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Toivo sighed and stood perfectly still, careful to hardly even let his breathing interfere with his brother straightening his collar. After a few moments, he got the distinct feeling that Tycho was pulling on his collar now just to bother him, and he batted the hand away.
Tycho laughed. "Aww, look how handsome you are," he said, leaning back and boxing Toivo between his fingers, imitating a movie camera. "You're ready for your closeup, I think."
"Ghaaa," Toivo replied peevishly. "Why am I doing this?"
"Because Mom said, and we love Mom."
"Damn that woman for giving birth to us," Toivo muttered.
"Eh, you liked it. Anyway, were it not for her, some other poor woman would have been stuck with you as a son." Tycho laughed. "Come on. We don't want to be late for Dad's party."
***
There is just so much abuse one mind can be expected to take. For years, ever since they both left the intellectual haven of Mendelssohn University, Theodore Krommwell had existed in the shadow of Toivo Hughs. Every single time any new bit of groundbreaking information was discovered, Kromwell discovered that Hughs had published first -- by at least a year.
And then, just now, he finished reading Hughs' latest essay. He screamed. And then he threw the pages into his fireplace. It was impossible to eke out a living as a cutting-edge alchemist with that insufferable genius always two steps ahead of him!
And then, on top of all that, Hughs was on one of the review panels for alchemical papers being published. The ones he reviewed, he did not do so nicely. More than once, Kromwell's pride had been hurt, as well as his social standing, thanks in large part to Hughs' reviews of his papers.
But this, the most recent of Hughs' papers, that was it. That was the last straw. It was so brilliant, and explained everything so simply.
There was really only one sollution.
Someone would have to kill Toivo Hughs.
That would level the playing field some.
***
The soiree for Baron Alphonse Hughs' eightieth birthday was being held in his indoor gardens. They were huge, sprawling, glass-walled houses of intricate beauty. There were fountains, fishponds, climbing vines, songbirds, peacocks, and many other items of stature and wealth.
There was live music playing in various parts of the gardens, one quartet for every room. Easilly a sound system could have been established and recorded music played, but that was nowhere near as classy as live music.
"I'm going to go drown in the koi pond, okay?" Toivo asked.
Tycho laughed. "Now, look, Mom was nice enough to invite nice random high-society people in hopes of getting all her kids paired up. Go mingle first, then drown yourself in the koi pond."
Toivo sighed. "If I have to."
"You have to." Tycho smiled warmly at a cluster of young girls around one of the orchids his father cultivated. "We're not related any of them, are we?" he asked his brother out of the corner of his mouth.
Toivo was duplicating the smile with a shy wave. "No, none of them," he confirmed out of the corner of his own."
"Good. Shall we?"
"Might as well."
"Ladies!" Tycho declared warmly, spreading his arms wide. "How nice of you all to join us."
They were a wide variety of complexions and colorations, each in a different color and cut of dress. They all blushed and tittered happily and giggled, eying the pair of smiling young men.
"I hope you're finding our father's party suitable to your tastes," Toivo continued, inclining his head a little, but continuing to smile. He got on better with people when he remembered to smile, it turned out.
How odd.
The girls blushed when either of them looked their way. So... he wouldn't be getting any work done. Okay, fine. It didn't mean he couldn't have any fun at all.
***
Shortly after making his decision, Kromwell decided the best thing for his career would be to not be attatched to the murder he wanted committed. That meant he would have to hire an outside party. That meant he'd best make the murder flashy and important-looking. He'd heard news earlier that month about a soiree to be held for Hughs' father's birthday. That would do.
He knew, through a series of connections, a man called Gustav Shuddenyamok, a man who preferred "Gus" to anything else. He was... strange. But definitely strange enough to kill without any considerable complexes riding with him afterwards.
Kromwell paid Gus a hefty sum up front. Then, he explained to him that he'd be getting more as soon as the mark was completed. Then, he explained just who Toivo Hughs was, and provided him with a good deal of photos.
Gus said there was no problem at all.
Kromwell templed his fingers and touched them together. "Excellent..." he said.
***
Women, Tycho had told him once, are attracted to power, wealth, good looks, intelligence, and charm. Between the two of them, they had all of it.
Toivo laughed appreciatively to one of the comments Linette was telling him. He wasn't really listening. He was more drifting about, happily enjoying the evening in the company of two gorgeous women.
Drusilla on his other side, began gushing about the champagne, and what a lovely vintage it was.
Toivo privately wondered just what was considered "conversation" in the finishing schools these girls had attended.
He especially began to worry when Linette, who up until this point had seemed a brilliant woman, gushed right along with her. And then they started in on the little finger-cakes.
This must be my own personal shade of hell, Toivo thought to himself. But he remembered to keep smiling, and he let one of the girls feed him a bit of her cake. All women can't possibly be morons, he told himself, watching them laugh and tease each other and himself. After all, some pretty stupid men have genius kids, and they have to come from somewhere.
