The compound is on lockdown, the normally soft lighting in the courtyard even more dim than usual. It's late now. The traffic outside dwindling to a silence that only seems to preface the ominous occasions on a night such as this one.
The guards are at the gates. The Sovereign Sons and their respective families are all dressed in robes, the few women in attendance donning veiled hats. The men, including myself, are in masks.
Mercedes is beside me, Judge flanking her other side while we take our place in the crowd. Time passes slowly as each family walks the stairs to the gallows erected only for events such as these.
All the Society members who have been wronged by Abel have an opportunity to speak their final piece. Every family who lost someone in the explosion is in attendance, as well as some of the excommunicated members who were wronged by his false evidence.
One by one, they approach him while he stands on the wooden platform, hands tied behind his back. Some are too grief-stricken to speak. Others too quiet to hear. The slaps from mothers who have buried their sons can be heard echoing throughout the courtyard, and Abel bears them all through gritted teeth and a hardened jaw.
He was promised a peaceful execution, and for him, this is as peaceful as it will get. He will die by a broken neck or strangulation, but even that is too much for a coward like him. Someone who has inflicted so much pain cannot even consider the notion of receiving it himself. I have no doubt he was hoping for a large dose of barbiturates, a mercy only sanctioned for the particularly weak or vulnerable.
Since his fate was announced, I have swung between two extremes. One part of me knows it isn't enough, while the other logical part of me understands why it must be this way. He would have never given up the names of the others who participated in the crimes unless there was something in it for him. Now, all of the families can be at peace. Because we are tired. It is a fact I can no longer deny.
When I look upon my sister, at the grief she has shouldered since the loss of our family, I know this is what we need. Not just for Ivy's sake, but for ours too. It is time to put these dark memories behind us, and tonight, when I go to sleep, it will be with a clean conscience.
Abel Moreno will be dead, and I will never allow him to taint my thoughts again.
"It's our turn," Mercedes whispers.
I nod at her, steadying her as we step forward together. Judge releases her reluctantly, their eyes connecting briefly before I escort her up the platform to stand before the devil himself.
Mercedes trembles in my grasp, and it is all I can do to hold her up as she meets his gaze. He won't look her in the eye. He won't look either of us in the eye.
As part of his plea, he did not hesitate to tarnish any other name in an effort to save his own. He told The Tribunal that Mercedes had hired the woman who poisoned me to lure me into adultery. He also tried to pass off the poisoning as her plan in a last-ditch effort, but the evidence against him could not be ignored. As one last parting shot, he cast a shadow over my sister's name. And there will certainly be a punishment from The Tribunal for her involvement in the scheme with the courtesan, no matter how small. Even I cannot save her from facing the consequences of her actions, but I can and will plead on her behalf. I suspect it will be a light sentence, hours of service to the Society. Time spent assisting the nuns. Whatever it may be, even Abel knows it will not come close to matching his own. Yet I believe that was his intention.
He would have my sister die for his actions. He would run down his own sister in cold blood and sacrifice his own family for his pursuit of power. How many lives has he destroyed? How many families?
The others involved in the schemes have been punished accordingly. Holton has been excommunicated for his role. Chamber’s surviving family members too, who were found hiding out in the South of France. They were guilty by association with Chambers himself, his shame too great to bear. But it is Abel who was the true snake amongst us.
When I look at his face, I understand what it means to have no soul. There is nothing in him to save. Nothing that will carry from this life to the next. And I believe, for him, that is the worst punishment of all.
"I want you to know something," I begin, my voice quiet and low.
He lifts his chin slightly, his eyes meeting mine for the first time. There is the hint of a smirk playing across his lips. He wants me to know I haven't won. That he will never possess any true regret for his actions. A fact that could only wound me if I hadn't realized it long ago myself.
"From this day forward, you will cease to exist," I tell him. "You will not be remembered. You will not be mourned. Nobody in this Society will ever utter your name again."
The smirk slips from his face, and in its place, a shimmer of rage appears.
"Our lives will go on. We will raise our children and prosper in your absence. Your family will be my family. Your sister, my wife. Your father, my father. The dark days you created will be long behind us. And when we gather for every holiday, there will not be an empty seat at the table. It will be as if you never existed at all. Your memory will be wiped away, forgotten. And I think, perhaps, that is the greatest gift you have given us. An apathy so pure, we can no longer harbor hatred for you. Nor sadness, nor loss. There is nothing, and there will always be nothing as far as you're concerned."
