King of Masters by Brynn Ford

 

PROLOGUE

Murphy

EIGHT YEARS OLD

THE FLOOR IS hard and gray. It reminds me of the walking stones that line a path from the fountain to the back door of our home. I really want to go home. It took forever on the plane to get here, and I’m tired, hungry, annoyed. But Dad says I’m getting older and he wants to show me the factory.

Mam finishes zipping my younger brother’s jacket and turns toward me. The moment her hands fall away, Declan takes off running across the hard floor.

“Declan, careful!” I call after him as I lunge, ready to run and catch him, though Mam grabs hold of my elbow to stop me.

“He’ll fall, Mam. He’ll hit his head on the floor.”

She glances off after him for only a second before returning her attention to me. “He’ll be fine, my love. You mustn’t worry about him anymore. You have greater responsibilities than worrying about your brothers.”

My forehead feels crinkly as I look at her, confused, trying to understand. “I’m the big brother, Mam. I always look after them.”

She shakes her head. “No more, Murphy.” She grabs my hands and tugs me forward, and I squeeze her palms, holding on tight. She speaks quietly, like she’s telling me a secret. “You’re special, my love. You’re the oldest and someday, you will be the Head of House for our family. Do you know what that means?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“It means you’re going to be a great leader, the leader of our family. It means you have to walk away from childish things and learn what it means to be an O’Shea man.”

“But…I’m just a boy.”

“Not just any boy. My special boy.” She lifts her head and looks over my shoulder, smiling. I turn my head to see she’s looking at my dad, who is talking to some men I don’t know. When Mam and I look back at each other, she runs her hands down my arms and I feel warm, loved. “You’re going to be like your dad one day. You’re going to follow his footsteps and take over the family business.”

“I don’t know how to run a business!”

“Shh, my love. Not too soon. When you’re older. But today, your dad wants to show you what we do.”

“What do we do?”

Declan runs into my side, hugging his arms around my leg. He’s the youngest—only three and a half—but he’s my favorite. My other brother Cormac is five, and I love him, too, but Declan is my best little buddy.

“We work with people,” Mam says and pushes to stand tall as Dad and Cormac come over with the two men I don’t know.

“Is he ready?” Dad asks Mam.

“Are you sure he’s not too young for this?” she asks as her head leans to the side.

“I was his age when I saw the assets for the first time. He needs to learn. He’s the youngest future Head of House of all the families.”

“I know…I just worry about nightmares.”

Nightmares?

I rush to her side and grab her hand. “I don’t want to have nightmares.”

Dad puts his hands on his knees as he bends over to look me in the eyes. “Nothing you see today will give you nightmares. Not if you learn the first rule of the O’Shea family business and learn it well.”

“W-what is it?”

“Business is business.”

“Business is business?”

“That’s right, my love.” Mam wraps her arm around my shoulders and tucks me against her side. “Remember that you are always safe, always protected, always loved. And the assets we sell are nothing.”

“I don’t understand.”

Dad stands and holds out his hand. “Come with me, I’ll show you.”

I’m nervous, but I take his hand. He leads me across the hard, gray floor and I hear my mother follow, her heels clicking with each step. I turn to look over my shoulder at my brothers. My aunt and uncle, Moira and Colin, and my fourteen-year-old cousin, Cordelia, corral Cormac and Declan to watch them as my mother and father march me toward a door at the far corner of the warehouse.

We stop in front of it and I squeeze Dad’s hand tighter. It looks like jail. In front of a regular, wooden door is another door made of metal bars, running from top to bottom. The man I don’t know pushes numbered buttons on a square that’s built into the barred door. It beeps and clicks, and the man wraps his palm around one of the bars to tug it outward, swinging it open. He then pulls out a key, unlocks one deadbolt, then does it again with another key and another lock.

Why are there so many locks on this door?

Is it a monster?

Is the family business keeping the world safe from a nightmare?

I don’t want to have nightmares!

“Mam!” I try to step back, tugging my arm, but my dad grips me tighter, pulling me to stand beside him. “I’m afraid.”

“Nothing to be afraid of, my boy.” Mam’s soft voice croons from behind me and I feel her hand on my shoulder. I glance sideways to see her red-painted nails as her fingers curl, squeezing me and giving me comfort.

The wooden door opens inward to reveal a dark staircase.

Monsters!

I bring my free hand up to grip my dad’s wrist, pressing myself against his side. “Dad, what’s down there?”

“Assets and inventory,” he says calmly. “It’s all business, my boy, nothing more. It’s time for you to see what it’s all about.”

