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“It is my great honour to open tonight’s caucus with welcome news. The Redeemer threat is gone.” Mason waited for the excitement around the table to die a natural death before he continued. “With the assistance of the Moss family, my father and I identified the last of their numbers and have since ensured they will never be a threat to you or your families again.”
I shook my ghosted head. The Redeemers might never be a threat again, but if Mason didn’t succeed in his attempts to go public, another group would take the Redeemers’ place. And that group would be even more ruthless, having learned from the Redeemers. I couldn’t help but think Mason was squandering a tremendous opportunity to introduce the idea of some form of democratic representation for all Fliers to quell another uprising.
Mason turned a sympathetic eye to Edward Kosikov. “They took your wife.” He looked at Dillon. “They took your cousin, one of our own, and they tried to take another.” Mason glanced at Ron Evans. “They robbed me of my mother, my father of his wife of forty years, and took many others. Though it is cold comfort to those of us who suffered at their hands, we can find solace in the fact that they paid for their treason. Our loved ones’ deaths have been avenged. Your families can come out of hiding.”
Excited chatter broke out once more, and even the Ghosts in the room contributed to the volume. At the far end of the table, Lillian stood. The voices receded. “An auspicious beginning to your leadership, Mason. Well done. You have our clan’s gratitude.”
The room filled with voices adding weight to Lillian’s sentiment. Mason tipped his head, accepting the praise.
After Lillian sat down and the voices receded again, Mason continued. “The news is not as good with regard to International Covert Operations. As you are aware, ICO broke their contract with us and overstepped any possible interpretation of good faith when they abducted the two Fliers whose services we offered them. Sebastian Kirk called upon many of you to assist in his effort to eradicate them. Unfortunately, one of the signatories to ICO’s contract, Canada’s General Cain, escaped the cull.”
Murmurs of alarm spiked. Mason raised his hands to quiet them. “Sebastian assures me he has a plan in place to find Cain and finish the job. And on a positive note, all data ICO collected about us has been removed from their computers, files and databases.”
The murmurs started up again. Ron Evans didn’t engage. Instead, he directed a question to Sebastian. “Overlooking the fact that we were not apprised of the missing general, what is this plan of yours?” All attention swivelled to Sebastian’s end of the table.
Sebastian’s smile suggested superiority. “We have wiped out Cain’s support system. Without funds and tech support, he can only hide for so long. We’ve put in place a net to catch him when he surfaces.”
“A net?”
Again Sebastian smiled at Ron as if indulging a precocious child. “We’ve put tracers on everyone he might contact when he gets tired of hiding. The moment he surfaces, we’ll know his coordinates.”
Sebastian then addressed the entire table. “The ICO agents who knew about us were eliminated swiftly. As you know, this operation spanned two countries and infiltrated the highest levels of their governments. It was no easy task. Cain’s escape is well within the expected margin of error for such a complex operation and is but a temporary situation, I can assure you.”
Ron kept up the pressure. “We know that when our representatives were held captive at Vector Labs, ICO learned that Ghosts could be detained in airtight spaces. Did your people find and destroy that specific intelligence?”
Sebastian raised his voice over the ensuing whispers. “Yes. ICO operates on a cell mentality—only the cell tasked with interacting with our two representatives knew about us. The data they collected was compartmentalized. We successfully located and destroyed it. However, as anyone in the intelligence community will tell you, when you’re dealing with human beings, there are no guarantees; no absolutes.”
Ivy spoke up. “Enough sidestepping, Sebastian. What are you saying? Spell it out.” God bless her lack of social finesse.
Sebastian tried his best to hide a scowl. “Our grievous exposure at Cairabrae left us no choice—we had to engage with ICO or risk far greater damage. You were all aware that our contract with ICO could further expose us. We took that risk and lost: ICO betrayed us. With your help, my team cleaned up the mess. But there is no way to definitively plug all potential leaks. I’m speaking of the low-level file clerk who talks to her Friday beer buddies about the report she filed, or her beer buddy who tells his brother. My team did an outstanding job. Human skepticism will negate any unforeseeable leaks.”
“How fortunate for us that our government is still afraid of being painted with a paranormal brush,” Albert said, shoring up Sebastian’s position.
Sebastian nodded. “Public opinion is a powerful influence working to our advantage.”
