Page 192 of The Order

“Maybe you're right,” he begins, his eyes assessing me closely. “But I can promise you I will see to it that she knows-”

“That's enough, Xavier,” an unfamiliar voice bellows, his hand instinctively going around his throat, his body jolting back and into the edge of his desk.

Scanning the room rapidly, his hands claw at the new bruises forming around his skin.

An invisible force tears away at his shirt. Multiple lesions work up the Commander's front and sides. His head is craned back to stifle a silent scream. Unable to speak, I glance around with him, my eyes landing on the robed figures looming in a passageway hidden along the wall in the back of the room.

The figure in the middle stands out from the others. Unlike the gold masks the elites wear at the Lottery, this figure wears a haunting silver face covering with no distinguishable eye or mouth indentations. The voice from the figure in the center is eerie, something otherworldly. Silently, the pair next to the figure raise their heads. Their eyes are lifeless, their mouths bound by twine, and their wrists secured in shackles.

Unable to look away, I watch as the bound figures move closer to Xavier, running their long nails down his front, creating fresh cuts. Still, Xavier remains silent. His hand pounds the desk in frustration.

“You've created quite the mess, boy,” the robed figure in the silver mask mutters.

Xavier moans in pain. His torment is unbearable, the pain in his voice something I’ve never witnessed. It’s as if years of agony hide in the noises escaping from him. The ghoulish figures finally stop their assault and return to their spots next to the figure in silver.

Xavier glances down at the cuts and takes a deep breath. The figure raises a hand and waves a ring-adorned finger in front of him at Xavier.

“You've done enough. Consider me letting you have alone time with Katiana justice for your sister.”

Writhing in my seat, the figure finally looks at me, urging one of the others to pull up a chair. Moving a stool in front of me, their movements are silent.

“Don't be startled by my Paradox's appearances. They are in a state of metamorphosis, you see. The transition from Undesirable to human is not pretty,” the masked figure says. They glide across the floor to take a seat in front of me, their movements refined and graceful as they sit down.

“Undesirable?” I question.

“Shifter,” Xavier clarifies, keeping his eyes on the figure before me.

“Yes. Shifter. That is what the people in the mouse trap call the Marked needing guidance back to the light,” the figure says, barely acknowledging Xavier’s tone.

“Who the hell are you?” I question, desperately wanting to rip away the mask.

“I would keep your hands where they are, Katiana. Last time someone tried to take a look beneath this mask, it cost them more than they were willing to bargain,” the figure says, looking back at Xavier, no doubt hiding a smile beneath the silver.

“Pity you think so cruelly of me, Xavier. You’d be nothing without my guidance,” the figure says, his Paradoxes quietly awaiting his next orders.

“What do you want?” I ask, hoping at least one of my questions will be answered.

“Up until very recently, I thought what I wanted was control. Control of what lies within this ward and all that lies beyond the walls. However, given the chaos that exists beyond this ward, starting small within this society's barriers seemed more attainable. Infiltrate from the inside, spreading like roots to a tree,'' the figure says, tapping their fingers along their knee. “Given Xavier’s eagerness to serve me in efforts to repay his debt, nothing seemed more perfect. Find me my Marked, and expel the weak,” the figure continues, Xavier’s head hanging in shame.

“So what? You command a ring of Marked lunatics who have no social skills and take over society like tyrants?” I push. A hint of a smile hides in Xavier’s expression.

“I command, yes. The Marked, the Undesirables, weak-minded men and women, like those twins your children loved so dearly,” They continue, glancing back at Xavier. “Or simply weak men who need to know a little pain.”

“Power and control. It's what I wanted-”

“And I gave it to you.”

“You did, and a lot of it, might I add,” the figure says, clasping their thin hands together. “But, sadly, where I’d initially planned to kill you as a message to convince your daughter back so I may have her beneath my thumb, tutoring her like I have Xavier, it would seem things have changed, Mrs. Blackburn-” the figure begins.

“Changed?” Xavier questions. Genuine discomfort lingers in his tone.

“I don't think I stuttered,"the figure retorts, firmly clasping their hands.

“In what way have they changed?” Xavier asks, his arms crossed along his front, adding to his bulkiness.

The figure in silver snaps their fingers toward the Paradoxes. One of the haunting figures shuffles forward in their robe. The Paradox pulls out a small device from beneath the soft material of their robes. The technology is newer than anything I’ve seen. The screen illuminates, and I wait anxiously, trying to understand what it’s for.

“While your daughter's boy-toy was busy Winnowing her and her friends out of this facility, I had a few of my people linger behind to evaluate her blood sample closely. I had a feeling the data you recorded in her file would not be entirely accurate. Given the extent her father went to keep her file hidden, from even Xavier, my curiosities were piqued,” the figure says, glancing over the screen. “Do you know how many genetic variations the Marked can have, Mrs. Blackburn?”

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