Vengetti Family: Boss Candidate

Angel wasn’t paying attention. Math was not really his strong point, and less with a teacher like Mrs. Aeborn. He was trying to sleep, since Phoebe had kept him awake all night trying to clean the house. What kind of sane person did chores at three in the morning?

“Mr. Thompson, if you’re not going to spend your time in school learning, I suggest you go do something productive in detention,” Mrs. Aeborn said testily, standing over him holding a detention slip.

Angel sighed and raised his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

He grabbed the pink detention slip and trudged out of the classroom. Abethory High school consisted of three large buildings housing five school grades. Angel was in the second building reserved for nine and ten year students, but the detention room was in the third building. He crossed the large school yard stepping on grass that was out of bounds and entering the third building through an exit only door. He had travelled this path many times and he could walk it in his sleep. The detention room was on the west wing of the building, and the only room in the hall. He passed the trophy display and opened the door without knocking. About five other students were seated in the faded classroom, with a bored looking teacher sitting behind the desk, his feet on the desk leaning back on his chair.

“What do you have for me, Thompson?” Mr. Tronell asked.

Angel checked his backpack. Sophie was always packing him lunch even though she knew he never ate it. “Got an apple, a Trix bar, pink lemonade, and a P&J sandwich,” he said.

“Take the apple, give me the rest,” Mr. Tronell said. Angel took out the red apple and handed him his lunch bag. He then proceeded to take his seat by the window. Mr. Tronell had a deal with all of the students who frequented the detention room: feed him and he would look the other way. Detention was supposed to be punishment, a room where the students were forced to finish mundane work like writing the national anthem a hundred times. If you made a deal with Mr. Tronell, detention turned into a free class period where the worse thing you could do was nothing. Angel had made his deal with Mr. Tronell in his first year in Abethory High and spent detention asleep.

Detention lasted as long as a class hour did. When the bell rang, the students were supposed to go to their next class hour as scheduled. After Math, Angel had World Geography, another useless class in his opinion.

“Hey, heard Aeborn send you to detention,” Freddie, a friend of his, whispered to him. Mr. Gates was one of the only teachers who really enjoyed the subject he taught. However, he had no idea the students didn’t and often went through the whole class hour without noticing that no one was paying attention to his fast-paced lecture.

“Yeah,” Angel muttered. He was trying to go to sleep again, but knew Freddie was a talker.

“Isn’t this like, your tenth time going to D-room?” he asked, tapping his pen against the desk. That was a nervous habit of him.

“Yeah, so?”

“So? It’s Friday! You know they’re going to call your aunt,” he said.

“Oh, shit, that’s right!” Angel gasped, momentarily forgetting that he was in school.

“Mr. Thompson, I do not tolerate vulgar language in my room. Please leave,” Mr. Gates ordered, a pink slip in his hand.

“Guess this is the eleventh time,” Angel muttered to Freddie, standing up.

 

Angel went to detention exactly three times before lunch, and according to Freddie, that was a school record.

“Twelve times you got sent to detention! I’m telling you man, you are going down in Abethory High school history,” Freddie said loudly, stuffing his face with Wacky Mac & Cheese Wednesday.

“As the kid who died the most times in a day,” Angel said. “Phoebe is going to kill me! She just had a conversation with me on Monday about school behavior and she’s getting a call today about me going to detention.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna miss you, bro,” said Freddie, “but at least Phoebe is doing the killing. She’s hot.”

“You’re kidding, right? You’re talking about my aunt! That’s gross,” Angel complained.

“Hey she’s nothing to me. I can say whatever I want about her and not feel the least shameful,” Freddie shrugged.

“Maybe I’ll run away,” Angel said thoughtfully, going back to the Phoebe-is-going-to-kill-me topic. “I can hide until she gets tired of looking for me, right?” Angel stood up to throw away his uneaten food, but crashed into someone, smashing Wacky Mac & Cheese all over the person’s shirt.

“Dammit, Thompson!” It was Davis, a brawny twelve year known for his quick temper and golden arm in football. “You got cheese all over my lucky shirt!”