In the silence that ensued, I had to congratulate Sebastian. He’d checked off all the contentious issues while simultaneously patting himself on the back and blaming the entire ordeal on our grievous exposure, as if he’d had nothing to do with it. We wouldn’t have been exposed at all if Sebastian hadn’t insisted on an ill-timed and frivolous cocktail party at Cairabrae. And for what? To satisfy the Tribunal elite’s curiosity about the woman Jolene gifted? It always came back to me.
When would it end? The Tribunal had tracked down and killed every Redeemer without once considering, let alone addressing, the underlying irritant that had spawned them. Now they’d all but eliminated an entire elite government cell. Would going public have saved those lives? How would my covey in Vancouver feel about the deaths racked up on their behalf?
“Are there any further questions before we move forward?” Mason asked.
When the grumbling around the table subsided, Mason took control and finally began laying the groundwork for his raison d’être.
“We have another enemy at our gates,” he started. “An intelligent force that constantly adapts and grows more powerful with every passing day. If you will indulge me for a moment, a demonstration will make my point far more effectively than words.”
Mason stood and walked a slow circuit around the table. “Most of us use vertical laser sensors to monitor the perimeters of our properties. We set those sensors to identify trespassing heat signatures large enough to pose a threat. Larger than a raven, for example, or an eagle.”
The unmistakable buzz of a drone grew louder as it approached from the portal end of the chamber. Heads around the table swivelled to search out the source. A white drone with four rotors circled the room before landing nimbly in the centre of the table. Its rotors continued to spin.
Mason spoke above the buzz. “But our laser sensors will not detect something the size of this drone. Further, this drone can be operated from five miles away, and it houses a powerful camera with telephoto and infrared capabilities. That camera can send high-definition live digital feedback to its operator, night or day.”
Ivy tsked. “Drones may cause an interim disruption, but already governments are severely curtailing and limiting their use. The novelty will wear off, just like it did with those remote-controlled toys we were all so worried about a few years ago.” She let out a derisive snort. “Before that, it was surveillance cameras that caused a stir. Turned out to be a non-issue. Even traffic cameras are focused on activity on the ground, not in the air.”
“I might add,” Albert said, “that drones communicate with their operators over a radio frequency. A simple RF jammer will take care of that.” He pointed to the offending drone.
“You’re right, Albert,” Mason said. “But this drone is no toy and it’s not operating on RF. The GPS coordinates of this room were programmed into it. An RF jammer wouldn’t have stopped it.”
“Even so,” Sebastian said, “there’s no mistaking the sound a drone makes. We can adapt our sensors to pick up a range of their sound signatures. As Ivy said, drones are an interim disruption.”
The drone’s rotors abruptly stopped. At the same time, two large projection screens began unfurling from the ceiling. When they were fully extended, everyone in the room could see one of them.
“It’s hard to argue with Sebastian’s point,” Mason said. “Drones do emit a distinctive sound.” Mason now stood behind his chair. He looked to the screens as they lit up with identical footage. I recognized the very table at which the Tribunal sat, filmed from a distance. As the distance grew shorter, I could tell that whatever had taken the video we were watching was airborne and had approached from the same direction the drone had. It had circled the entire room. But the footage wasn’t live; it had been recorded when Mason had been seated. When the caucus had begun. Before the white drone occupied the centre of the table, as it did now. Confusion flitted across the faces of those seated.
Mason held out his hand, palm up, drawing everyone’s attention. A bug the size of a grape floated in an erratic diagonal line from the iron chandelier above the table to rest in Mason’s hand. It could have been mistaken for a moth.
“But what about this drone?” Mason said. “Did you hear it enter this chamber earlier to film our proceedings?” The drone took off again and fluttered around the table. I felt a pinch of pride knowing James was the one behind the scenes pulling the strings.
“This particular drone resembles a moth, but it could just as easily look like a mouse, a dragonfly or a cockroach,” Mason said. “The technology is cutting edge and not widely available, but it will be.
“What is, however, widely available are these.” Mason pulled out his phone. “There is more computer power in this cellphone than there was on the first spaceship to the moon. How many of you own one?” Heads bobbed around the table. “Indulge me, if you would.” Mason stepped around his chair and laid his phone on the table. “Set your phones on the table before you.” Phones appeared from pockets and were dutifully laid on the table.
