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I shift my gaze to his hazel eyes and a flash of the photo I’d seen of him in his youth comes to mind. He’d been laughing. There had been joy in his eyes then. I don’t want to feel sorry for this man, he’s ruthless. Possibly as ruthless as the Councilor. The Hoxton brothers should be enough evidence of that. But there’s a part of me that does feel his pain to some extent. Maybe it’s for all he lost. Maybe it’s because I saw Councilor Augustus, the man who sentenced him to his archaic punishment, in his domestic brutality.
“No,” I finally say.
“Well, get your fill.”
“I don’t need to.” I turn away. “I’m sorry I stared. I didn’t mean to.”
“I’m not sure what was worse, the actual pain when the ax came down or the knowledge of what was coming. How quickly it was coming.”
I turn to him again. He’s not quite looking at me though. All I can think is how human he sounds in this moment. How vulnerable.
“I’d just watched Ines being branded. They’d had to hold me back when he did it. When she and I both knew what he’d do to her. And when she screamed, Christ.” He shakes his head. “I’ll never forget it.” He pauses as if hearing her again now. “They were ready for me. He’d planned it all. And over her screams I swear I heard it, the sizzling of skin. Did you know you can hear that? I mean, it’s meat after all.”
Nausea turns my stomach at the thought of all of that.
“He must have been planning it for years.” His pupils focus on me again. “Loverboy tell you much about The Society?”
“A little. I don’t want to know more. It sounds awful.”
“It’s not, but some people are I suppose. Like anywhere. Now, The Tribunal, that’s one place you never want to end up. Their methods are Medieval. Whippings. Brandings. Dismemberment. Execution in rare cases.”
“Can they do that? I mean, they’re not above the law.”
He snorts at that. “Theyarethe law. You have no idea how many men of power in your world are members of The Society. The Councilors, The Tribunal, they can do whatever the hell they please. Ever been to London?”
It’s a strange, abrupt jump of topics and I shake my head.
“Well, the block is on display at the Tower Museum. Did you know that?”
“I didn’t.”
“You should see it.”
“No thanks.” I turn away.
“A replica was made for The Tribunal during the 100thanniversary commemorating the birth of IVI. It’s displayed prominently in the gardens at the Boston chapter. Well, prominently maybe isn’t the right word. Anyone brought to stand before the judges sees it prominently. Nothing like a chopping block to instill terror, huh?” He laughs. I don’t. “Anyway, they’ve never used it for heads. Just a few hands. I can tell you the fear you feel is a whole other fear than anything else when you’re being dragged out there, when you know there is no escaping your fate, however unfair. That’s pretty awful. Until the ax comes down.” An extended silence follows before he turns to me. “Which do you think would be worse?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Well, aren’t you lucky?” I don’t answer but he’s not really expecting me to. I’m not even sure why we’re having this conversation. “Councilor Augustus stole my entire life that day. I intend to steal his tonight.”
We turn onto the Councilor’s property. I notice the other SUVs aren’t with us, only the one we’re riding in and one other.
“Where are the others?” I ask.
“It would be rude to bring an army. That will come later.”
“If he sees me,” I start, glancing at the house I left only too recently.
“You’re under my protection. As long as this contains what you say it contains, that is.” He holds up the flash drive. “If it doesn’t, well, you may want to run to the Councilor to beg his protection.”
“It does. It has all the files. And I’d never go to that monster for anything.”
He makes a surprise expression then nods approvingly. When we come to the smaller guest house, the soldiers sitting in the front seats climb out to open our doors. I notice the coda inked into the neck of one and the back of the other’s hand. I glance over my shoulder at the main house. The guest house is visible from there and when Antoine sees me looking, he gives a little wave.
“What are you doing?” I ask, turning my face away.
“Saying hello to my host. I’m sure he’s watching.”
