The Black Sheep

by Catherine Bloom

            Treize wandered down the hall filled with paintings of ancient relatives long dead. He was only thirteen years old, but he was quite bright. He had just talked his tutor into letting him out of class early. History was a fascinating subject, but after three hours it became a bit trying.

Turning the corner he found a lovely woman leaning toward one of the paintings. She had dark brown hair and a mischievous look in her cobalt eyes. In one hand she held a tube of lipstick and in the other she held a sleeping four year old against her.

Treize shook his head; his father’s cousin was about to deface another painting.

Jeneis was the black sheep of the Khushrenada family. The latest, and most prominent, disgrace was the boy she carried at her side. He was conceived and born on her trip to the L1 colony, with an unknown Japanese man. The family had tried to convince her to give the boy up, but she was stubborn and told them they could ‘fuck off’.

Treize smiled. Despite her obvious problematic behavior it took a very brave, or foolish, person to tell his father off, especially with such crude language.

“Treize,” Jeneis said looking up from the painting. “Don’t you have tutoring or something right now?”

“I was able to convince my tutor otherwise,” Trieze replied as he looked over at the picture of his great-great-great-great grandfather. The old man looked rather absurd with a lipstick mustache and devil horns. “I hardly think that was called for.”

“Probably not,” she shrugged. “But it’s done now.”

“So, because it’s done, it is all right?” Treize asked cocking an eyebrow.

“Can’t be changed,” she answered, readjusting the sleeping boy to balance on her hip. “Like the coup the Federation staged over in the Sank kingdom. It’s terrible but it can’t be changed.”

“It can,” Treize disagreed, remembering his platinum haired friend’s passion to do so. “I believe it will.”

“I doubt it, but if that’s what you think, I wish you all the luck in the universe that your dreams will come true,” she smiled with a slight bow. “If you’re free, would you like to fence with me?”

“It would be my pleasure,” he agreed. Besides being a stain on the family name Jeneis was one of the best fencers in the world. The fact she was a woman was the only reason her prowess with the sword did not absolve her from eccentric behavior.

The boy cradled in her arm began to squirm as they entered the fencing room.

“Hey, wanna watch your Momma fence?” she smiled, setting the waking boy down on a chair.

The boy wiped the sleep out of his cobalt eyes before nodding. Jeneis ran a hand through his unruly, slightly spiked, hair before she went to decide on a foil. 

“Treize,” a large burly man said entering the room. “Why aren’t you with your tutor?”

“I found more interesting things to do,” Treize answered with a look at his father. “Was it not you who said a gentleman must sharpen his skills as well as his mind?”

“Get back to your tutoring,” his father ordered. “Now.”

“Lighten up cousin,” Jeneis advised, running fingers over the blade.

The man turned with a glare at Jeneis and to her son, before leaving.

Treize shook his head with disgust as he put up the rapier. He was a bit confused; his father usually encouraged his fencing with Jeneis because of her skill. Something was up.

“Well, it was a nice idea,” she smiled, swinging her sword in an arch around her. “Perhaps another time?”

“Of course,” Treize bowed. He fully planned on finding out what his father was up to; it couldn’t be good. “Until I see you again.”

With that he left, with all the elegance a gentleman should possess.

“Sweetie,” Jeneis smiled at her son. “Want Mommy to show you how to fence?”

The boy smiled widely, jumping down from the chair, “Yeah!”

Kneeling down next to her son she held the sword out in front of him. He gripped the hilt with his little hands and scrunched his face at its weight. Wrapping her own hand around his she helped him swing it in a wide arch.

“That’s my baby boy,” she applauded as the child smiled proudly up at her.  “Okay, let’s work on your stance.”

Jeneis and her son spent over an hour working on his skill. For a four old the boy he caught on to the basics very quickly.

“Gotta use the bathroom,” the boy whispered like it was the secret of the ages.

“Don’t let me keep you,” she whispered back, pushing him in the direction of the restroom. Watching her son run away she stood working the kinks out of her knees.

She didn’t even see the movement behind her as a man walked out from the shadows.

A wire asserted itself around her neck as her hands flew to it. She felt a body behind her as the wire tightened. She desperately tried to wedge her fingers under the wire to no avail. Taking deeper gasps of air she found less and less was getting to her lungs. Kicking out she connected with her assailants shin, eliciting only a slight wince as the wire cut off all air.

The world grayed and she heard only the slight whisper in her ear, “this is a message from your cousin.”

She heard, instead of felt, the dull thud of her body hitting the floor. At least now she knew why her cousin wanted Treize to leave; no witnesses. ‘Oh hell, what about my son?’ were her last thoughts.

Odin Lowe let the woman’s body slip to the ground. He wasn’t used to these up close and personal assassinations, but the money was right. He frowned a bit about the second part of his assignment; there was supposed to be a boy…

“Mom?” a small boy, four years old he assumed, walked into the room looking at the woman on the floor. “Momma it’s not nap time.”

Odin frowned. It wasn’t his thing to kill kids, he usually avoided hits like that, but the money had been so tempting.

The boy walked over and shook his mother’s shoulder before looking up at Odin. “What’s wrong with Mom? And who are you?”

“She’s sleeping,” he lied as he made a decision. God, he was getting to old and soft to be in this profession. “I’m you father. I’m here to take you with me.”

“What about Mom?” he asked, looking from Odin to Jeneis’s still form. She looked more peaceful now than usual.

“She’s very tired. I’m sure she’ll come find us when she wakes up,” Odin answered, holding out a hand. What was he going to do with a kid? ‘He could be my apprentice,’ he supposed as the boy, still looking doubtful, took his hand.

With that Jeneis and her son were nothing more than names on death certificates.