“Sixty-five percent of Americans own a smartphone, and that number is increasing daily. Each one is equipped with a digital camera capable of taking high-resolution photos and video at the press of a button. Just as quickly, those photos and videos can be shared around the world on dozens of social media sites, blogs or news networks.” Mason gazed around the table. “How long do you think it will be before someone films a Flier in action and posts it on social media?”
“Cellphone technology is not a new threat,” Albert said. “Cellphone cameras have been around since the early 2000s. Smartphones since at least 2007. It’s not been a problem.”
“I agree,” Mason said. “Up until now. Bear with me a moment longer. How many of you have photos on your phones of your kids’ first flights? Perhaps your grandkids’? Or that time you took the perfect shot of a loved one mid-air? A selfie over a landmark? You think those photos are safe because they’re locked behind a password, maybe fingerprint technology or face recognition software. But what if all of your protections aren’t enough?”
Again our attention was drawn to the big screens. This time, photographs floated across them. Those at the table began recognizing the faces in the photos. Some reached for their phones and tried turning them off. A couple of people quickly removed their phones’ batteries. But the damage had been done. The photos kept scrolling by. Most were benign: shopping lists, pet antics, laughing friends and shared meals. But some were the type Mason had warned of: Fliers mid-air.
The photos faded away. “The technology that so easily accesses your phone’s photos can also access your phone’s camera and mic.” A number of phones on the table began playing back an overlapping chorus of Mason’s words. “Up to now . . . Bear with me . . . Up to now . . . Bear with me . . .” The hanging screens lit up again, this time with video selfies of those who’d picked up their phones in a vain attempt to turn them off. Mason’s words and the videos played on a loop.
Edward shoved his chair back and stood. Anger coloured his cheeks red. “This is a gross invasion of our privacy. Stop it at once.”
The screens darkened immediately and the voice playbacks faded.
“I agree with you, Edward. It is a gross invasion of privacy, but it’s one each of you willingly facilitated.” Grunts of denial flared but Mason beat them down. He stepped away from his chair and began another slow circuit around the table. “When you arrived this evening, you were each asked by the guards to show your email invitation. To do that you had to open an attachment on your cellphones. That attachment unleashed the spyware that allowed us to control your phones. If this was a real attack, the perpetrator would now have all your contacts, all your photos, all the GPS data identifying the places you frequent—and you wouldn’t even know it. If they infect your home computers, they will have the ability to turn on the computer’s cameras anytime they choose to spy on you. They can turn on the computer’s mic to listen to and record your conversations. Again, you would never know it.”
Edward retook his seat, and Mason paused for effect. “Technology is the enemy at our gate. It is no longer a matter of if one of our kind is exposed. It’s a matter of when, and that time is fast approaching.”
“Hold on a second,” Albert said. “As disconcerting as this demonstration has been, you had us at a disadvantage. We trusted the security you had set up. Otherwise, we wouldn’t so easily have fallen for opening an email attachment. After all, every virus-protection program warns about opening attachments. In fact, the software we all use will immediately identify spyware and quarantine it.”
“And yet your virus protection did none of that tonight,” Mason said. He took a heavy breath, and I could feel his exasperation. It seemed no matter what Mason put forward, no matter how compelling his demonstration, some of them were hell-bent on ramming their heads back into the sand. Their stubborn refusal to acknowledge the danger technology presented was almost comical.
“Spare us the suspense, Mason,” Sebastian said. “What is the purpose of this little demonstration of yours?”
Mason again paused. “I’ll repeat what I stated earlier. It’s only a matter of time before our existence is discovered. It already happened once, at Cairabrae, and we were not ready. That’s how ICO got a foothold. The technology I’ve demonstrated today isn’t going away; it’s getting better.” Mason returned to his seat at the head of the table. He settled his back against the chair, and let his hands dangle off the ends of the armrests. He gazed confidently around at the seated members. “What I’m proposing is that we plan for our inevitable exposure, and let it unfold at a time and in a manner of our choosing.”
