The young boy nodded, his bow-lips parted slightly and glistening with drool; he’d been sucking on his thumb again while his grandfather had been talking on the phone. The old man noticed this, and a sliver of anger shot its solder iron-hot blitz through him, like an unexpected splinter jabbing sharp pain under a fingernail. He forced himself to swallow this, however, and he instead the calm, reassuring smile he wore on his countenance stayed in place.
‘Well like I said, you don’t have to worry none about that. You’re a good, good boy, Sam. You always do what I tell you, so you don’t need to worry none about me getting angry with you like that.’
Samuel didn’t seem quite convinced by this.
‘Your voice is scary when you’re angry, grandpa,’ he murmured, eyes big as plates.
The old man chuckled, consciously trying to make it as warm and inoffensive a sound as he could.
‘It has to be, young Sam! Otherwise folks wouldn’t take what I say seriously. That’s something you’ll understand when you’re older. You need to be strong in this world, my boy, very strong. You can’t be weak, and you can’t be seen as weak, even if deep down inside you are weak. Do you understand?’
Sam shook his head slowly, his mouth hanging half open with confusion.
‘It’s like this, Sam,’ the old man explained with grandfatherly patience. ‘You’re a boy now, but you’re growing up, you’re growing up oh so fast! And you’ll be a man soon enough, but not just any man. No, a man carrying a name – the Deveraux name – which is a very, very well-respected name in these parts. And do you know why us Deveraux men have been respected for countless generations? Because we’re strong. We’re powerful. And even if we do have weaknesses inside us – like all people do Sam, everyone has their own weaknesses – we never, ever, ever show anyone these weaknesses. We only let ‘em see our strengths. That’s the only thing outsiders ever see of a Deveraux man: strength.Power. That’s why we have Mr Chen staying here on the estate, teaching you every day how to fight, with all his fancy kung-fu moves and all that. That’s not just for fun and games, young Sam! It’s to make you strong. And that’s why I take you out hunting with me too. A Deveraux man has to learn from an early age how to fight, how to shoot, how to kill. How to be the master of his environment, so that he may in turn be master of his fellow men – because you, Sam, you were born to lead, not to follow. And to lead you need strength, real strength, like I told you. Now you do like your combat classes, don’t you? I know Mr Chen is tough on you sometimes, but he’s fair, ain’t he?’
Sam nodded, biting his lip and shifting his little foot in circular patterns in the dirt.
‘Yes. I watch you, I watch you all the time my boy. You’ve got a strong right hand, you really do. You can hit that bag like a pro. And if I don’t say so myself, you’re such a damn fine shot with your rifle, too! You enjoy going out to the woods and taking squirrels and birds, don’t you?’
Sam nodded again.
‘Well when you’re a bit stronger, we’ll put something a bit more powerful in your hands and we’ll make sure you get to take your first deer soon. Your first whitetail, imagine that!’
Sam smiled bashfully.
‘Would you like to shoot a deer?’
This question was answered with an eager nod.
‘Oh, it’s much more of a thrill than shooting lil’ varmints like squirrels, I can tell ya that. And then in a few years, if you’re real, real hardworking and diligent, grandpa’ll take you on a hunting safari to Africa. How would you like to take down an elephant, as big as a house?’
The boy’s eyes widened, and a smile of excited delight brightened his features.
‘I seen an elephant grandpa, I seen one!’
The old man smiled.
‘In the zoo, I know. But it’s something different when you’re out in the bush in Africa, something very, very different. And you’ll be able to take so much game there! Lions, rhinos, hippos, giraffes, leopards, zebras, African buffalo, why, all kinds! But only if you’re a good boy, and only if you always do exactly what you’re told. Y’hear me?’
Sam nodded, smiling with bright keenness now, his eyes alive with anticipated excitement. Mr Deveraux tousled the lad’s hair again.
‘Good. Come on, let’s head in. I just caught a whiff of one of grandma’s turkey roasts on the breeze. Can you smell it?’
Sam raised his nose to the wind and sniffed dramatically. Then he grinned with triumph, his eyes aglow in the dark as if he’d just solved a confounding riddle.
‘I can smell it grandpa!’
Mr Deveraux chuckled and rose up from his squatting position, grunting as the old pain flared up.
‘Well then, in we go. But remember, no gravy for you unless you say grace perfectly tonight. You been practicing?’
‘Uh-huh! I been practicing!’
‘That’s what I like to hear now. Let’s go then.’
While the rest of the family began to gather around the dinner table, Mr Deveraux hurried off to his private office, located in a tower at the very top of the mansion. Once inside, he logged into his email, and there, waiting for him, was the hi-res picture of the portrait he had spent years hunting high and low for. He could not contain his excitement as he opened the file. If this truly was a picture of the person, or, rather, the beastwalker he suspected it was, and it matched the recent spy satellite photo taken in the middle of the Congo rainforest of an as-yet unidentified beastwalker … well, it would be an absolute game-changer. Nothing