Angel looked at the faded red t-shirt. “C’mon, I did you a favor! Look at that thing, is all torn and smelly.”

Wrong thing to say. Davis’ face turned red and he got inside Angel’s personal bubble. “This is my lucky shirt. I haven’t lost a game while wearing this shirt and we got a game tonight. Now, you got cheese all over it and it’s ruined.”

“It was an accident, man. Freddie, tell the man it was an accident.” Angel turned around, but Freddie was no where to be seen.

“Looks like your friend left you, doesn’t it? Real smart friend you got there, if you ask me,” Davis said softly: always a bad sign with big brutes. “He sensed danger and ran away.”

“I’m sure he went for a snack,” Angel said quickly. “Let me go look for him and ask him.” He tried to escape, but Davis grabbed him by the back of his collar and dragged him back. Angel fell on the floor, hitting his elbow on the ground. They had attracted a crowd, which had started to chant the national fight song: Fight! Fight! Fight!

Davis made as if to grab him, but Angel slid in between his legs and kicked him on the ass, making him fall forward.

“You’re going to regret that!” Davis snarled.

“Regretting it right now,” Angel said, sliding under the table to the other side. Davis stood up but Angel now had the table between them.

“I’m gonna twist your little neck like a chicken’s!” Davis snarled.

“What is going on here?”

Both Davis and Angel froze instantly as Principal Eckford broke through the crowd with two teachers by his side.

“Well, I’m waiting for an answer,” he said testily. Both Angel and Davis remained quite. They knew that their best defense against Eckford was to stay quiet and look ashamed.

“No answer? Fine. To my office, both of you.”

Phoebe would definitely not like this.

 

As it turned out, Angel only got a strong verbal warning and a threat to call home. What saved him was Coach Morgan and Principal Eckford’s strong sense of fairness. Since Davis was the star player in tonight’s football game, Coach Morgan vouched for him, imploring the principal not to give him afterschool detention. Eckford gave in, and he also forgave Angel’s punishment to keep the whole thing fair. Still, it was with a sense of dread that he opened the front door of his house after school.

“Phoebe? I swear whatever it was, I can explain,” he called, walking into the living room.  “Oh. I didn’t know we had company.”

Three smartly dressed men were standing around the living room, with a fourth man seated in the couch in front of Phoebe.

“Angel, how was school?” Phoebe asked. Angel sensed some hesitation in her question.

“Um, you didn’t get the call?”

“What call?” she asked suspiciously.

“No, nothing,” Angel said quickly. “Hey, I’m Angel,” he introduced himself, raising a hand in greeting.

“Angel, this is Alphonse Claire . . . an old acquaintance of mine,” said Phoebe, completely leaving out the other three men who didn’t seem to mind.

“A pleasure meeting you, Angel. You look a lot older,” Alphonse said formally. He had the traces of an Italian accent.

“Have we met?” Angel asked.

“When you were a baby,” Alphonse said, smiling. “Barely fifteen months old. No wonder you don’t remember your uncle.”

“Uncle? Are you, like, related to one of my parents?” Angel knew Phoebe wasn’t his real aunt. She was merely a good friend of his mother and his legal guardian. He simply called her aunt because she was like family to him. However, he never knew his parents had family.

“I’m your mother’s step brother,” Alphonse said.

“Phoebe doesn’t like speaking about my parents,” Angel said, hoping that this new found uncle would be able to shed some light into the mystery that was his parents.

“Angel, go to your room,” Phoebe suddenly said.

“What? But—“

“Now!”

“Let the boy be, Phoebe,” Alphonse said pleasantly. “He deserves to know a little about his parents.”

“You stay out of this, Claire,” Phoebe hissed. “Angel, go to your room.”

Angel was taken back. He had never heard Phoebe so mad. He made as if to leave the room but two of other men took a step towards him threateningly.

“Tell your men to let him go, Alphonse,” Phoebe said.

“You know I would never harm him,” Alphonse said. “It wasn’t me that Carmen was running away from.”