Alarmed voices rose like geysers. Sebastian scowled down the table at Mason. “Have you forgotten the pledge you took tonight? In front of all of us? You swore allegiance to the Tribunal Novem and the laws we hold sacred. Maintaining the secret of the gift is the one law we hold sacred above all others. If you are not prepared to uphold that law, then perhaps you are not fit to lead us.”
“My allegiance to this body remains absolute,” Mason replied. “But real leadership doesn’t wear blinders or handcuffs. That law was put in place in a time when technology wasn’t a threat. The purpose of that law was to protect us. Secrecy is no longer an effective means to that end. We need to think boldly and find a new way to protect ourselves.”
“Are you proposing that we make a public declaration of our existence?” Lillian asked.
“I’m asking each one of you to consider the implications of going public. We ignore technology at our peril. Consider the damage another uncontrolled exposure presents. Think about what our lives might look like without the burden of this secret.”
Albert spoke next. “I think you’ve lost your mind, Mason. Governments will never allow Ghosts to roam free. Our capabilities pose too big a threat to their security, their sovereignty.”
Mason paused long enough that I grew concerned he hadn’t anticipated this roadblock. He slowly drew his eyebrows together in an expression of profound bafflement. After a long delay, he spoke. “It seems I haven’t made myself clear. I apologize. The ability to shed gravity and take flight is what I’m suggesting we make public. Exposing Ghosts is not on the table.”
I gasped, but it was relief that sounded around the room. Shoulders relaxed and the low rumble of disapproval lightened to twitters. Apparently, Mason was more than prepared for this roadblock. I thought back to every conversation I’d ever had with Mason or Stuart about going public. Not once had either of them specified flight as the sole element slated for public exposure. Had I misunderstood their intent all along?
As I studied Mason, I felt a stab of his duplicity. Faced with a death sentence, even the innocent would be tempted to accept a lighter penalty. Is that what Mason had set up? Threaten to expose everyone and then offer a safety valve available only to Ghosts?
“Contrary to the Pollyanna version of an unveiling Mason suggests,” Ivy said, “going public would be the end of this Tribunal. Every damn Flier who’s ever had a grievance with us will seek remedy in the courts, and I don’t need to remind anyone here that the non-Gifted don’t share our version of justice, not even close. We’d be crucified.”
“Only a handful of Fliers outside of our own ghosting circles know the names of those of us on this Tribunal,” Mason countered. “The phone numbers that we provide to the coveys can’t be traced back to us, so no one’s going to be crucified.”
What the hell was Mason doing? First he gives Ghosts an out and now the Tribunal?
“Perhaps,” Albert said, “but regardless, Ivy’s brought up an interesting point—or perhaps I should say an opportunity. Let me be clear, I do not support Mason’s idea, but if he’s right about this technology and our secret is exposed, we should be prepared to take advantage of it. Disgruntled Fliers may or may not be able to name us, but if they can and they seek remedy in the courts, they will self-identify. We can then make quick work of eliminating them.”
My heart sank. I fought against a rising wave of panic.
“Albert is right,” Sebastian said. “If Mason’s prediction about technology is correct, the secret we’ve spent centuries protecting may be made public. But Ghosts won’t be. The ghosting gene is shared by few and well hidden. Threat of our exposure is low. If the Tribunal doesn’t have to waste its time and energy protecting the secrecy of the gift, we could concentrate our efforts on ferreting out Fliers who have a grievance with us or even know about us. Let the courts deal with Fliers’ petty complaints.”
“In fact,” Albert said, “if the secret of the gift is made public, governments may do some of our work for us. They’ll most certainly want to compile a database of names, which would be useful.”
Ivy huffed. “That will happen as soon as one of the idiots demonstrates the power of a jolt. No government will let that weapon go unmonitored. They may even develop a method of controlling it.”
“This idea of yours might have some merit after all,” Sebastian said.
Albert nodded and pinched his chin.
My panic tipped into seething anger. Mason’s plan wouldn’t eliminate the Tribunal, it would make it stronger. And after they’d killed off all dissenters and had a list of names, they’d probably help the governments develop a method for controlling jolts, our only means of defence. With the Flier population hobbled, there would be no stopping the Tribunal, and now I had to wonder if they’d ever had Fliers’ interests at heart.
Were they so blinded they didn’t see that we were all Fliers? Was this how they’d want to be treated? I ached to shout out that their names would be on that government list, I’d make sure of it, but self-preservation silenced me. My faith in Mason now felt shockingly naive.
