame it on me?”

            “I don’t know.” Matt said quietly. “I don’t think I even said that.”

            “Yet you did!” Ron righted his head and glared at Matt. “Dad probably heard it, too! And I’m certain I heard Kevin scream.” He looked over the threshold and smiled triumphantly. “Well, looks like somebody else did hear you!” Matt followed Ron’s direction and saw Kevin peeking out from the turn in the corridor.

            “Hey, Kev-” Matt started, but Kevin screamed and ran away.

            “DADDY!” He cried as he ran.

Matt turned back to Ron. Ron was struggling to conceal laughter.

            “Why is it funny if I’m scary?” Matt asked.

            “No reason.” Ron said innocently, ceasing his laughter but still smiling.

The feeling started tingling in the pit of Matt’s stomach, but before it could grow, a hand landed on Matt’s shoulder and he turned his head to find himself staring into Richard’s green eyes.

            “Hello, Richard.” Matt said coolly. The feeling had calmed down, but Richard’s fiery green eyes stirred worry in Matt’s stomach.

            “Hello, Matthew.” He said, looking down at Matt. Richard turned his stare at Ron, who had taken a step back into the bedroom. “Ronald, take Kevin to the park across the road. He’s been cooped up here for three solid days with no stimulation.”

            “Sure, Dad.” Ron said. He left the bedroom and ran down the corridor. Matt watched as his younger brother went into the living room, pulled out Kevin and grabbed their coats and shoes before bustling out of the front door. Seconds later, someone knocked on the door. Richard answered and Ron- with Kevin by the hand- flew in with a hurried excuse about forgetting to dress Kevin. Within minutes, Ron had Kevin dressed and they were both in their shoes and coats. They left a second time, and Ron grabbed the keys on his way out. When they were gone, Richard turned to Matthew and advanced. Matthew kept stepping backwards until he hit something and fell backwards, landing on something soft. He looked and saw the green blankets, and he knew that he was in his and Ron’s bedroom. He sat up and looked at the door. Richard was blocking the threshold. Matthew looked around and saw no hope for escape- the windows wouldn’t offer him much help, and even if they could the family lived on a high enough floor that if he fell, he would probably be in more trouble, or less depending on how you looked at it.

            “Your behaviour is worrying me, Matthew.” Richard said earnestly. “These fits of blind rage have to stop.”

            “What do you mean ‘fits of blind rage’?” Matt asked, eyeing Richard suspiciously.

            “Son,” Richard began, “the way you treat Ronald and Kevin has got to stop. You get angry over the smallest things, and when you get angry, you are not the best person to have as a friend.”

            “What if I don’t want them as friends?” Matt challenged.

Richard considered this. “Hm. Then it’s just tough, I suppose- you don’t get to choose your family, but unfortunately for you- if these fits of rage continue- you are going to find yourself in one hell of an uncompromised position. I hear from your college that you’re getting along adequately with your classmates, but you’re very aggressive. You’ve got to get along...” Matt faded out. The feeling was stirring in him again. Only this time, it was harder, hotter and his blood began to boil. He managed to maintain a look of understanding as Richard prattled on about how Matt could improve his socialising skills. Join a club, go to the park or visit a museum. The feeling grew and grew, spreading through Matt like freezing ice.

            “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU TO TELL ME WHAT I’VE GOT TO DO?” Matt raged.

Richard was taken aback.

            “Who do you think you are, Richard?” Matt growled. “You may think you know me, but you don’t. You’re not me!”

            “But I am your father!” Richard replied. He stepped into the room and closed the door. Matt suddenly felt trapped and his heart began to beat quickly. “You may think I don’t know you, Matthew Percival Amsterdam, but you’re the first-born son in this family, like I was the first born in mine, and I know what happens to all the first-borns in the Amsterdam family! I watched it happen to my uncle, my cousin, my mother! You’re due the same fate!”

            “What the fuck are you talking about?” Matt spat. “What ‘fate’? Does that even exist?”

            “Quit your philosophy and get real!” Richard’s eyes flared with an almost animal-like rage. Matt pushed himself farther back onto the bed and tried to calm his beating heart and dry his palms of the cold sweat that had begun to accumulate as Richard advanced, standing six feet and four inches tall and looking down at his oldest son. Matt could only guess what could happen next as Richard began to growl.

Richard caught himself just in time. He pulled himself away from the heat of the anger before he blacked out. He only had to remember the last time it had happened, before he had learned to control it. Loki had told him it was to be expected- people in his, Morgan’s and Thomas’s positions had to be very careful to keep their cool. Odin, who had been so trusting when they had first met, was the one to coach Richard in controlling this strange gift. Or curse. This had been Richard’s debate since he was twenty, when he had married and uncovered this ability, and had always struggle to determine whether it was a gift or a curse. He especially had to be careful around Matthew, who was showing signs of the ability as well. The same signs Richard had shown at seventeen.

            “Don’t be so scared, Matthew,” Richard sighed. “You know it hasn’t been easy for me since the tragedy.” Richard felt a pang of guilt and looked at Matthew with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry, son. Let’s just forget that this whole thing ever happened, but promise me you’ll try to control your anger?”