He moves us forward, following the man with the keys, who flips on a light switch before stepping down the staircase. Light floods the dark space from overhead, but it’s still scary. The steps are enclosed by walls on either side, hiding the basement until we reach the bottom.

We step down onto another gray, concrete floor and a wall of cold, dank air hits me. It doesn’t smell very good down here. I feel my nose scrunch as I press my face into Dad’s jacket.

“This way,” he says as we turn right, and he moves us forward again.

The man I don’t know speaks as we walk, while voices and moans hit my ears, gradually growing louder. “We did a cleansing and inspection of the assets yesterday, so you should be seeing them in their best condition.”

“Good,” my dad replies. “Open your eyes, Murphy.”

I didn’t realize I’d closed them, but now I know they’re pinched tightly shut. I don’t want to look. I don’t want to see.

A girl’s voice whimpers and cries, “Please…please, let us go!”

My eyes snap open because the voice sounds like my cousin Cordelia, though I know it can’t be because I just saw her upstairs.

The girl speaks again, “Don’t put that child in here with us.” Is she talking about me? “Oh, God. Please. Don’t hurt that child!”

I frantically look for my mother, who moves between me and the girl, blocking my view. She crouches in front of me and my wide eyes snap to meet hers.

“Murphy,” she smiles at me, “everything is fine. Don’t listen to them. These girls are right where they are meant to be. They only want out because they are afraid.”

“I’m afraid, too!”

“But you don’t need to be.” She strokes the side of my face and it relaxes me a little. “They can’t hurt you.”

“Why are they here?” I ask as she stands again, her heels clicking across the floor as she walks toward what I think may be a prison room.

I turn my head, taking in my surroundings for the first time. It’s a long and dark hallway, the concrete floor running all the way down to the end, and cages line the walls. Little prison boxes—I think that’s what they’re called. People, lots of people, are behind a wall made of metal bars. My eyes dart up and down the row, but I don’t spot any boys, just girls.

“Where are the boys?” I ask.

My dad squeezes my hand and leads me forward down the hall. “Our business doesn’t have a demand for boys. Not now, at least.”

“I don’t get it. What did they do? You have to do something bad to go to prison, don’t you? Did they do something bad? Is that why they’re here?”

“Don’t think of this as a prison; think of it as a factory. Think of these girls as a product. We purchase raw goods, bring them to the factory for processing, and distribute them to buyers who intend to use them…our clients.”

I’ve heard him use those words before, so I kind of understand, though not entirely. “So, they’re not bad. They’re…products?”

“That’s right.”

“But who chose them to be products?”

“There are certain traits our clients want to see in the product they purchase. We have a large network of collectors who go out into the world and look for assets with those traits. They collect them and bring them to our factories.”

“But they look so upset, Dad. What if they don’t want to be here?”

“None of them want to be here, son, but sometimes your fate is chosen for you. They aren’t given a choice.”

“But…that’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair. That’s just the way it goes. We all have to play the hand we’re dealt. Your hand is running the family business while theirs is to be sold, to serve our clients, to make us money so our family can be fed. You want our family fed, don’t you, boy?”

I nod. I don’t want to be hungry.

“Then this is what we must do to ensure that all the O’Sheas remain fed, to ensure we keep our power and wealth. This is all so you can have a good life…your brothers and cousins, too. One day you’ll take over and be the leader of our business.”

“Why me? Why can’t Cormac do it?”

“Because it’s your birthright as my oldest son.”

“I’m not ready, Dad. I can’t do this!”

“Don’t fret. I’ll teach you everything you need to know in time.” My father smiles at me, stands, and pats me on the head.

He and my mother stride forward down the hall with the other man, talking about things I don’t understand.

“I’m starving…please,” one of the girls says after them, but my parents ignore her. “We haven’t eaten in two days…please.”

I reach into my jacket pocket, my fingers curling around the butterscotch candy Mam gave me earlier. I squeeze the candy in my palm, the wrapper crinkling.

If the business is going to be mine one day, then surely I can decide how to run it, can’t I?

I cautiously step forward, moving toward the bars that separate me from the girls on the other side. The one who said she was hungry grips two of the bars with both her hands. She has dirt on her knuckles, and she’s dressed only in a plain white shirt that stops just above her knees.

“Aren’t you cold?” I whisper.

Her head tilts slowly to the side as a sad look washes over her face. “Yes,” she replies softly. “I’m cold and I’m hungry. We all are.”