Mason shifted forward and rested his forearms on the table. “I am not calling a vote on this item tonight.” He glanced around the table. For the most part, the faces that looked back were contemplative, accepting even. “This demonstration was intended to spark a conversation, which I’m confident it has done. But be forewarned. It will be on the agenda next time we meet, and at that time, I will call a vote. Meantime, I suggest you continue this conversation with your friends and families. My door is open to your thoughts and questions.”
Mason checked his watch. “Thank you for your patience. I have kept you longer than I intended. There is just one outstanding item to address before we join our families at the reception.”
The empty seat at the Tribunal’s table was the one item left to cross off Mason’s agenda. It taunted me from across the room. Take the seat and the Tribunal would own a piece of my freedom. Walk away from it and the Tribunal grew more powerful.
How would I feel if my friends’ names ended up on a witch-hunter’s list and subject to who knows what form of control? I thought about Avery and Victoria, Eden and Alex, and everyone else in my covey. They were mothers and fathers, daughters and sons, children and grandparents. They were hardworking, down-to-earth Fliers who saved for retirement and paid mortgages. And they had no one to look out for them around this table of arrogant elitists and no hope that it would ever change.
Mason spoke but I’d stopped listening. I drifted up and over the table and approached the empty chair. If I walked away, I was no better than the others at the table. My heart felt as if it were pounding to get free of my chest. My thoughts raced. Would James understand? Would my mother? I’d come here tonight to free myself from the Tribunal, but my conscience wouldn’t let me. Change would never come from outside the Tribunal. The only chance to influence this fucking archaic body was to fight it from within. If that meant giving up a piece of my freedom for a while, surely it was a small price to pay, and nothing compared to what my covey—my friends—would pay if the Tribunal continued on the path Mason envisioned. I couldn’t leave my friends to that fate.
I re-formed behind the seat. Mason stopped talking midsentence. Silence stole the air from the room. I circled the chair and sat down.
“My dear,” Sebastian said, offering me a sympathetic smile. “I’m afraid it’s too late. We were just—”
I looked him face-on. “I accept your offer. I’m claiming the seat.”
“But—”
Mason cut Sebastian off. “The motion to withdraw the seat was not, in fact, complete, Sebastian, before Ms. Taylor accepted our offer.”
Albert leapt to his feet. “This is preposterous! What does she know about Tribunal business? She was gifted, for god’s sake. And how are we going to come to definitive decisions without a tie-breaking vote? We are the Tribunal Novem. Nine, not ten.”
“I agree!” Sebastian said. “This offer was not well thought out. It was an overreaction. I move that we strike the offer and end this insanity.”
The room exploded with angry voices. Mason stood, effectively silencing the room. He then turned on Sebastian. “You forget yourself. I lead this body, not you. You do not have the power to strike items off my agenda. The seat we offered merely needed to be accepted, and it has been.”
Mason turned his attention to the others at the table. “Perhaps you have all forgotten what this gifted woman did for you. At great mortal risk, she engaged Carson Manse in a fight for all of our lives. She alone put an end to him. This gifted Flier recovered each and every one of your crystals—intact. Your offer to her was not an overreaction. It was the least you could do to express gratitude for your lives. Our gratitude. A minor adjustment to fix the tie-breaking vote issue is hardly an excuse to withdraw our offer.”
Rachael Warner spoke for the first time that evening. “I agree. Our family, for one, has not forgotten Emelynn’s contribution. We thank you, Emelynn, and welcome. I look forward to working with you.”
Ron Evans spoke next. “Hear! Hear! My family is also grateful. Welcome to the Tribunal, Emelynn.”
Sebastian remained stone-faced, as did Albert and Ivy. Edward and Lillian were hard to read. They were either horrified or on the fence. Dillon hedged his bets, spreading smiles all around the table.
“Emelynn . . .” Mason started. “I’m embarrassed to say I don’t know your middle name.”
“Morgan.”
Mason lifted the sceptre from the table. I pushed my chair back and stood.
Emelynn Morgan Taylor, you have been granted one vote at this table. Are you prepared to discharge your duty?”
“Aye,” I said.
“Emelynn Morgan Taylor, call your family.”
