Before Sunrise: A Nosferatu Christmas Story
Chapter One
Astor hadn't made it three steps from the classroom door when a hand locked onto his shoulder, stopping him dead in his tracks.
"Come talk a minute," said an unfamiliar voice behind him.
Astor knew who it was before the first word was uttered. It'd been that night's big gossip, it followed him from class to class, dogging him like a needy puppy, only it wasn't half as cute: the prince was looking for him, Astor Gant, a nobody. He'd tried to block out the whispers but they'd only grown louder and turned into taunts: Hey Freakshow, what did your family do to get on the royal radar this time? Are we gonna get to see you strung up in the arena next? I'd order extra BBQ if that happened. I'd throw a party.
Astor tried to bury his head in his books, lose himself in his teachers' lectures, but those words chewed away at him. There was some truth in their teeth. The last thing Astor wanted was to be was looked for by anyone, especially not royalty.
But there was nothing he could do about it either. The consequences for skipping class were too high, and the prince would just come back the next day or the day after that. You couldn't hide in the compound, and you couldn't run. So when the voice and the hand on his shoulder beckoned him, he went. Some folks you didn't say no too, and princes fell high on that list.
He let the eleven-year-old future king steer him away from the busy hallways into less travelled corridors. They were still on the education block, but not the part where the classrooms were. Administration maybe, or somewhere even more remote. The prince stopped at an unmarked door and ushered him through. He closed it behind him before turning on the lights. They were standing in a small storage room; three sides were lined by metal shelving while the final one held two tall cabinets, each sealed with a hefty combination lock.
"Help me move this," the prince ordered, grabbing one side of a large metal shelving unit containing textbooks, dozens of boxes of pencils and other sundry classroom supplies and pulling it towards the door.
Astor gaped at him, wondering if he'd heard right, but followed the instruction nonetheless.
"You can stop looking so scared," the prince said. "What do you think I'm here to do?"
Astor shook his head, refusing make eye contact with the older boy. Whatever this was, he just wanted it to be over.
"I heard your father works in the Alpha crew. Topside runs weekly."
This time Astor nodded. It was a matter of public record, of course, plus the prince suddenly sounded so grown-up and official that it drained a bit of the tension from the room. Astor didn't raise his head fully - deference to royals was still a thing - but far enough to notice that the prince was wearing an identical uniform: school-issue black cargo pants and a grey button-down shirt with his initials monogrammed on the right pocket in black and red stitching above the Argarast family crest. Astor's shirt sported no crest; his family wasn't that important.
"Your father was brought up on charges last year, right? What was it?" Astor was positive the prince was only feigning forgetfulness. There was no way the Keel Argarast would walk into a situation like this not knowing what he wanted. He would be prepared. More than prepared. It's what separated future kings from future public servants like himself, even at this age. "Oh yes, the smuggling of contraband."
Those were big words, but Astor knew what every one of them meant. He wanted to disappear. He imagined toppling the shelves and burying himself in the papers and office equipment. Anything to spare him from having to talk about his father's act of treason, the crime that had almost cost his family everything. He'd been a pariah since the trial, so was his brother. Even though they had nothing to do with their father's actions, they still had to wear the shame right along with him. Worse, nothing had changed. His father continued to bring that topside garbage home after runs, jeopardizing all of them. And it wasn't even for money or anything good, but because he and his little club wanted to study it, learn from it. Astor didn't understand what could be gleaned from the items made by their lunch. More hunting, less thinking, those were words his father would do well to abide by.
Astor tried to abide by a similar mantra now and stayed silent.
"He ever tell you anything about up there?" the prince asked, leaning back against the grey metal doors of the wardrobe-sized cupboard all casual-like.
"That's against the law."
"So's sneaking contraband into the compound," Keel countered, "and he seemed to have no problem with that."
"I didn't want to know. I didn't want anything to do with it," Astor said, his voice as stiff as his spine. It was the truth. He'd gone to his room every time his father had attempted to bring it up until he'd stopped broaching the topic altogether.
"So you inherited none of your father's curiosity?"
Astor remained stone-faced. How was he supposed to answer that anyway?
"Shame," the prince said. "I was hoping you could help me."
"Well, I can't."
"Are you sure? I've heard things have been difficult for you and your brother. I might be able to help fix that." The prince sounded like a grown-up again. Patient and reasonable. And Astor found himself intrigued by the offer.
"How?"
