Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“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.
Hildebrand clears his throat. Jericho and I exchange a glance. I reach for the wine and pour for my brother and myself wishing it was whiskey.
“What I’m saying is this is not the way we do things,” Hildebrand continues. “There are proper channels to follow, customs to be obeyed.”
“Of course. Of course.” Girard focuses on eating, nodding his head, considering. “I appreciate custom when appropriate.”
“Once Montrose and I have reviewed the files, correct action will be taken. Remember that this was Tribunal business of the Boston chapter. This is all new to me.”
“I know you were not involved in the verdict that led to my judicial amputation. I believe that’s what he called it then. My old friend made sure the evidence he brought forth would be damning, irrefutably so. For my part, I was unsuspecting and unprepared. Never again. You, and your counterparts in Boston, are safe from me. However, correct action will be taken, and it will be taken tonight with or without your blessing, Councilor,” Girard says as he takes his time finishing his plate. When he’s done, he scans our faces, his gaze settling on me.
“Did you know, Ezekiel, of the evidence The Tribunal collects about its members?”
I shift my gaze to Hildebrand, then to Girard. “I have learned, and I suppose I’m not surprised.”
Hildebrand clenches his jaw. He’s neither above nor is he sorry for the collection of information about members of IVI that, if necessary, could prove useful. But he’s not unique in this. Not in our circles.
“The files I included in that email were incomplete,” Girard continues. “I reserved some. Yours included Ezekiel. If you think about it, what you did and what I will do aren’t so different. You punished one who deserved punishment.” He turns to Hildebrand. “There are more files. Files that will not show The Tribunal in a positive light, Councilor. I’m sure you’ll want to avoid all of that unnecessary…” here he gestures with his handless arm like he’s trying to think of the word. “Sullying of things. It's a simple matter. The push of a single button can either execute the mass sharing of said files or the destruction of them, am I right, Trea?” he asks of the man standing by the television. “A single button?”
“Yes, sir, you are.”
“I only have to give the word. There is an order you’ve kept, Councilor, and I’m not opposed to things continuing as they have been. In fact, your life need not be interrupted more than it already has. I do so dislike upheaval. But I suppose that’s up to you. You’ll need to make a choice.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin and stands. He faces us. “The sentence I have rendered upon Councilor Augustus will be carried out within the hour. You, Councilor, will choose how that message is delivered. Do the good members of The Society see the great Tribunal overruled for the first time ever? And what happens if that is the case? What power remains for you? What credibility when the rest of those files are released? It is up to you, Councilor.”