I was at a loss. I couldn’t call Stuart—he’d already sworn allegiance to Mason. Calling Mason seemed grossly inappropriate given his role, and I’d never put James in that position.
“Bloody farce,” Edward whispered under his breath. “She has no real family to call.”
I straightened. “I call my Vancouver covey. I’d ask them to show themselves but they are not Ghosts and therefore not present.”
Mason reached for the sceptre. “Fair enough. You will represent your absent covey. Present yourself.”
I held on to my defiance and strode to stand before Mason.
“Emelynn Morgan Taylor, do you swear allegiance to the Tribunal Novem and the laws we hold sacred?”
I went down on one knee. “I do.” Mason held the sceptre out to me. Though doing so repulsed me, I kissed it, just as the others had done.
“Do you swear your fealty to me?”
I couldn’t believe I was participating in this archaic crap. “I do,” I said, and kissed the back of his offered hand.
Mason turned his hand over to help me up. I took it with a glare he ignored. He dipped his head. “Welcome to the Tribunal, Emelynn.”
Mason then addressed the table. “Within the month, I will present a proposal to address the tie-breaking vote issue. If you have suggestions you wish me to consider, send them along. Thank you for your time this evening. The reception awaits. This caucus is adjourned.”
I felt the eyes of the room on me as those around the table vacated their seats and began to disperse. Mason turned to me and reached an arm around my shoulders. He tried to pull me close, but I crooked my elbow and pushed against his chest. I wouldn’t embarrass him in this crowd, but I’d be damned if I’d let him think I was happy with him. He leaned in and spoke low into my ear. “Don’t be angry. You’ve made me so proud. We’ll talk tonight.”
Mason released me and was soon swamped by people wanting to shake his hand. I turned away with escape on my mind but found Rachael and her husband, Marc, waiting. I accepted their well wishes, thanked her for her support and tried again to break away.
This time Stuart blocked my path. He’d read my body language better than Mason and kept his distance. “You made the right decision, Emelynn.”
I balled my hands into fists. “I’m glad you think so. I doubt James will share your opinion.” I walked away from him, but Ron and Gordon caught up to me. Gordon still wore his cloak.
“Where are you sneaking off to?” Ron asked. He wore a wide grin that ruined his tough-guy facade.
I stopped in my tracks. “This is all just a little overwhelming.”
“To be expected your first time. You’ll get used to it.”
“Which part?” I asked. Gordon chuckled and Ron elbowed him in the ribs.
“Only the ritual, I’m afraid. The egos you’ll never get used to.”
He seemed so normal. They both did. I felt myself relax a bit. “I can’t believe I broke your nose. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Gordon said. “He needed a dose of humility.”
Ron edged his brother out of the way. “How about you let us escort you to the reception and buy you a drink?”
“I’m not going to the reception.”
“Oh, but you must,” Gordon said. “You’ll be the talk of the room.”
“Exactly,” I said.
Ron stepped in front of me, blocking my view with his thick neck and broad shoulders. I looked up. “Don’t run, Emelynn. You’ll never beat them like that. Walk in there with your head held high. You earned your place at the table. That’s a lot more than I can say for the rest of us.”
His comment was most unexpected. I wavered. Maybe enduring thirty minutes of bullshit would put an end to some of the talk. Ron extended his elbow. I took it and we started for the portal.
Ghosts who’d been hanging back rushed past us. Those who’d re-formed nodded greetings. Some offered congratulations. I faked a smile, ducked my head and kept going.
We left the wine caves and headed for the glass-walled reception hall, which was lit up like a Chinese lantern. Gordon opened the door for us and we stepped inside. Classical music played. Gordon shrugged out of his cloak and handed it to a woman who already held an armful of them. He tugged the bottom of his white vest. Every man in the reception hall looked just like him. The women wore gowns in every colour imaginable. This was the formal affair Stuart had spoken of.
The only people in the room who weren’t dressed in white tie were the nine—no, ten—Tribunal members. We looked like party-crashing thugs. And yet, without exception, it was the black-clad oddballs who held the guests’ attention. Mason, in particular, looked swamped in an ocean of silk and chiffon. He didn’t appear to mind.
Sebastian was likewise swarmed, though his admirers coddled whereas Mason’s clung to him as if he were a rock star. Watching it nauseated me.