"Is something the matter?" Linette asked, blinking her big blue doe-eyes at him.
"What, no, nothing," he said, and remembered to smile again.
"Oh, well if there is, please let us know," she said gaily.
"I won't hesitate to put you out, even for an instant," he teased her.
The girls liked that one. They both tittered appreciatively.
Toivo continued to smile, and the night continued to stretch on.
***
Gus hefted his rifle on his shoulder. He was perched in a tree outside the gardens, and he'd just seen this Hugh guy that Theo was so keen on offing. He was schmoozing, and didn't look at all like the kind of guy Theo was all uptight about. Whatever. Some people got their panties in a twist about what shade of warm the bathwater was. What did he care? He got paid, didn't he?
He peered into the scope. Yep, that was the guy. Black hair, bangs kinda in the face, cold blue eyes, smile that makes you want to put your fist through those perfect teeth. He was coming down the stairs from one of the upper tiers of the garden to one of the lower ones, finally not surrounded by women or other important figures.
Gus lined up a shot. He'd done his research. That glass was so old that it'd let the bullet through without altering its course.
"Good-bye.... sweet prince..." Gus breathed, and he squeezed the trigger.
***
There was a deafening BANG!, and everyone turned to stare at the glass wall from whence it had come.
Then, in the silence, everyone heard the person fall down the stairs. Everyone turned to look at him.
One of the Hughs twins - at the distance everyone was keeping, no one was quite sure which - was bleeding all over the stairs he was lying on. Then, the youngest of Baron Hughs' four wives pushed through the crowd.
"Tycho!" she screamed, and ran over to him.
That started the shocked silence to being filled with muttering and confused conversation.
Then, someone pushed through the crowd more roughly. "Tycho!" Toivo called, staggering out of the bodies. "Tycho!"
He crouched next to his brother, and felt for a pulse. "Call the doctors and the healers!" he shouted at the crowd, unfastening his cufflinks.
Their mother, next to them, was sobbing into her hands. "He's dying," she whimpered. "My poor baby boy is dying!"
"Mom, calm down," Toivo said sternly.
"My poor baby boy!" She clung frantically to Tycho's other hand, pressed it, bloody though it was, against her face. She was really crying, and Toivo couldn't find a pulse.
He opened Tycho's jacket and pulled the mirror he knew was there from the inner pocket. He held it up by his brother's mouth and nose. Nothing.
Well, he had some training in resussitation, and no one else was really jumping forwards. He pulled a pocketknife from his inner coatpocket and slit Tycho's shirt down the middle, by the buttons, careful not to cut his brother.
He peeled back some of the shirt and winced, seeing just how bad it really was. Their mother gasped and started crying again.
"Gods on Olympus," Toivo muttered, wondering just what caliber shot would snap Tycho's ribs like that. Whatever it was, it was overkill.
He looked around frantically. "The heart's already ruptured," he said in his voice he usually used for explaining alchemical theory.
"His heart!" their mother moaned beside them. "My baby!"
Toivo tried to ignore her, but it was hard. He took a deep breath. "He cant' be revived without his ribs in the right alignment and his heart whole again. I can't fix this without removing the bullet..."
His mother looked scandalized.
"He's dying already!" Toivo shouted angrily at her. "The doctors and healers won't get here for a while! We're out in the middle of nowhere! We may as well be down in Tartarus for all the good they can do!"
His mother quailed a little, and then she nodded quickly, and looked away.
Toivo set his right hand on his brother's collarbone and breathed out a shuddering intranscribeable. With his left hand, he ventured into the chest cavity, and sought out the bullet. He tried to think this was just some poor, average person on the street, but he couldn't. This was his brother, the man who understood every ounce of his passion for life and learning, and echoed it in ways he himself never could.
There was the bullet. He pulled it out, his left hand a bloody mess. He realized he was crying, just a little, as he lifted the silver slug from his brother's chest. Strands of blood drew out in sickly manners with his hand.
He dared a glance at his brother's face. It was pale and bluish in ways he never expected to see. He wanted to scream, to swear down the moon, to take his rage to every god on Olyumpus and make them suffer for what had happened here.
But he didn't.
He dropped the bullet on the stone ground beside him. It sounded too musical to be the bringer of so much chaos. It practically rang out a note, pure and easy, when it hit.
Fighting down rage, he set his thumbs, forefingers, and middle fingers together over the wound, folding back his other fingers. He breathed another intrascribeable, and began knitting the tissues of his brother's heart back together. He bent his brother's body to his will, forcing the blood out of the cardial sac, forcing that shut, reinvigorating some of the cells with his body, his will, and his magic.
He tried to set the bones without fainting, but that wasn't going to happen. He was too lightheaded from working on the heart.
The doctors and healers came, but there was nothing they could do, short of draw a sheet over Tycho's body.
Crying silently, Toivo looked at the shape under the sheet. No one would have had any reason to kill Tycho Hughs. It was then that he finally realized ...
The bullet had been meant for him.
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