| |
I desperately wanted to run after him but my feet were rooted to the floor—a rat trapped on one of those horrid glue strips. It’s hard to know if I stood there for one minute or ten. Eventually, I put one foot in front of the other and made my way into the drawing room.
If I hadn’t felt so numb, I might have jumped at the sight of Stuart sitting in a chair tucked around the corner. He had a drink in his hand. He didn’t get up and didn’t say a word. I didn’t acknowledge him. I walked to the bar and poured myself a Scotch. I tasted it then downed it and poured another.
“I’m sorry James reacted that way,” Stuart said.
“Can’t blame him, though, can you?”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“Don’t. You and Mason have done enough damage.”
“You made the right decision tonight, in spite of what James thinks. He’d have done the same in your shoes.”
“Why aren’t you still at the reception?”
“I saw James leave the party. Figured you might follow him.”
I sat in a seat on the other side of the room, far away from Stuart. “I’m curious about something. The Tribunal go to great lengths to keep their identities hidden. Why be so public about it tonight?”
He swirled the dregs of his drink. “Showing themselves exposes their vulnerability. It also proves their trust in the ones selected to attend. Those who have been invited understand that they’ve been granted an honour. The Tribunal protects them, so they protect the Tribunal. If any of them were to be so foolish as to reveal an identity, they’d be dealt with harshly, not only by the Tribunal, but by all the others.”
Another five minutes passed before Stuart spoke again. “Where does the name Morgan come from?”
“It was my dad’s mother’s maiden name.”
“It’s a Celtic name.”
Again, silence stretched between us.
“Earlier tonight, Mason mentioned that some of us can manipulate memories,” I said. “What did he mean by that?”
“He was referring to people like James and Redmond.”
“There are others?”
“A few can plant memories. Others can erase them.”
Handy. Maybe I’d get a referral. “Are those people forced to work for the Tribunal like the Mosses were?”
“No. The others are Ghosts; coercion isn’t necessary.”
Another five minutes passed. “Who is the man with the goatee? I’ve seen him before—not at Cairabrae but somewhere.” I tried once more to remember where and came up empty.
“You’ve not seen him before.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He keeps a low profile. He’s an assassin for hire. Has no allegiance. Killed his own brother on a contract. He couldn’t spell the word honour if you wrote it out for him.”
“Does he have a name?”
“No.”
The Tribunal probably kept Mr. No-Name Assassin busy. Exhaustion crept over me. I didn’t have the fortitude to confront Mason tonight. I finished my drink and stood. “Good night,” I said, and started for the stairs.
In my room, I closed the door behind me and stared at the bench where James’s satchel should have been. I tossed my coat across it. The room was warm in the glow of a crackling fire. I tugged off my boots then fell into a chair in front of the fire and curled my feet up under me.
I pictured the hard set to James’s face and replayed his words. He didn’t know if he could live with the choice I’d made. I could still feel him twisting free of my grip and hear his heels on the stone walking out. My heart ached. It struck me then that heartache wasn’t just a word.
I stared into the flames. How could James not understand the position I was in? He’d been privy to the conversation in that chamber tonight. Did he not recognize the power grab the Tribunal was setting up? The danger of a government registry? The glee in Sebastian’s voice alone should have been a warning. How could James think I’d walk away from that threat without a fight? Perhaps he didn’t know me as well as I thought he did.
Would my mother react the same way? Had I made a choice tonight that would drive away everyone I loved?
A knock at the door pulled me out of my thoughts. “Come in.”
Phillip arrived with a tray. “Stuart told me you hadn’t eaten. I thought you might like some dinner.” He set the tray beside me. One covered plate sat upon it, not two. A missed meal wasn’t the only news Stuart had passed along.
“That’s kind of you,” I said. “Thanks. And thanks for lighting the fire.” Phillip scurried about poking the coals and set another log on the fire.
He accepted my thanks with a bow and soon left me alone again. I circled my knees with my arms, pulled them close and turned back to the flames.