I looked back to the woman with the cloaks and realized what Mason had done. I hadn’t had to wear black tonight. I could have worn a gown and covered it with a cloak like the others in that chamber. But Mason had set it up so I’d look the part when the time came. Indeed, we would talk tonight.
Furtive glances and whispers trailed us as Ron and I strolled the perimeter of the reception hall. Gordon snagged three champagne flutes. I searched the room for James but didn’t see him. Ron stopped to acknowledge some people he knew. He introduced me by name, but they already knew it—a scenario repeated with regularity around the room. The whisper campaign spreading news from the caucus was well underway. Some of those who approached claimed to have met me at Cairabrae. They looked vaguely familiar, but I’d met a lot of people that night. I smiled my appreciation but didn’t remember half the people who wanted to shake my hand.
But there was one man I knew. He stood alone and stared at me from a distance. I met his gaze and faltered.
“You know him?” Ron asked.
“I thought I did once.” I changed direction and nearly bowled over a stout elderly man.
“Hey, Dad,” Gordon said to the man. They embraced, and then his father patted Ron’s shoulder and shook his hand. Ron introduced us.
The older man grasped my hand in both of his. His dark eyes twinkled from a boxer’s face. “My wife would like to meet you.”
At his urging, I followed him to a sitting area. His wife rose to greet us. “Finally, we meet,” she said, after introductions were made. “I must say, ever since Ronny showed up with two black eyes, I’ve wanted to meet you.”
Once again, I apologized, but that only made her laugh. “I hear you made quite a stir in there tonight.”
That she hadn’t seen it first-hand told me she wasn’t a Ghost. We chatted for another thirty seconds before I caught sight of Redmond’s figure cutting through the crowd. “Will you excuse me?” I said. “There’s someone I need to see.”
With their blessing, I moved off and caught up with Redmond. He turned when I called his name. “Redmond, have you seen James?”
From five feet away, his gaze zigzagged over my torso. “No.”
An elegant young woman in an ivory off-the-shoulder gown approached Redmond, unaware he’d been speaking to me. “There you are.” She kissed his cheek. Her chestnut-coloured hair was swept up in an elaborate twist. She looked much better than the last time I’d seen her. Redmond hooked an arm around her waist.
It was then that she noticed me. She looked from Redmond to me with apology. “I’m interrupting. Where are my manners? Please forgive me.”
Redmond straightened and tightened his grip on her waist, holding her back. “Sandy,” Redmond said, smiling stiffly. “This is Emelynn Taylor.”
She froze, and in that moment I sensed that she knew my shame. Alexandra Moss was Sandy to her father, Sandra to her brother. And wife to my first lover. A fact that my lover had neglected to share with me at the time.
Her smile remained fixed, but she’d lost her words. “I, ah . . .”
Her father came to her rescue. “It’s okay, honey. You probably don’t remember her.”
Sandra had been drugged to the point of oblivion the night I met her. I remembered thinking that even in that condition, she was beautiful. That was before I knew she was Jackson Delaney’s wife. Bad night all around.
After a few breaths, she recovered her voice. “You’re right. I don’t. I’m ... sorry. For what happened to you. I’m grateful. Thank you.”
“Looks like we both survived,” I said. She’d been held captive for months. Jackson had recruited my covey to rescue her, and I’d been shot during the ordeal. The wound hadn’t hurt nearly as much as learning that Jackson had used me.
James’s mother approached. Black-velvet appliqué adorned Diana’s blood-red gown, lending her petite frame a larger presence. If she’d come tonight to look her family’s tormentors in the eye, they’d not soon forget her.
“Diana,” I said. Sandra shot a quizzical glance at her mother. It seemed Sandra hadn’t known of my visit earlier in the day.
Sandra’s gaze returned to study me as her mother engaged me in social banter. I found it hard to concentrate on Diana’s words under Sandra’s scrutiny.
I knew the moment Sandra saw my earrings. She fixated on them just as Redmond had done the first time I met him. Diana had displayed the same behaviour earlier today. Such an odd reaction.
“You’re the woman James has been seeing,” Sandra said, interrupting her mother.
“Sandra, darling,” Diana said. Admonishment laced her words. She reached for her daughter. That’s when I saw the ring she wore on her left hand. It sparkled with the same grey-green stone as my earrings.