Angel didn’t understand what was going on. He had never seen Phoebe act this way. And what was Alphonse talking about? Who was his mother running away from?

“What about my mother?” Angel asked, turning to look at Alphonse.

“Angel, I gave you an order.”

“Phoebe, who was my mother running away from?” Angel asked her.

“Not now. Do as I say,” Phoebe ordered.

“Who was my mother running away from?” Angel repeated, this time talking to Alphonse.

“From no one, really,” Alphonse shrugged. “It was more like a rebellion. Your mother didn’t want you growing up with the family. So she gave you to her best friend: Phoebe the Tactician. She new Phoebe was the only one who could run away with you and not be caught by the rest of us.”

“And the only reason why Angel hasn’t been bothered until now is because the family didn’t need him. So why are you know, all of a sudden, so interested in him?” Phoebe asked.

“The helm is empty and he is one of the candidates to be the new boss.”

“When you say family . . . do you mean the family?” Angel asked. If they were talking about what he thought they were talking, then he understood why Phoebe wanted him out of the room. The men around him no longer seemed like classy business men.

“He’s smart,” Alphonse grinned. “Yes, Angel. I mean the family. The Mafia Family. The Vengetti Family. You’re mother was boss, and then she died, leaving her younger brother as head. Now, is time to choose a new head, and you are one of the candidates.”

“Angel isn’t a Vengetti,” Phoebe said. “He’s a Thompson. You never saw him. You won’t tell a word about this to anyone.”

Angel was still a bit in shock. The Vengetti? As in the Vengetti? Angel had heard about them. It wasn’t news to anyone that the multi-billionaire family had a bad relationship with the law. He was regretting his decision to stay in the living room.

“Even if I lie and tell everyone I didn’t find him, there’s a chance the Bracelet will point to him. I am not willing to risk that chance. You don’t have to worry, Phoebe. There are only two other candidates and a great chance that Angel will be chosen.”

“I said no,” Phoebe affirmed. “He will be killed.”

“K-killed?” Angel stuttered. “You forgot to mention that earlier.”

“You won’t die, Angel,” Alphonse said. “But Phoebe will.”

“What?” Phoebe looked away, fortifying Alphonse’s words.

“She has kept you hidden from the family. We have deemed this as highly disrespectful. Even if you keep running away, Phoebe will be hunted and you will be dragged to Florida to take the test.”

“You will die?” Angel whispered to Phoebe. “Because of me?”

“I’m the Tactician,” Phoebe said. “I have kept the family away from us for fourteen years. I can do it for another six years until Angel is of age.”

“The only reason why they haven’t taken you away is because I interfered in your behalf,” Alphonse said, nodding to the three men. “If Angel is chosen as boss, he can take the ransom money off your head and you will be a free woman again.”

“And if I let you take him away there is a chance he will die. And if that doesn’t happen, then he will be chosen boss and everything Carmen did to protect him would go to waste,” Phoebe hissed.

“It’s true that the Vengetti is not as pure as we used to be,” Alphonse said. “But that could change with Angel at the top. As boss, he will be able to change the family, to return it to its original path.”

“If he’s chosen.”

Angel was thinking hard. Phoebe was being tracked by criminals and the only way for her to live was for him to be the boss. He didn’t really need to think about it: Phoebe was everything he had. He was not about to let her die.

“Let me get this right,” he said to Alphonse, ignoring Phoebe’s piercing glare. “If I go with you, I’ll be boss and save Phoebe’s life?”

“No. If you go with him you will take a test to determine if you are the boss,” Phoebe interrupted. “If you fail it, the boss will probably kill you and the other candidates to assure his position and we’ll both die.”

“Your mother was chosen to be the boss,” Alphonse said. “Most chances are you will be chosen too. And it is not a given that you will be killed. Not all chosen bosses kill their fellow candidates. But even if you’re not chosen, there is a greater chance of saving Phoebe from the inside.”

“I will not be used to convince Angel of this!” Phoebe yelled.

“I’ll do it,” Angel said determinedly.

“You will not!”