"Well, we can't tell people what we're really going to be working on, but we'll tell them something. Let it travel through school that you've been picked for a special project by the prince and-"
"I don't want to be famous." The words fell out of Astor's mouth in a jumble.
"Kid, you can't have everything. I can make people stop picking on you, but if you want discreet..."
"I- I-" Astor felt panicky, overwhelmed. He'd never done well when pressured. It had gotten worse since the ostracization.
"Hey. Hold up." Hands gripped his arms, steadying him. "Slow down, okay. Take a deep breath - with me." They both sucked in a breath. "Now, release." They exhaled. "And again."
I'm an idiot, Astor thought after two more repetitions, though he had to admit his heart wasn't pounding quite as hard.
"Why don't we start this over?" the prince asked, lowering his hand but keeping it extended in the offer of a handshake. "I'm Keel, and I've come to ask for your help."
Astor raised his head and looked right at the prince for the first time. He was surprised by how much he looked like any other kid with his shirt half untucked, hair unbrushed and in need of a trim, and an expression that didn't match his title at all. Rather, it matched his words. Open, beseeching.
Astor only started to raise his hand when Keel snatched it up and shook it. "Now, what do you say, shall we work together for our mutual good fortune?"
"You sound weird when you talk like that."
Keel laughed. "Sorry. I have a habit of slipping into the formalities of... you know..." Astor wondered why he didn't just say it. "Some might say I'm not socialized enough."
"Yeah, you don't exactly need to lock someone in a closet to start a conversation."
Keel laughed again, but stopped almost immediately. "For this kind of conversation, yes I do." The mood turned more serious again, giving Astor a bit of mental whiplash. The prince was only a year older than him but the gulf seemed much, much wider. "I'm in need of some knowledge - of the specific kind that your father trades in." He appended that last part to the sentence as if it wasn't already obvious.
"And how am I supposed to help you? How do I know you aren't setting my dad up for another bust? That this isn't some kind of undercover op?"
"Because that would be stupid. Plus, how many kids do you know who work Enforcement?"
"None, but I don't know any princes either."
Keel frowned and looked at the floor. His wavy brown hair fell forward in front of his face, hiding the wrinkle of annoyance that creased his brow. "Well, now you do. So, are you in or are you out? I mean, you don't think your dad's the only Nosferatu with scandalous interests. I bet one of those other guy's sons would be thrilled to help the future king."
There were others? The idea blindsided Astor, he always assumed his father's interest was an aberration, shared only by the small cabal he communed with, but he supposed it made sense; sometimes even he wondered about what lay above too. Just never enough to do anything about it. A second later, he realized the prince was probably just playing him. Feeding him all the necessary lines to get him past his gut instinct to say no.
Astor didn't hate that as much as he thought he would. It was nice to be wanted.
"Okay, tell me more," he conceded, sliding an empty bucket off the shelf behind him and flipping it over to make a makeshift chair.
"First, do you know if your father keeps his finds?"
Astor nodded. "In one of the units up there." He pointed at the ceiling. "Under a fake human name, I think."
"Which unit?"
"I have no idea."
"How about the name it's leased to?"
"No. Sorry."
"Do you think your dad would show it to you if you asked?"
Astor rolled this one around in his head. He'd been so uninterested for so long, he had no idea how his father would react to such a sudden change of heart. If he could sell it, really make his old man buy that his interest was genuine, then, yes, he could probably win himself an invitation upstairs. "If I do it right," he told Keel.
Keel grinned, looking pleased. "Great. That's step one. How long do you need?"
"Two, three days," Astor guessed, wondering if he should have given himself a full week. No, he decided, that would be too long, given him too much time to chicken out.
"Okay, I'll find you again on Thursday. Make sure you get the unit number. Or if you can't, just remember how you got there. Got it?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, good. Now help me move this shelf. We'd better get back out there before anyone notices us missing."
Astor helped the prince slide the shelving unit back to its original place, then returned the bucket to where he'd found it. The room looked as if they'd never been there.
"Okay, I'll slip out first. Wait a few minutes before you follow. Here," Keel yanked an unused spiral-bound notebook off the shelf and dropped it into Astor's hands, "take this with you. If anyone asks, just say that you came here to get a new one, that your old one ended up covered in juice or whatever."
Then he was gone. Astor looked down at the notebook and back at the door. Had that just happened? What the hell had he agreed to? No one would believe his notebook had been soaked in juice.