“Oh…” I look down at my shoes. “Um, I have this.” Gripping the candy, I slowly pull my hand out of my pocket and take another careful step forward. I hold out my fist toward her, looking down the hall to make sure Mam and Dad aren’t watching, and I open my palm, revealing the candy. “Here. Go on. You can have it. I just had lunch.”

Her eyes widen and the corners of her lips twist upward into a small smile. It makes me smile, too. I like making people happy.

“I can’t take that from you, but thank you,” she says.

“Why not? I don’t want it.”

She glances down the hallway after my parents. “I could get into trouble. They could find the wrapper.”

“Oh.” I pluck the candy from my palm, unwrap it, and shove the wrapper back into my pocket. I pinch the candy between my finger and thumb and hold it out to her again. “Now you can take it. Just suck on it for a while and it will all disappear into your belly. No one will know.”

Her throat bobs as she swallows and she looks nervous, but she can’t take her eyes off the candy. I know she wants it. I don’t understand why she won’t just take it. I step closer and reach my hand through the bars. It scares her and she takes a step back.

“It’s okay, it’s yours.” I smile, trying to make her feel better.

She glances up at my face, then down at my hand. Finally, she snatches the candy, quickly shoving it into her mouth. Her eyes flutter shut and she sighs, rolling the candy around in her mouth.

“Do you like it?”

She nods, opening her eyes and smiling at me.

That makes me happy. “Butterscotch is my favorite. Mam always has them in her purse because she knows it’s my favorite.”

She tilts her head in their direction. “Is that your mother?”

I nod. “Yeah, that’s her.”

“Is she kind to you?”

I’m confused by the question. “Of course, she is. She loves me.”

“Good. And what about your…Is that your dad?”

“He’s kind to me, too, though sometimes he’s mean to other people.”

She steps forward again, wrapping her hands around the bars. “He’s being mean to us,” she says, and it makes me flinch. “We don’t want to be here. He’s keeping us here against our will. Can you tell someone? Can you help us?”

My eyes narrow and I feel my face scrunch up. “I’m just a boy. I can’t do anything.”

“You’re not just a boy. You can do anything you want. You can…you can call the police. Tell them where we are.”

I shake my head. “The Gardaí? No. I’m not allowed to call the guards when we’re traveling. There’s only five guards that our family knows and they’re back home in Ireland. I’m not allowed to talk to anyone else. I can only talk to Aidan Walsh, Brendan Byrne—”

“Murphy!” My dad comes rushing back and steps in between me and the girl. “Don’t you fucking talk to my son.” I slap my hands over my ears. I don’t like hearing Dad angry and cussing. “Stupid fucking whores, the lot of you!”

He spins to face me, crouching and coming level with my eyes. He pulls my hands down from my ears. “What did she say to you? Did she harm you?”

I shake my head. “No, Dad. She was nice.”

“They aren’t nice, Murphy. They will say and do anything to get you to let them out. Do you know what we call a woman who is willing to do anything with a man to save her own skin? We call her a whore. These women are whores. They’re going to do whatever they have to do to try to get free.”

“But we can’t just let them go?”

“No. Our clients demand them, and they will get them.”

I’m still trying to understand all of this.

Dad sighs and looks at me softly. “You said you were afraid of monsters before…of nightmares?”

“Yes. I’m terrified of monsters!”

He leans in close, his eyes burning mine as he looks at me. “Think of our clients as monsters. Monsters who need to be fed to be kept under control. We feed the monsters, Murphy. We feed them these girls, these assets.”

“Like…like a sacrifice?”

“What do you know about sacrifices?”

“I heard that word in a movie. They were talking about taking a princess to a cave and leaving her there as a sacrifice for the dragon. They said it would keep him away from the village for another year and keep everyone safe.”

“Right. It’s like that. Our clients are like dragons, monsters, and we have to sacrifice a few princesses to keep them away from our villages. To keep our family safe. To keep our women safe. Your mother, your aunts, your cousins. We sacrifice others to save ourselves. We feed the monsters to provide for our family.”

I think I’m starting to get it now. “I don’t want anything to happen to my family.”

“That’s right.”

I look over at the girl I gave my candy to and smile as I wave. “Thank you for saving us from the dragons, princess.”

Her face falls and she starts to cry, but I don’t know why. They must be happy tears. Mam told me sometimes she cries happy tears when I find her sobbing alone. She appears beside me, reaching out with her hand and her red-painted fingernails, and I look up at her to find her smiling at me.

I smile back at her, take her hand, and skip along beside her as we walk back toward the staircase.