Eventually, I crawled into bed. Pain flared around my heart as I thought about living my life without James. Who would I call when I’d beaten my best running time? When I needed to vent about Sebastian? Who would ever understand what I’d been through in the years after Jolene gifted me? The years I didn’t understand why or how I lost gravity. Who would ever believe I’d been unaware that Jackson was married?
James had said he didn’t know if he could live with my decision. I grasped at the hint of indecision in his words because losing James would be like losing a piece of myself. Tears came and went, and in time I fell asleep. It wasn’t restful. I woke tired and lay in bed once again reliving my last conversation with James. Neither the sun streaming in through the crack in the drapes nor the hours that had passed eased the pain in my chest. I feared having to get used to it.
After showering, I stood at the foot of the bed and stared at my clothing options. Peach-coloured capris with a white T-shirt, or black on black. The capris looked too much like a fun day at the beach. I dressed in black—it suited my mood—and pulled on Mason’s Tribunal jacket. I was one of them now. Might as well look like it. Hell, maybe I’d been one of them all along. I packed my bag and headed down the stairs.
The scent of toast sent me searching for the kitchen. I hadn’t even looked at the meal Phillip had brought me last night, and now I felt famished. The kitchen was in the back of the house. Phillip wore a black apron and tended to two skillets on the stove. Mason and Stuart were seated and looked up at my arrival. Stuart set aside a newspaper and Mason set aside his tablet. Neither said a word. Phillip, wisely, pretended he hadn’t seen me.
I walked to the coffee pot, poured a cup and took it to the table. Mason pushed the cream in my direction. I poured a dollop and stirred.
“I wish you’d stayed last night,” Mason said. “I said some nice things about you in my speech.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry I missed that,” I said. My sarcastic tone didn’t escape him.
“How long are you going to stay angry?”
I stopped stirring. “You manipulated me. Again. I want to know why and then I want to hear an apology. After that, I’m leaving.”
Mason set his mug down and stared at it as if it had the answers. “Do you remember our conversation before your party at Cairabrae?”
“I remember you lied to me about Jolene. You bugged the first crystal-case necklace you gave me. You’ve never been honest with me about the Tribunal. But all of that pales in comparison with what you did last night.”
Mason rubbed his forehead. “Man, you hold a grudge like no one I know. I did make sure we could locate you after I gave you Mom’s crystal, but I never lied to you. I never misrepresented what happened with Jolene. We failed her, which pains us to this day, but I didn’t lie about it. It simply never came up. We set things straight with you the moment we could.”
“You mean the moment I caught you in your lie?”
Mason hung his head. Stuart dove into the fire. “As you witnessed last night, Ghosts are the only Fliers permitted in caucus. That’s because Ghosts are the only ones who count in our world. We can’t all sit at the table, but we can network and we can lobby. We influence what happens around that table. Jolene didn’t have the fortitude to stand in opposition to the Ghosts she’d grown up with. She abstained. We tried to influence her, and you know how that turned out. But you . . . you’re different. You have grit and fire. You have no history with the other Ghosts. We knew you’d stand up for what you believed in. What was right. From the beginning, all we have ever done is endeavour to guide you.”
“Manipulate me, don’t you mean?” I said. They didn’t bite.
Mason took up where Stuart had left off. “After Cairabrae, when we learned that the Tribunal would offer you a seat, Dad and I thought a miracle had dropped from the heavens. I was coming into power and you had an unfailing moral compass. Two votes instead of one.”
Stuart took the baton. “Not since its inception more than two hundred years ago has the Tribunal ever made such an offer. You can’t imagine how frustrated we were that you wouldn’t even consider it.”
“You can deny it all you like,” Mason said, “but I know you didn’t understand the significance of the seat the Tribunal offered you. Not until last night. How could you?”