“Angel makes the decisions here, darling,” Alphonse said, smiling. “Men, take her away.”

“Wait, where are you taking her?” Angel asked.

“Don’t worry,” Alphonse said as the three men surrounded Phoebe. “She will be imprisoned in our jailhouse. But she won’t be executed until the boss is chosen. You can still save her.”

“Angel, don’t do this,” Phoebe said. “Get away from me!”

“Come, Angel,” Alphonse said to him, gently grabbing him by the elbow and leading him out of the house. “Don’t worry about her. She won’t be harmed.”

As Angel was led out of the house, he caught sight of something shimmering from Phoebe’s ponytail. Before he could see what it was, Alphonse pulled him out of the house.

 

Alphonse had taken him to LAX where a private jet was waiting for them to take them to Miami Florida.  The flight had taken about five hours which Angel spent worrying about Phoebe. Alphonse assured him that she was going to be okay, but Angel was having second thoughts. They arrived in MIA late into the night and booked a suite in a hotel.

The next morning, Angel woke up early in the morning and found a note in his nightstand telling him to meet Alphonse in the hotel’s restaurant at nine o clock. Angel checked the alarm clock: it read 8:16 a.m. He took a quick shower and dressed with the same clothes he had on the day before; they had left L.A. without any of his belongings.

“How did you sleep, nipote?” Alphonse asked once Angel was seated in the seat across from his.  He was drinking a cup of coffee.

“Nice. This hotel is pretty cool,” Angel said, serving some fruit into his plate.

“Miami is a beautiful place to live in,” Alphonse nodded. “Is a shame that we aren’t allowed to settle down here.”

“We aren’t?” Angel asked.

“No. Florida, much like California, is a free state: Families are forbidden from settling down here.”

“Forbidden by who?” Angel asked. He had thought that a Mafioso family would not need permission from anyone to do anything they wanted.

“I’ll explain that later,” Alphonse said quickly. “I was thinking we could buy you some clothes before you meet the other candidates later today.”

Angel looked down at his clothes. “I don’t have any money.”

“Don’t worry about money,” Alphonse grinned. “I have that covered. You ready?”

Angel took a last bite of his breakfast. “Uh, yeah.”

“C’mon.” Alphonse stood up and dropped a fifty dollar bill in the table. Angel followed him out of the hotel; a black Lincoln Town was waiting for them outside, two men standing by the open doors of the car. Alphonse took him to Bal Harbour where he bought him everything from Gucci, Versace, and Armani to the most affordable brands like Abercrombie & Fitch and Old Navy.

“Are you sure we can afford all of this?” Angel asked Alphonse as he paid for Angel’s clothes.

“Angel, the Vengetti own multiple successful companies. I am completely sure that we can afford this,” Alphonse rolled his eyes. “If you are going to be our boss, you need to look the part. Call this an investment in yourself.”

“You’re pretty confident that I’m going to be chosen,” Angel muttered. The two men that had accompanied them took the shopping bags from the counter and followed them as Alphonse led him outside the store. He led him to a coffee shop, but waved the waitress away.

“Most of the time, the direct descendant of the boss is chosen,” Alphonse said. “You see, every family has a similar hierarchy line: the boss is at the top with the underboss directly below him. After the underboss, you have the caporegime and finally the soldiers. Each family also has a consigliere, which is like an advisor to the boss. Your mother was the boss and her younger brother was the underboss. When your mother died, her brother became the boss. Giovanni, her brother, died three months ago, leaving the family without an underboss to take care of the family. You, Giovanni’s son, and the daughter of Carmen’s niece, are the candidates to be the new boss. Looking at that set up, I say you have the most chances of becoming the new capo.”

“And what do the other people do? You know, the soldiers and the caporegime, and stuff?” Angel asked.

“The soldiers take of most of the field work. They run errand for us, they sell our less legal products and things like that. The caporegime takes care of bands of soldiers. They deal with traitors and new recruits and they are in charge of keeping the boss and underboss aware of everything that is going on in the field. The underboss is simply there to take care of the family in case something happens to the boss,” Alphonse said.

