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Inside, several soldiers stand like statues. The television is on but muted and the video he blasted to every member of The Society plays on the giant screen. I watch the number of times it’s been viewed climb by leaps and bounds. An innocuous looking man I don’t recognize is manning the laptop sending the information to the big screen. The doors to the patio are open and we’re led toward it.
I look around for Blue, but she’s not here. He must be keeping her in one of the rooms. If she gave him the flash drive, and according to Dex, she did, reason would lead me to believe he wouldn’t hurt her. Although a glimpse at the face of the version of Antoine Girard on the screen reminds me how unhinged he is. How unreasonable.
We step outside onto the patio where Girard is standing beside that block. He sees us and claps his hands with excitement.
“Gentlemen!”
Councilor Hildebrand, the man he was talking to, turns and they face us. Hildebrand looks like he’s sucking on a lemon. I can imagine his brain working on damage control but there’s no controlling this shit show.
“Our party has grown! I am so glad you could make it. You are most welcome.”
He gestures to the chairs being arranged in rows all around the dais where the block is positioned. Who is he expecting to show up? Several men are setting up lighting and cameras to record the session. To stream it live.
“Where’s Blue?” I ask as soon as we reach Girard.
“Blue. She has managed to keep her naivete in all of this. It is commendable.”
“She is inherently good. Where is she?”
“Do you mean I am inherently wicked, then? On any other day I might take offense,” Girard says, coming to wrap the arm with the missing hand over my shoulder. “But today, nothing can bring me down. Is that how the song goes? It is a day decades in the making.”
“Where is she, Girard?” I shove his arm off.
“She is safe. Not to worry. She called me, remember. I only did as she wished.”
“As she wished?” I glance at the block pointedly. “I doubt that.”
“Ines is simply dressing her. Speaking of,” he continues, stepping backward and looking us over. “Does no one understand appropriate dress anymore? What happened to the good old days, huh Councilor?” he asks then sighs dramatically. “Never mind. I will provide you with what you need.”
“I want her. Now, Girard.”
“You do not make demands in my home.”
“This isn’t your home.”
He shrugs a shoulder like that doesn’t matter. “You’ll have her back when I’m finished. She’ll attend tonight’s ceremony, as will you and your brother. I’ll try to seat you side-by-side, but I make no promises.”
I catch Hildebrand’s gaze. He appears calm but he’s not. No way.
“Antoine. Let us talk,” Hildebrand says.
“Yes, Councilor. Let us talk indeed.” He looks up at the sky. Light is fading, day turning to night. It will be a clear one. He checks his watch, then walks back into the house and we follow. We all take a seat at the large dining room table where food has been laid out and bottles of wine stand open. “Oh good. I’m famished. Gentlemen, help yourselves.”
Apart from Hildebrand helping himself to wine we decline.
“What are you doing, Antoine?” Hildebrand asks Girard.
Girard points and a man heaps his plate with meats and cheese, bread and olives. He pours him a generous glass of red wine and Antoine drinks, then begins to eat.
“There is precious little I can do without assistance, but I’ve grown used to things. Adapted. As you can see. To adapt is the way of the victor.”
“You were brought before The Tribunal. Evidence was presented?—”
“Falsified evidence.”
Hildebrand nods gravely. “The evidence you’ve brought forward will be investigated. Justice will be served. Restitution, where it is due, will be paid.”
“Do you think I need money?” Girard exclaims, slamming his fist onto the table, making everything rattle.
