Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave

Having someone to go home to made life very different. All he
    wanted was to get home to Angel.
    At his desk going over a report, Conran looked up.
    “Harry Denbigh has been let go per your recommendation.”
    “Good! He‟s a useless little shit. He‟ll probably end up working in private
    security and getting himself killed because he‟s a coward. I actually tried to help
    him act like a man for all the good it did either of us.”
    “I heard you threw him off the castle wall,” Conran said.
    “It was a tower wall actually, and yes, I did. Are you going to fire me?” Kael
    laughed, knowing how valuable he was.
    “Of course not. I also heard that your young Mr. Button distinguished himself.
    It seems he‟s foolhardy like you.”
    “No. He‟s fearless like me. And you saw my assessment of Thornton? She‟s
    excellent.”

    Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave

    15

    “I did.”
    Stephen Conran steepled his fingers, elbows on his desk. He licked his upper
    lip, a habit Kael had observed the man indulge many times when he was nervous.
    And he was always nervous around Kael. He paused, swallowed, and spoke quietly.
    “Look, the reason I called you in is because I‟m taking you off your language classes.
    Someone else will take over the German and French, and Dragana Adzovic is taking
    over your Russian class. You‟ll continue with your afternoon classes training
    operatives in self-defense, firearms, and all the things you excel at.”
    Every muscle in Kael‟s body tightened. He loved languages, and he loved
    teaching them. “What the fuck?”
    Conran used one foot to push his swivel chair back from his desk as if
    attempting to put a little more distance between them. He took a long breath and
    glanced at the door. Kael was unsure if Conran hoped no one outside would hear or
    if he was gauging his access to escape if need be. “Saunders, I‟m sorry, but there
    have been complaints.”
    “Stillwell? The Billy Bunter of my German class?”
    “You hit him across the head!”
    “He deserved it!”
    Conran rose and went quickly to the whisky bottle sitting on a silver tray on
    the polished sideboard. He poured two tumblers and then hurried toward Kael,
    proffering the glass with a look of frightened urgency. He had been afraid of Kael
    ever since they had boarded together at College Grange School as teenagers and
    Kael had punished Conran for being rude about his mother.
    Standing up, Kael towered over Conran, who was no more than five feet ten.
    With a flick of his wrist, he sent the tumbler flying across the room, where it landed
    on the hardwood floor, shattering into splinters. The smell of fine whisky sat rich in
    the air. “Stillwell is as thick as pig shit. They‟re all idiots in that class.”
    Conran took a quick gulp of whisky. “So you should be grateful to get rid of
    them then.”
    “I‟m brilliant at languages.” He watched Conran hurry behind his desk again.
    “You are indeed brilliant at learning languages in a very short time and
    retaining them. You are brilliant at speaking them with no discernible accent. You
    are not brilliant at teaching them.”
    “Why not?” Kael demanded. How dare the little shit tell him he had faults?
    Looking frightened and frustrated, Conran‟s face was growing red. “Look,
    Saunders, why don‟t you sit down.”
    “Am I making you nervous?” Kael placed both hands on Conran‟s desk and
    leaned into his face.
    In a quiet voice, his eyes averted, Conran said, “You always make me nervous.
    I have spent the day dreading talking to you about this. Please sit down. Please.”
    Kael stood upright as if he had no intention of complying. “Get me a whisky.”

    16
    Fyn Alexander

    Conran leaped up to obey, and Kael sat down comfortably again, resting his
    left ankle on his right knee, looking as if he was in his own home watching
    television. He took the glass and swallowed half in one swig. “Let me get this right.
    You‟re removing me from my position because I smacked an idiot across the head.”
    “It‟s not just him. Half your German class was at human resources last Friday
    complaining that you threw chalk and blackboard erasers at anyone who sniffed too
    loudly or dropped a pen.”
    “That‟s an exaggeration.” Kael finished his whisky and put the glass on the
    desk.
    “Members of your Russian class have been complaining from the moment term
    began, especially about the mobile phones you‟ve confiscated. And perhaps you
    didn‟t