“Everything seems well organized,” Angel said.

“We need to be,” Alphonse said. “There are some things about the Vengetti you need to know, but I can’t speak of that kind of information without being certain that you are going to join our family.”

“You mean like when you said before that you weren’t allowed to live in Florida?” Angel asked.

Alphonse glanced at him with a strange expression in his eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “Like that.”

“Sir, is four o’ clock,” one of the men said softly to Alphonse.

“Thank you,” Alphonse said. “We’re meeting with the other candidates back in the hotel at five o’clock. We don’t want to be late.”

“Oh, okay,” Angel said standing up. “Is the test today?”

“Yeah, there is another appointment on Monday and the test needs to be done before that,” Alphonse said.

A different car was waiting for them a couple of blocks away from the coffee shop. Angel got on the back seat of the car and Alphonse sat next to him.

“Back to the hotel, Roger,” he said to the driver.

“Sure thing, Mr. Claire.”

Roger took the back to the hotel in about half an hour. That gave Angel enough time to change into something more ‘suitable’ as Alphonse put it. He was supposed to change clothes and then meet Alphonse in his suite, where the Capo ceremony was supposed to take place at five.

Alphonse’s suite was a floor above Angel’s and he had two men dressed in black Armani guarding his door. They let Angel inside the room, which was much bigger than Angel’s suite. Alphonse had a kitchen, a game room, a living room, a conference room, a dining room, a bathroom, a bar, and a Jacuzzi in his room. The room was huge and it faced the ocean. It was truly expectacular. Angel walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that showed off the amazing ocean view.

“Angel? Come over to the conference room,” Alphonse said. He was standing over by the conference room entrance next to the swirling staircase.

“Nice view,” Angel said, following him inside the conference room.

“Thanks.”

There were six people waiting for them inside the conference room seated around a large, honey wood table. Placed in a crystal box in the middle of the table was a leather bracelet.

“Angel, these are the other candidates: your cousin Derek, and your niece, Roxanne,” Alphonse said, motioning with his hand at a tall boy older than Angel and a little girl of about six. The girl’s face could barely be seen over the tall table, yet Angel noticed her wildly curly red hair. Derek had a buzz cut that fit his square face and tough expression. He was thicker than Angel, but in an athletic way.

“This is Susana, Roxanne’s mother and your cousin.” Alphonse motioned to the young woman next to little Roxanne. Susana also had red hair, though hers was a little more tamed and straight, instead of curly.

“These are Kleilan and Melin. They are here to oversee the ceremony,” Alphonse said, though he didn’t look at the two men. Angel looked at them curiously. They were both dressed similarly in white nondescript suits. They didn’t stand out in the room: their clothes were neatly pressed, their faces plain, and their hair neatly cropped. They were seated at the top of the table, their hands folded on the table with expectant expressions in their faces. Angel noticed the space of three chairs that the others had kept between themselves and these two men.

“Kleilan, this is Angel Vengetti, Carmen’s son and the third candidate,” Alphonse said to the shorter of the two men in a tone Angel didn’t recognize. Was it respect or fear?

“Don’t you need proof that he is indeed my late aunt’s son to make that kind of assumption?” Derek said, glancing at Angel with a lazy drawl.

“I have already sent that proof to Kleilan, nephew,” Alphonse said to Derek. “Besides, just by looking at him you can see that he is indeed Allen’s son, can’t you Kleilan?”

Even though Alphonse had directed the question at Kleilan, it was the younger Melin that reacted. Angel saw as Kleilan shook his head softly and Melin calmed down. It happened so fast he doubted anyone had seen it.

“My opinion does not matter, Claire. However, Derek, Alphonse has sent me DNA proof that this boy is Carmen’s son,” Kleilan said in an unemotional tone of voice. “We see no reason to keep him out of the ceremony.”

“Then lets begin,” Susana said uncomfortably. “I don’t want to make this any longer than it has to.”