"You aren't their family," he snarls under his breath. "You never will be. And they will remember me. They will never forget—"
I unfold the note from Ivy, holding it up for him to see, and he goes rigid.
"You should know better than anyone, Abel, what it means when someone forgives. It means they have made peace with who you are. They have accepted the truth, and they have let you go. The cord is severed. It is the very reason your own father provided the evidence against you. There is nothing worth saving in you, and he understands that, perhaps better than any of us."
“No,” he growls. “You are wrong. He will grieve for me. You’ll see. You will all see. Nobody can ever replace me. Least of all you.”
A dark smile flickers across my face as I offer one last sentiment to carry him to his final breath.
“I already have.”
We turn to go, and Mercedes halts me, glaring back at Abel, steeling her strength as she stands taller. When she pulls away from me, I am not certain of her intentions, but I do not intervene as she approaches Abel. She pauses only when the tips of her heels bump against his bare feet, and for a moment, she stares at him with such unwavering strength, it reminds me of who she is at her core. She is determined to let Abel know it too. That she will rise from the ashes of her destruction. That his actions will not ruin her.
Without warning, she whips her head back and hurls spit in his face and then slowly curls her lips into a poisonous smile.
“I will do the same to your grave. Enjoy your death, you miserable bastard. You’ve earned it.”
When she returns to me, taking note of the surprise on my face, she offers the slightest of nods, and I escort her back down the stairs, returning her to Judge who’s waiting at the bottom. He seems to be hypervigilant this evening, his eyes scanning her face through the mask. Looking for signs of distress. Weakness. Something I can’t quite identify.
We move through the parting crowd together, rejoining the other families at the back. A gong sounds, and the guards take their positions at the gallows. The women all turn their backs, including Mercedes, while the men watch on.
I squeeze my sister’s hand as the guard at the top of the platform makes his preparations, adjusting the noose on Abel’s neck and checking the ropes on his ankles and wrists. He is not offered a bag for his head. Tonight, we will all witness the gruesome sight of his writhing face until nothing is left but his bulging eyes and gaping mouth.
His transgressions are read against him one final time, the names of the dead called out before the guard steps to the side and silence settles over the crowd. There is a restlessness in these final moments as I watch him, and strangely enough, it is my face he seeks in the crowd. His eyes fall on me, face tight, with my final words undoubtedly lingering in his thoughts.
He knows them to be true.
It is the last peaceful thought I have before the guard pulls the lever, and the floor beneath Abel drops out, his body falling through, swinging wildly as he gurgles for a few brief moments. Fleeting panic is the last earthly expression he wears on the mask he called a face. And then slowly, it fades to nothing.
A blank slate.
A man who never was.
“Is it done?” Mercedes whispers over the sound of the creaking rope.
“It is done,” I answer solemnly.
“Eli?” My voice is gruff, barely audible behind him.
He turns slowly from his pew in the chapel, and I’m not certain how long he’s been here, alone in the darkness. Waiting for the news of his son’s death. The confirmation since he was unable to bear it himself.
Again, it hits me how difficult this must have been for him, and the respect I once had for him shines brighter than it ever did.
“Santiago,” he murmurs, dragging a tremulous hand over his white hair as he rises. “I suppose you have come to deliver the news.”
“No.” I lift my jaw, struggling to get the words out. “I came to tell you… thank you.”
There’s a long moment when we study each other, his eyes shining with tears, and mine with… well, I suppose much of the same.
“I was blinded by my grief,” I confess. “I couldn’t let it go. And I believed the worst in you. For that, I am sorry.”
“You believed what any man would have in your position,” he answers solemnly. “For that, I cannot fault you.”
I dip my head in acknowledgment, and silence settles between us. I’m not certain who takes the first step, but I suspect it is Eli. Slowly, we close the distance between each other, and I extend my hand, an offer of peace. Eli glances at it and shakes his head, pulling me in for a hug instead.
“We are family now,” he says softly. “And I am proud to call you my son, Santiago. You are becoming the man I always knew you would.”
My shoulders relax under his praise, and I swallow, choking back the emotion his words provoke in me.
“Thank you, Eli,” I answer quietly. “Thank you for seeing me even when I couldn’t.”