“Do you mind my asking?” I said to Diana, nodding at her hand. “What is that stone?”
She pulled her hand back but then didn’t quite know where to put it. She looked down at the stone in her wedding ring.
It was Redmond who answered. “It’s a moss diamond.”
Diamond? “Named for your family?”
“No,” he said, with a puzzled expression. “Named for its colour. I’m surprised James didn’t tell you.”
“It’s lovely,” I said.
“Green is the rarest colour of diamond on the planet,” Redmond said. “Our family’s taken a special interest in the ones identified as moss, for obvious reasons. It appears that James located two more.”
I raised a hand to an earlobe and finally understood the family’s reaction. In their eyes, James’s earrings marked me as one of them. When I’d imagined they were merely semi-precious crystals, two carats didn’t seem extravagant, but now I felt self-conscious at the display. Conspicuous. So unlike James. Then again, he’d always been a man of few words. The earrings spoke for him.
Did his family already know James had compounded his sins? Not only did he care for a Ghost, but that Ghost had just joined the Tribunal. Standing before them in the black attire that identified me as a Tribunal member must have been a test of the Moss family’s manners.
My clothes grew uncomfortably warm. I excused myself and went in search of James. When I couldn’t find him inside, I slipped out the door and started for the portal into the caves. I hadn’t made it ten paces when a figure stepped out from the gardens and into my path. I stopped and took a step back.
“Hello, Emelynn.”
It annoyed me that I still thought he was handsome. He wore his hair too long and his confidence like a badge. His pale hazel eyes searched my face and took in my attire.
“So it’s true. You are a Ghost.”
I glared at him. “You still married, Jackson?”
He lifted his chin. “I wanted to say hello is all. Wish you well. I’m not here to apologize. Again.”
“I’m not asking. I’ve forgiven you. I won’t forget you hurt me, but I’ve moved on.”
“Still seeing James?”
I shook my head and exhaled my annoyance in a huff. “Good night, Jackson.” My mind lit up with memories as I skirted around him and continued to the wine caves. I felt desperate now. I needed to see James. Hold him. Beg for his understanding, for his forgiveness.
The portal doors to the caves had been closed and locked. I ghosted and pushed through them, rushing along the main corridor and into the centre chamber. It was empty. The drone had been removed from the table. I called James’s name. It echoed off the high ceiling and around the room. Four grated doors marked the arms of the interior caves. I shouted James’s name at the mouth of each one and got no reply.
Had he returned to the house? I ghosted past the iron bars to the cave Stuart and I had entered earlier. At the terminal end of the cave, the greeter’s post was abandoned. I passed through the grated door and the air filters and pushed up the air shaft and out the candy-cane bend. Once free of the vent, I established my bearings and headed for the main house.
The sight of James’s minivan in the driveway flooded me with relief. I rushed the door, passed through it then re-formed at the foot of the staircase. Hurried footsteps echoed down the hall above. James appeared on the bridge with his satchel in hand. When he saw me, his stride faltered, but only momentarily. He swept down the rest of the way and stopped in front of me.
“You’re leaving?” I asked.
“I can’t stay here. I’m going to find Cain.”
“Now? No! Please. We need to talk.”
“Oh? Now you want to talk?”
“I had no choice.”
“I warned you about Mason and Stuart, about how manipulative they are, but you wouldn’t listen. Thought you could handle it and now look at you.”
“It’s not forever. Just until I find a way to protect my covey.”
“What about us, Emelynn?”
“Nothing’s changed.”
“Everything has changed. You said you weren’t one of them—almost had me convinced. And now you are.”
“I’m the same person I was this morning. It’s a job, James. That’s all.”
“If you think it’s just a job then you weren’t listening. You swore an oath.”
“It’s a stupid ritual.”
James’s face was set in hard lines. He took a step forward.
I reached for his arm and grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t go.”
“I can live with the fact that you’re a Ghost. You had no choice in the matter. But this? This was a choice. I don’t know if I can live with it. I don’t know if I can live with a fully sworn member of the Tribunal.”
He pulled free of me and walked out the door. I heard the engine of the minivan start up and the screech of its tires as he peeled out of the driveway. And then I heard nothing.