“Are you quite done?” I said. They stared at me as though I’d grown a second head. “Where the hell was your moral compass, Mason, when you lied to my face and told me this plan of yours would neuter the Tribunal? For months now you’ve asked for my support and not once did you ever mention your plan didn’t include exposing Ghosts.” My voice had risen to a shout and it felt good, like a cleansing. “I will not stand idle while you protect Ghosts and the Tribunal at the expense of my friends and covey. Their names will not be written on some government register and I’ll fry in hell before Ivy’s idea to quell our jolts sees light.”
At some point during my rant I’d risen. I felt the heat in my face like fire. My heart pounded and my hands were balled into tight fists. Stuart looked contrite, worried even, but Mason smirked. My temper blew, and a gasket lost its life. “What the fuck are you smiling about!”
No one challenged me on my language. “See?” Mason said. “Moral compass.”
Now it was my turn to stare at him as though he’d grown a second head.
“This is politics, Emelynn,” he said. “It’s a negotiation. A constant back and forth. Last night I floated a trial balloon. Sebastian and his cronies knew it and took their shots.”
“Shots? They annihilated your plan, and in the process I learned a very ugly truth. They don’t care about Fliers. Their only interest is their own skin, their own families.”
“Not all of them,” Stuart said.
“Did you think it was going to be easy?” Mason said. “Maybe now you understand why we need you. Last night was just the beginning. I didn’t expect to get everything I wanted in this first round.”
“You got nothing and gave away everything. I thought you had some integrity. Where was your outrage when they suggested the idea of a Flier registry or controlling jolts?”
“Outrage isn’t a very effective strategy. And we didn’t get nothing. We now know who our strongest opponents are. And everyone who isn’t opposed, or who’s on the fence, will be home with their families right now discussing the idea of going public. Those conversations have never happened before. We lifted a taboo last night. When they’ve had time to absorb the tremendous freedom waiting on the other side of the secret, they’ll come around. I’m sure of it.”
“You took Ghosts out of the equation last night. They have no incentive to go public.”
“I gave the dissenters what they needed to hear to keep the conversation going, move it into their homes. The ghosting gene may not become public knowledge, but Ghosts will want the same freedom as Fliers. Believe me, they’ll accept nothing less.”
“And what about the Tribunal? Everything I heard last night would make them stronger, not weaker. The proposed registry? The culling of Fliers opposed to them?”
“Sebastian and his cronies lost last night. Their threats were to save face, that’s all. When the secret is out in the open, the Tribunal will have nothing to police that the courts can’t handle. Their circle of influence will shrink to Ghosts and Ghosts alone. The important thing is that we now have our baseline. We negotiate from there. It may take longer than expected, but trust me, we will end up where I’ve envisioned.”
“This is a game to you.”
“It’s one I’m good at.”
“Manipulation. Yes. There’s no denying that.”
Mason tilted his head. “I also gave you what you needed to hear last night. We can’t do this without you.”
“You could have warned me.”
“And I could have repeated how important it was for you to take that seat. But I might as well have bashed my head against a wall. You wouldn’t have listened.”
I dropped back into my chair. My head swam. I couldn’t sort out if Mason had a point or if he was scary good at manipulating me. Phillip pretended we hadn’t just had a screaming match that involved my saying fuck to his employers and set three plates down in front of us. The heavenly scent of breakfast sausage wafted up. Dollops of cheese and fried mushrooms oozed from an omelette peppered with black olives and green scallions. Salsa dribbled down the side of the eggs and pooled at the base of a heap of fried potatoes.
“If I find out you’re lying to me, Mason, I will never speak to you again.” Then I looked at Stuart. “Same goes for you. If anything he just said is bullshit, you tell me today. Because if I learn later that even a tiny detail of what I heard is a lie, I will disown you both.” I picked up my fork.
Only the sound of cutlery against china accompanied our meal. I guess my threats had dampened any potential for benign conversation. Not that I minded. My head was still reeling. I felt as if I’d been sucked into a vortex, chewed up and spit out. If only I could talk to James. He was my sounding board and I’d never needed him more than right now. Where was he? I wondered. Would he ever forgive me? Or at least come to understand the position I’d been in, the choice I’d made? Regardless, I’d made a choice and there was no going back.
