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“Councilor Hildebrand,” Antoine says to the man. “I was hoping you’d come.” A nudge from a soldier urges me toward the waiting van. “I assume it is to bless this occasion,” Antoine continues. “You’ll have a front row seat, of course.”
27
EZEKIEL
Aline of immaculately clean black vans with darkly tinted windows lines the side of the road leading to the Councilor’s house. I note the nearly matching license plates, each just one digit off the last.
The gates of the estate are swinging closed when I hit the gas and propel the car forward, the screeching of metal against metal grating. But a new paint job is hardly my concern right now.
“Christ, take it easy,” Jericho says, one hand on the dash.
“I can’t fucking count the number of soldiers. It’s a fucking army,” I say.
A dozen men leap out of the way as we veer off the drive, which is blocked by parked vans, my SUV jumping onto the grass. I bypass the main house and don’t slow down as we near the guest house.
“They all have codas inked on their necks and the backs of their hands,” Jericho says.
Two of the vans ahead of us lurch forward to block our path. I scrape one as I swerve to go around them but then there are two more as well as soldiers with weapons drawn aiming at us. I hit the brakes, the SUV coming to a stop inches from a soldier pointing his gun at my head, a soldier who doesn’t jump out of the way or show any fear.
“Christ. They’re like the fucking Stepford wives.” I put the vehicle into park and, never taking my eyes off the men walking toward our vehicle, I reach to unlock the compartment that holds my revolver.
“Don’t be stupid,” Jericho says, placing his revolver on the dashboard. He’s right. I’m sure first thing they’ll do is search us. I shut the compartment door, and the lock reengages.
Our doors are pulled open to the sound of too many men cocking their guns, circling us.
“Out of the vehicle! Hands up!” One yells, his big paw gripping my shirt to haul me out before I have a chance to react. He slams me against the car. My brother meets with the same treatment and we’re both searched.
“I want to see Girard. Tell him the St. James brothers are here.”
In response, the man behind me presses his revolver to the back of my head and cocks it.
“Mr. Girard is busy.”
“Tell him it’s Ezekiel St. James. He’ll want to see me.”
“Like I said, he’s busy.”
“We’re here for the show.”
At that he stops, and I glance back to see him thinking.
“Tell him it’s the St. James brothers here to watch the Councilor get his due. I’m telling you he knows us.”
He turns to one of the men, gestures for him to go to the house. Jericho is brought around to stand beside me. He breathes a tight breath in and gives me a dark look. We are so completely outnumbered. But Blue is inside. And I’m not leaving without her.
The man returns a few minutes later and nods. “Take them in.”
“I told you,” I say to the soldier who had his gun at the back of my head.
He jerks me forward and two of them follow us as we head to the house.
“Zeke,” Jericho says, gesturing with a nod to the patio at the Councilor’s house where we’d sat just two days ago. Was it only two days? It feels like I’ve lived an eternity in this time.
The patio furniture has been shoved aside and a fire blazes in a brazier. Maybe two dozen of Girard’s men stand sentry. I know because they seem to have a uniform of the same suit and those codas are fucking everywhere. One of them stands at the fire holding what I can see from here is a branding iron. I wouldn’t know it if I wasn’t Society perhaps, but this is my world. Six men kneel, hands bound behind their backs. The Councilor’s men, I presume. Each of them has a soldier at his back and when the man holding the iron approaches the first, that soldier grips the head of the kneeling man. I turn away only when I see the red-hot iron pressed into the forehead of the kneeling man. I hear his scream and I’m not sure if I imagine the sound of skin sizzling or if it’s real.
“Fuck,” Jericho mutters as the man at his back shoves him forward.
When we reach the guest house, I see a Rolls Royce parked outside with a very anxious looking driver sitting inside it. I recognize the driver to be Hildebrand’s man and glance at my brother as we ascend the stairs to the guest house.