“Very well. But as Angel Vengetti does not know how the bracelet works we will have to explain it to him,” Melin said. His voice was softer than Kleilan’s and Angel could tell that he was younger.

“Sit Angel, “Alphonse murmured to him, pulling out a chair next to Roxanne. Angel sat down next to the little girl who was talking softly to a rag doll in her lap.

“Angel Vengetti, it is to our understanding that Phoebe Mathews never spoke to you about Mafioso or Amplifiers,” Kleilan said to Angel.

“No, she didn’t,” Angel answered hesitantly. He was aware that everyone in the room was nervous about the two men’s presence.

“Do you know what chakra is?” Melin asked.

“No.”

“What abut qi or prana?”

“Isn’t qi a Chinese belief in spiritual energy or something?” Angel said.

“Life force, to be exact,” Kleilan nodded. “Life force is believed to be an energy inside all living beings that connects us to the universe. This is a form of spiritual strength that when manifested, can affect our physical performance.”

“Okay,” Angel said, not really sure where all of this was going.

“The Chinese have known of this power for a long time, but it didn’t travel to outside nations until the 1200s during the Mongol rule. During this time, two siblings from a noble Italian family learned of this Chinese belief and explored it to its fullest, hoping to find a way to use qi to cure physical injuries that had ailed their younger sister,” Melin begin. “They were never able to access enough of this ‘life energy’ in order to cure their young sister’s disability. However, their sister was a very intelligent person and she invented a device that would help them channel their life force into physical performance. These three siblings later created the first three mafia families, though at that time they were known with a different name and their objective differed from today's. They used the device or Amplifier as it is called, to increase their physical performance and help people. This bracelet you see here is the Amplifier of the first Vengetti boss, Micchele Vengetti.”

“So how is that supposed to help determine the new boss?” Angel asked.

“Each Life Force is different,” Kleilan explained. “Much like a finger tip. You see, a Life Force contains a person’s beliefs: their goals, their motives, their ethics, and etcetera. With time, technology increased to a point where an Amplifier  could be made to read an exact Life Force and deny all others. But in the times of Micchele, Amplifiers could read Life Forces that were similar to that of Micchele, so they Amplifier was passed down from father to son. It wasn’t until the era of the ninth Vengetti boss that the Amplifier stopped accepting the Vengetti boss’s Life Force. Do you know why?” Kleilan asked.

“Because the Life Forces were no longer similar,” Angel answered.

“Exactly. The beliefs of the Vengetti started to change, so the Amplifier no longer answered to the boss’s Life Force.  But since Gertrude was of direct blood to the Vengetti, she was chosen as boss. It wasn’t until the twelfth Vengetti boss that things started to change. While playing around, the children of the twelfth boss touched the bracelet that until then was kept as a family heirloom. The bracelet lit at the touch of the middle child, though it didn’t amplify her Life Force. However, the twelfth saw this as a sign that she was supposed to be the next boss and since then, the Vengetti family brings forth candidates to be chosen by the bracelet to be the boss.”

Angel glanced at the old bracelet. It looked normal enough to him: it was simply three pieces of black leather attached by silver buckles.

 “What happens if it doesn’t choose anyone?” Angel asked.

“Then the family will keep looking for blood relatives to the family until it chooses one,” Melin said.

“And all Mafioso families are like this?” Angel asked.

“No. There are only twenty-nine families spread around the world that use Amplifiers. The Vengetti is not the only one who chooses its boss by the amplifier of the first boss.”

“You only have to touch it and if it lights up, you are the boss,” Alphonse said to him.

“And if it doesn’t, you get killed,” Derek grinned.

“Can we begin with the ceremony?” Melin asked.

They nodded. Angel glanced at Derek. He was going to kill him and Roxanne if he was chosen boss. Angel remembered what Phoebe had said about bosses wanting to assert their position by killing the other candidates.

“Very well. We will begin by order of arrival. Roxanne Smith will be first, followed by Derek Vengetti, and then Angel Vengetti,” Kleilan said. “Proceed.”

“Come, Roxxie,” Susana murmured to little Roxanne. “Touch the bracelet, honey.”