“What comes next?” I asked, breaking the silence. “I mean, with the Tribunal?”
They both stared at their plates. I felt my temper rise. “What are you keeping from me?”
Mason looked up. “You’re aware that five members of the Tribunal actively carry out our decisions?”
“Yes, I remember.” Five of the nine . . . no, ten Tribunal members formed a subgroup that investigated grievances and enforced the Tribunal’s rules.
“One of them, Rachael, has put in her five years. She can ask to be replaced any time now. Dad and I think Sebastian or one of his crew will put your name forward to replace her.”
“Force me to get my hands dirty.”
“I’m afraid so,” Stuart said. “God willing, going public will put an end to all of it of course, but that may take a few years.”
“It wouldn’t be fair to accept special treatment,” I said. “It would make me look weak. I’d be less effective, and it’s not as if my hands are clean, anyway.”
“We don’t want that for you,” Mason said.
“A little too late for that, don’t you think? You two got any other surprises I need to know about?”
“No. That’s it.”
After we’d finished eating, Mason offered to drive me to the airport. Neither he nor Stuart had mentioned James’s glaring absence, for which I was grateful.
Outside, Mason held open the passenger door of his Audi for me. I climbed in and fastened the seat belt. I nodded to Stuart as Mason made a wide turn at the base of the driveway.
Our conversation in that first thirty minutes felt stilted, as if Mason was afraid of saying something that would set me off. It was probably a prudent move on his part. In the second thirty minutes, I let go of the anger and loosened up.
“I’ll have to tell my covey,” I said. Mason didn’t disagree. “They’ll probably toss me out when they learn I’m one of you.”
“They won’t,” Mason said, “but remember, the laws about Ghosts remain, at least for now. Your covey mustn’t know we exist.”
I gave some thought to how that conversation would play out. I’d also have to tell my mom. I’d promised her honesty and couldn’t lose her trust.
“My mother will be horrified.”
“Laura is a fighter, just like you,” Mason said. “She’ll understand.”
“James didn’t understand. He left me, and I’m not sure he’s coming back.” I hadn’t intended to say that; the words had just leaked out, and tears welled in my eyes.
Maybe Mason didn’t want to deal with the waterworks, or maybe he didn’t care to discuss James with me, but whatever the case, he pulled me out of my despair with words that smacked me upside of my head.
“Sebastian’s joining you on the flight back to Vancouver.”
I swung my head in his direction and blinked, as if clearing my vision would somehow change his words. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Enough with the fucking already. Sebastian’s still Tribunal. You think I’m going to suggest he fly commercial?”
“I would pay to see that.”
“You might actually enjoy this flight. He’ll be scrambling to ingratiate himself with you after his behaviour last night. I’d love to be a fly on the wall inside that plane.”
“I’d rather he not speak to me.”
“Open your mind to the game, Emelynn. See if you can score some points. You might not, but wouldn’t it be fun to see him grovel?”
“I can’t believe you treat this like a game, Mason.”
“What’s the alternative? Crawl into a hole? Shoot yourself? Your choice, I suppose. Personally, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.”
When we got to the airport, Mason parked at the departures door and jumped out of the car. He collected my bag from the trunk and approached. “Let me know how it goes with Laura. If she needs a punching bag or someone to shout at, call me.” Mason’s words stabbed my conscience.
This time, when he pulled me in for a hug, I let him. He handed me my bag and I turned away from him and sleepwalked through the doors. The past twenty-four hours had been so horrendous they’d pushed all thoughts of my father’s plane crash and the Mansfield Group from my head. Now it was all I could think of.
The needle of my moral compass pointed to hypocrite. I’d just berated Mason and Stuart for lying to me and I was guilty of the very same offence. How would they react when they learned of the investigation? Would they disown me as I’d threatened to do to them? Memory manipulation was sounding better to me all the time.
