His eyes flitted first to the room surrounding him—a trapped animal looking for an escape route. Seeing none, he began searching for a sympathetic face in the audience that surrounded us. No one stepped up to his defense, calling for mercy as he so obviously anticipated. His eyes crossed my face briefly, and he looked away before any connection could be made. Was that fear of me? Or of the men standing sentry at my back?
Slowly, as if fighting a heavy weight, he straightened his spine and slowly met the eyes of each council member. “You’ve had me for days.” I reared back slightly, only barely managing to contain my reaction. They’d had him all this time? I’d been worrying for days needlessly. Killian was growling softly and my other guys were just as tense, striving not to radiate their anger and frustration.
“You know why I did what I did. You will use any excuse to take your fucked up idea of revenge. Get it over with. We all know why you’re doing it.” Michael began to rev up, and I couldn’t hold completely still, my muscles shaking as memories ran through my head. When he would rev up like this is when the beating would get extremely bad. “You all know that you’re not the protective body you pretend you are. You’re in this for your own selfish, twisted-”
I saw Councilman Ishida’s eyes narrow as the prisoner’s words cut off, but it was Councilman Lacroix who stepped forward to speak. “Enough. We did not remove your wards to hear your dribble. We removed them so you could make a request. If you do not have an appeal to make, we will sentence you now.” Michael—Henri?—remained sullenly silent as he stared at the councilman.
Damien stiffened beside me, his arms shaking as he appeared to force himself into calm. Damien, what’s wrong? Hiro’s words drew the attention of all the guys to our protective Gargoyle. While his stance before had been solid, he appeared to be struggling to stay on his feet and working hard to hide it from our audience. His skin—usually a lush olive—was now nearly grey with a thin layer of sweat covering it.
Damien! Ryder’s voice was worried. I’ll interrupt this, I swear to God. What the hell is going on?!
He knew him. Shock and despair were evident in the words. It’s why he was shielding so hard. He knew Michael.
Damn it, D, you’re not making sense. Kill growled.
Damien’s shattered and empty eyes met mine, wide and horrified. My father knew Michael. He’s known him for years. God, Nix, I’m so sorry.
I froze, my eyes locked on Damien’s. They knew each other? Damien’s father and Michael? One of the other Council members I could understand. That twisted Councilman Maldonado seemed as though he was cut from the same cloth. Not Damien's father, though, the gentle and protective father, the one whom Damien worshipped.
There could be a mistake, Damien. Trust Theo to try and logic us out of the situation. Don’t overthink it yet. You could be misunderstanding what you’re seeing. Let us help you with it. Now is not the time. Compartmentalize. If it is true, he cannot know that we know. All of you. Hold your walls and keep them up. You know they always look for cracks. Don’t give them one.
“Henri Gagnon. You chose not to plead your case. No one here will speak for you. This Council judges you as guilty. You are sentenced to death.” Murmurs of approval sounded from the crowd, and I swallowed back both the disgust and the glee that rose like bile in my throat. I hated myself.
Councilman Maldonado rose from his seat, the elegance of his tuxedo not able to hide the savage anticipation in his movements or the feral joy of the smirk that crossed his lips.
“Councilman Khan.” Ryder’s speaking voice, rather than his mind voice, surprised me enough that I turned to look at where he had moved forward, drawing the eyes of the gathering to him. “As citizens, we honor the decision of the Council; however, we do have a plea.”
“You wish for leniency?” The shocked question came from Councilman Ishida.
Ryder shook his head, spreading his hands in a flowing gesture. “I ask for leniency, not for the convicted, but for Nix. She has already witnessed enough in the way of violence in her life. While she cannot—and would not—choose to be spared from all violence in her future, as her friend and a party more versed in the laws and traditions of our culture, I request leniency on her behalf in the method of execution.” He shot a glance at Councilman Maldonado when his growl began to build. “It is tradition under our law that crimes of this order be punished under the old laws and without mercy to the extent of pain or time of death. I ask that the Council override this decision. Please allow Councilman Williams to complete the execution. His method is clean and has no true outward signs of violence. It would be a better psychological step for Nix than seeing the…” He paused as if trying to find a word that was emphatic, yet respectful “… the carnage of other methods.”
Councilman Maldonado was shaking with anger, his glare on Ryder. Surprising me, it was Councilman Rahal who stepped forward, laying a restraining hand on the Manananggal’s arm. “The boy is correct, Santiago. While punishing her abuser will give her some sense of completion for that stage of her life, doing so in an incredibly violent manner and forcing her to watch it will not help anyone. Our goal is to protect our people, that includes protecting them from emotional discomfort as well.”
Councilman Maldonado’s lips were drawn back tightly over teeth that had begun to elongate, but he did not resist his friend’s hand. He allowed himself to be led back to his throne, though he appeared unable to prevent the rolling snarl from spilling continuously from his lips. When he turned around and took his seat upon his throne, his eyes were pure darkness. It was Councilman Williams’ turn to step forward, drawing my gaze. His tux was cut tighter than the rest of his companions, the material slicker and more defined. He moved with grace in it, apparently feeling no restrictions from the tight fabrics, severe cut, and formal attire. “Henri Gagnon. I do not take a life easily. It is one of the duties of the Council, and one I will perform. This death is a far easier one than the one you deserve. Be grateful for that.”
He stepped from the dais, striding until he was face to face with Michael—no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t think of him as Henri. I remained frozen where I was, knowing I was required to watch, wanting nothing more than to run. Why did I have to leave one world full of violence only to find myself in another? Michael tried to avoid the slender hands that reached for his chin to no avail. Their grip on him was firm and sure as Councilman Williams turned him until their eyes met. They stared into each other’s eyes for a minute, then two, like lovers who had been apart for years. Then, without a sound from either, Michael slumped to the floor. I clenched my hands into fists, wanting to pierce the skin with my nails, let the pain center me, but not wanting to draw the attention of an already hungry Manananggal.