The girl looked up. “I can touch it?” she asked.

“Yes, sweetie. Come, touch it,” Susana said, lifting the bracelet off its crystal box. She gave it to the little kid, who held it wonderingly in her hands. A whole minute passes and nothing happened.

“Roxanne Smith is not the boss,” Kleilan said and Angel heard Susana sigh in relief.  “Give the bracelet to Derek Vengetti.”

“Honey, give the bracelet to your uncle Derek,” Susana said.

“No, it’s mine,” the girl pouted.

“Roxanne, give me the bracelet,” Susana said sharply and the girl handed her the bracelet grudgingly.

“Thanks,” Derek said, taking the bracelet form Susana. He held the bracelet gingerly in his hand. Slowly, the bracelet started to glow with a soft light that gradually grew brighter. Angel felt his heart drop as Derek grinned deviously. He glanced at Alphonse, who was starting at Derek with a white face.

“Derek Vengetti is the boss of the Vengetti family,” Kleilan said. “You will have to attend the Academy for half a year in order to be fully accepted into your position. Do you agree with these terms?”

“I do,” Derek said, placing the bracelet back in its crystal box. He glanced at Angel and grinned. Angel tried not to look away. Phoebe was going to die. He was sure of it. There was no way Derek was going to let him live, let alone Phoebe.

“MY bracelet!” Roxanne yelled, climbing the table and grabbing the bracelet.

“Roxanne!” Susana chided, grabbing the girl by the forearm. “Give that bracelet.”

“NO!” the girl yelled, fighting her mother. Susana made as if to grab the bracelet but the girl sharply pulled back her arm and let go of the bracelet.

“The Amplifier!” Alphonse yelled.

Angel jumped and grabbed the bracelet in midair, crashing into the floor.

“Angel, are you okay?” Alphonse asked.

“I’m fine,” Angel said. “I got the bracelet.”

He held up the bracelet and heard everyone gasp. He glanced at the Amplifier, thinking he had damaged it, but it was glowing brightly in his fist. He could hardly see his hand over the bright white light. Scared, he dropped the bracelet into the table and it stopped glowing. There was a short, charged silence.

“What does this mean?” Derek asked Kleilan.

Kleilan glanced at Melin. “It means Angel Vengetti was also chosen to be boss.”

“Is that even possible?” Susana asked.

“We haven’t seen this happen before, but it looks like it,” Melin shrugged.

“So what are we going to do?” Alphonse asked.

“Well, do any of you give up the title as boss?” Kleilan asked, looking at Angel and Derek.

“No,” Derek said forcibly.

Angel hesitated. He didn’t want to be boss, but if he said no, then Derek was going to kill Phoebe. Angel didn’t feel like he could trust Derek’s word and he had never gone against his gut feeling.

“No,” he said.

“Then you will both have to fight for the title,” Kleilan said. “The family will remain at a standstill until the boss is chosen. Angel and Derek will both proceed to go to the Academy. Whoever wins the fight will be chosen boss and the loser will be killed. If any of you choose to give up the title of boss before the fight, your fate will be chosen by the remaining fighter. You will able to use the help of your eight Keepers during the fight. If, for any reason, you do not have your eight keepers, you will be at a disadvantage that will not be deemed unfair by the Hitmen. If any of the contestants die under suspicious circumstance before the fight, the title of boss will be given to Roxanne Smith, regardless of the decision of the bracelet and the guilty party will be killed. This fight will take place exactly three months from now on May 13th. We have spoken.” Both Kleilan and Melin stood up at the same time and left the room in complete silence. Angel glanced at Alphonse. What was a Keeper? What were the Hitmen? Why did he have to go to an Academy?

“Alphonse—.”

“Tomorrow, Angel,” Alphonse said. “I will explain everything tomorrow. You should go to sleep now.” He stood up and took the bracelet before walking out of the room.

“Sleep well, cousin,” Derek hissed as he walked out of the door. Angel stared after him.

“Mom, uncle Alphonse took my bracelet!” Roxanne complained in the background.