Matthew’s eyes were wide with fear as Richard tried an apologetic smile. His dilated pupils told Richard that his son was suspicious, but Matthew gave a brief nod from his frozen-in-fear position on the bed. Richard said “I’m glad we agree” and left the bedroom, heading for the living room. Once there, he closed the door and leant a wooden chair up against the curved door handle. Taking a seat in the armchair, Richard reached into his pants pocket and looked up a number. He pressed ‘dial’ after finding it and waited for him to answer.

            “Hello! You have reached Thomas Llewellyn!” said that voicemail. “I’m sorry I can’t talk to you a-the moment, but if you leave a message I’ll call you back! And please, no one-liner crap like ‘Call me back’- this will not get you my respect!”

Richard smiled at the last part as the tone beeped.

            “Hey, Thom,” he started. “It’s Richard. I need to talk to you about anger management. Not for me, but for Matthew. I’m calling Loki and Odin soon. Get back as soon as you can- this could be dangerous.”

Richard hung up and crossed his legs on the armchair. He leant forward and held his phone in both hands as he searched for Loki’s number. He dialled and Loki picked up on the second ring.

            “Hello, Agent 9,” Loki said.

            “Hello, Loki,” Richard said. “I have a problem. Matthew’s anger is getting out of control. I’ll file a report on his behaviour as the patterns progress.” He leaned forward and turned his head back so that he could see the living room door. “I’m not completely sure, but he is a first-born. You know what I was like when I was his age.”

There was a pause as Loki considered this. “Indeed,” he finally replied. “One moment- I must add my brother to this conversation.”

Richard manoeuvred himself into a position so that he was on his knees and facing the door, but just in case anybody came in, he would find it easy to slip into a more comfortable position facing away.

            “Ciao, Riccardo!” Odin chirped. “How have you been?”

            “Not too well, Odin.” He hated to think of how Odin must be feeling right now- the recent bombing was sure to have a severe effect on him. “As I was just telling Loki, Matthew’s been acting like I was at his age.”

Odin gasped. “No!”

            “Yes, brother.” Loki deadpanned. “Richard is going to file a report on Matthew’s behaviour, and I would much appreciate if the two of you could arrange a time and place where you can meet and observe Matthew in action. It would be a terrible shame if we didn’t know what we were dealing with.”

            “Sure, Loki.” Richard sighed.

            “Sí, fratello.” Richard could hear the smile in Odin’s voice. “But, before we do, I just wanted you to know that there are, oh how can I put this? Riccardo, perhaps it’s best you’re to hear this, too, because the stars are less.”

            “The stars are less?” Loki repeated.

            “Sí, sí!”

            “How are there less stars?” Richard felt confused. “I’m no astronomer, but you can’t see stars for squat in the city.”

            “I’m no astronomer, either,” Odin pointed out, “but even I know when the stars are disappearing. Maybe the snakes are eating them!”

            “The stars are not disappearing!” Loki stressed.”End of conversation. I will leave now, while you two make arrangements. If Matthew is home now, I would strongly advise you begin the work immediately. Good day to you, gentlemen!” Loki’s end of the line clicked, leaving Richard and Odin on the line.

            “Come over now,” Richard told him.

Odin said he would be there in ten minutes. He was there in five.

Richard answered the door and smiled with relief. The two men hugged liked a father and son reunited after a long war. Odin Mafuro was tall and well-toned man for a man in his late fifties. His hair was black and greying and, unlike his younger brother, Odin had retained that south Italian accent even after years of living in England.

            “Hey stranger!” Richard said. “Come in!” Odin stepped through the door and smiled.

            “Come stai, Riccardo?” he asked.

            “Molto male,” Richard said. “Mattia é testardo!”

Odin smiled ironically. “Your Italian is rusty,” he remarked. “Go to Italy for the summer- you will enjoy. Come, take me to the patient!”

Richard led him to Matthew’s room. He saw that Matthew had closed the door. He tried the door and found that it was locked. He sighed and looked at Odin, who knocked on the door.

            “Matthew?” Richard called. “Please unlock the door.”

            “Why?” his son cried. “So you can try to kill me again?”

Odin gasped and turned his head to Richard. Richard looked back and shook his head.

            Not the time, he thought.

            Tell me later, Odin thought back.

            “Matthew,” Richard said with authority, “unlock this door. My boss is here and he wants to see you.”

No reply.

Reluctantly, Richard nodded to Odin. Odin nodded back and stepped away from the door three paces. Fixing his gaze on the door, Odin channelled the energy around him in a straight line directed at the door. Richard could feel the energy building up in the atmosphere. It was organised, heavy and purposeful.

In the bedroom, Matt felt a strange sense of vulnerability as he watched the padlock and the chair, books and bicycle he had piled in front of the door slowly, one by one, disappear. It was down to the dead bolt. It was jiggling dangerously, as though it were a firecracker getting ready to explode. Instead, it gently slid out of place and the door eased open to reveal his father, standing behind the threshold with...

            “Professor Mafuro?”