The Inheritances Game (Jameson Hawthorne)

The Opera

Twelve hours after they signed the NDA, another black envelope showed up at the flat. This one featured only a single thread of shining platinum, encircling a black wax seal. The design imprinted on the wax was familiar. A triangle inside a circle inside a square. Jameson ran his thumb over the contours, his brain rotating the shapes, disassembling them, reassembling them. He broke the seal and opened the envelope to find an invitation—also black, with silver script. Affixed to the bottom of the card, there was a small but ornate key.

Jameson skimmed the instructions and plucked the gold key from the card, then turned to Catalina, an electric smile spreading over his face. "It appears we're headed to the opera."

"Zip me up?" The gown was black with gold embroidery, a delicate, complicated pattern that swirled down my torso and hips, all the way to the floor.

"My pleasure" He traced his hand from my neck to my back.

"Jameson." I whispered; I don't know why I waited so long but I needed him to talk to me.

"You want me to strip?" He brought his thumb to a spot just below my jawbone sending butterflies down my spine.

"I want you to admit that this matters to you," I said, leaning into his touch.

Jameson wound his free arm around her, pulling my body back against his. "Winning always matters." He knew that wasn't what I meant, I let him keep talking anyways. "An impossible challenge," he murmured directly into my skin. "A hidden world. A secret game. It's all very me."

"And that's it? This is just a diversion?" I said turning my head, and Jameson began slowly tracing my jawline. He let his hand drop to my hand spelling out. N-O. "No," I murmured. "This isn't just a challenge or a game of a diversion to you." She paused. "Is it lan?" Five more letters M-A-Y-B-E. "Maybe" I whispered softly.

"I know he's using us" Jameson told her, his voice catching in his throat. "Using me." he stopped for a moment. "Maybe, on some level, I want to prove lan made a mistake staying away all these years. Maybe a small part of me wants to impress him. Maybe I want to make him want me, so that I can be the one who walks away."

"You," she said, her voice as raw as he felt, "are amazing, I have no doubt he would regret everything. You're brilliant and devious and kind."

"I'm also very handsome," he quipped, but the words came out thick.

"You," I told him, "Are everything."

"Is that all?" he murmured, with a crooked little smile.

She matched his smile like a poker player matching a bet. "Isn't that enough?"

Jameson leaned forward, reaching behind her to pull the zipper on her dress slowly, tortuously upward. "I'm a Hawthorne, you should know nothing is ever enough."

They went to the opera. Twenty minutes in, per the instructions they'd received, Jameson and Catalina ducked out of their private box and made their way to the elevator. They were alone in the elevator. With his heart beating a little harder, a little faster, Jameson laid the gold key that had accompanied their invitation against the elevator's control panel. Every button lit up emerald, green.

Beside him, Catalina pressed in the code they'd been given. The elevator went pitch-black. With a whoosh, they descended, past the ground floor, farther than one would go for a parking garage or basement.

Down, down, down.

When the elevator doors opened again, Jameson was overcome with a sense of overwhelming vastness as he stepped out into some kind of cavern, the sound of his footsteps echoing. Catalina followed, and a torch burst to life to their left.

Not a natural cavern. Jameson realized. Man-made. A tunnel. And cutting through that tunnel was an underground river. Even with the torchlight, it looked black.

As Jameson stepped forward, muted light sparked to life at the water's edge. A lantern. It took Jameson a moment to register the person holding the lantern. A child. Jameson put the boy's age at eleven or twelve.

Silently, the child turned and stepped out onto the water-onto a boat. It looked a bit like a gondola, long and thin. The child attached the lantern to the top, picked up a pole, and turned to the two of them, waiting.

Jameson and Catalina exchanged a look before walking down the stone path to the boat. They stepped on board. The child said nothing as he began to row, the pole digging into the bottom of the canal.

Jameson went to take it from him. "I can—"

"No." The kid didn't even look at him, just tightened his grip on the pole.

"Are you okay?" Cal asked, concerned. "Is someone forcing you to do this? If you need help..."

"No," the kid said again with a tone that made Jameson wonder if he'd underestimated his age. "I'm fine. Better than fine."

The underground river bent. The boat took the turn, and Jameson realized that this part of the tunnel wasn't made of ordinary stone. The walls were black, but it seemed like light shined within them. Some kind of quartz? Silence descended until all Jameson could hear was the sound of the boat cutting through the water as the boy poled them onward.

"We're the only ones out here," Catalina said quietly, her voice echoing on the water. "Down here."

"There are many paths," the boy said, something almost leonine in the set of his features. "Many entrances, many exits. All roads lead to the Mercy if you're welcome there— and none do if you are not."

Three more bends of the river, and then the boat ran up on some kind of beach. Torches burst into flame, encircling the boat, illuminating a door. Standing in front of the door was Rohan. He wore a red tuxedo with a black shirt underneath and stood like a soldier at attention, but torchlight showed the expression on his face to be utterly relaxed. Self-satisfied. The way someone is when they've won.

"You shouldn't be working at your age, let alone this late at night," Catalina told the boy who'd brought them here. Her gaze darted toward Rohan. "If he made you think otherwise..."

"The Factotum didn't make me think anything," the boy said. His tone was fierce, his chin held high. "And someday, when he's the Proprietor, I'm going to be Factotum for him."