Page 55 of Liar's Heart
“Yeah.” He licks his lips, trying to refresh the cracked skin. “Follow my lead, okay?”
I squeeze his hand in response as the Councilman begins speaking. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? There’s been a lot of discussion lately regarding the state of this house. The heir of Charon hasn’t actively ferried in years despite a nearly decade-long hallmark career prior to his absence. Rumor is that Ender has all but disowned you, Alec, and while that’s really not our business, it’s concerning to think this man stands to inherit your crown and knows nothing about the business in its present state. It’s concerning to think maybe you’ve lost control over your station if you can’t control your own son.”
Alec looks more annoyed than anything. Clearing his throat, he says, “I didn’t realize my leadership was being challenged like this.” His brow furrows. “You were present yesterday when I outlined the plan to take care of both these issues.”
“I was,” says the Councilman. “I didn’t call this meeting togo back through that.” He turns his head, the impassive gold face now pointing at Ender. “I called it because I want to hear Ender’s explanation. Why did you walk away, son?”
Ender swallows, looking down at his chained wrists and gathering his thoughts before facing the Councilman again. “I left because of Merrick,” he says, the words squeezing my heart. “Alec wanted to marry her and destroyed her family to get to her. When her boyfriend, another Ferryman, and I discovered his plans, we made sure he beat Alec to the punch in securing her bridal contract. Alec made me kill him. Before the execution, he signed over the contract to me in an effort to keep Alec from being able to marry Merrick. You may recall that he went to the Council to try to get that decision rescinded, but the Council sided with me, and the transfer stood.”
Ender’s hands are beginning to shake, I think with rage, but his voice remains steady. “I watched the way that man treated my mother my whole life before she mysteriously died. I know how he treated me as a child. I couldn’t stand back and watch that cycle repeat itself, let alone with my friend’s girl. So he ordered me to kill my friend to punish me for my disobedience. That was the final straw. That’s why I left.”
Nothing he just said is new information to me, but to hear him say it all again to someone else, let alone in front of Alec, gives the words a new weight. They’re no longer whispered confessions, secrets Ender was going to take to his death. They’re a testimony. And based on the body language of the disguised man in front of us, the accusation in his familiar voice, I’m not sure that we’re the ones on trial here.
The Councilman nods. “Thank you, Ender.”
He turns back to Alec, who has already started his rebuttal. “Lennox Prescott knew what he was interfering with when he went behind my back and stole her bridal contract. He knew he was painting a target on his own back by gettingin my way. I had every right to call down his execution for taking what was mine.”
The Councilman’s head tilts to the side, the movement eerie with the mask. In a scalding voice, he says, “I don’t think that’s entirely true, Alec. You have a rather nasty habit of thinking all sorts of things belong to you that don’t. Fury,” he calls out. “Let him in.”
The Fury guarding the door knocks twice, signaling the guard outside to open the door. To my immense relief, the man who walks through that door next isn’t another Fury or Council member but Roman Kincaid. Roman Kincaid, who has a laptop tucked under his arm and a hell of a grin on his face. The Councilman holds out an arm, welcoming Roman into the circle, and asks him, “Mr. Kincaid, I trust you have the requested information with you?”
Roman nods, and the Councilman gestures for him to proceed. Roman sits down in an armchair opposite the Councilman and opens up the laptop on the coffee table in front of him. It only takes moments for him to pull up whatever he needs. He clicks on something and sits back as Alec's voice comes out of the speaker.“There are checks and balances, guidelines that help keep everything from turning into an all-out bloodbath. The Council will usually turn their head the other way for one such murder, but two? Not even a higher position can help you there.”
A pause, and then my voice.“You can't kill Ender because he'd be your second. That's why you couldn't interfere.”
“I had a brother. Thomas.”
Ender’s hands slacken in mine, but I don’t dare shift my focus from Alec, who is slowly turning a violent shade of red. I leave one hand on my husband and square myself up to the threat in front of us. The recording plays on, but Roman leans forward and clicks again, skipping to a different section.“Ender isn’t yours.”
“Oh, he’s mine. In every way that matters. I’m on his birthcertificate. He’s been my son since before he was born by Society law. I made that boy in my image, but biologically? No. He’s my nephew and stepson.”
Roman clicks again, pausing the recording as Alec's confession ripples through the room. A beat of silence hangs in the air before the Councilman breaks it. “That's just one example. And, in all honesty, you are correct. That was your right, and your one free kill. I can't exactly fault you for your ambition. But by the time it cost me my son… well, let's just say I had a change of heart.”
He pulls the hood of his robes back and removes his mask, breaking all protocol and tradition. Then again, Elliott Prescott has never been one to refuse to face his enemies head-on—a trait Lennon and Lennox both inherited from their father.
Elliott runs a hand through his short, sandy-brown hair, fixing where the mask and hood had flattened it against his head. “God, this day’s been a long time coming,” he says.
He turns to the Fury and nods, and we all watch as the Fury heads back to the door and knocks twice. This time, the door opens, and Len walks into the room, giddy as she makes her way over to stand next to her father. Reaching his side, she whispers a quick, “Hi, Daddy.”
Elliott beams at his daughter before addressing us all. “Gang's all here. Welcome to the Ascension, Alec.”
Surprisingly,Alec has the decency to not try to bolt. It wouldn't do him any good if he did, but sometimes instinct kicks in, and people can't help themselves. Their survival drive takes over, and they make stupid decisions in their fight to stay alive. It never works, but they try it anyway.
Alec knows there's only one way out of this room, and it's at the mercy of the Furies. Very convenient when he stole my wife to hold her prisoner here, but now not so much. Not when the Fury at the door will only open it with a knock sequence Alec doesn't know. He's not leaving this room a free man, and he knows it.
When the Councilman—Elliott—left yesterday and his chair didn't, I wasted no time trying to break it apart. I was hoping to gain a weapon I could stash away but found something better. Taped to the underside of the chair was an envelope containing a bronze obol and a piece of paper with one solitary word written on it:Ascend.
Hours later, when a Fury opened my cell door and the same Councilman walked in, I was ready. Even still, I could have wept with relief when the Councilman leaned his masked face close to mine and whispered, “We are going to pay your wife and father a visit. Trust me with this, and follow my lead. The hound will meet us at the gates.”
Ro was here, and this man was an ally. Of course, Elliott Prescott being the one under the mask was a hell of a surprise, as well as Ro not keying me in on his involvement untilafterI'd been kidnapped, but those are things to sort through later.
Right now, I really want to handle the fact that I walked in to find this sick fuck with his hands on my wife. Touching her at all is beyond unacceptable, but after threatening to rape her? His mangled corpse will be my magnum opus.
But I promised Elliott he'd get his fun before I got to play.
“Are we doing this the easy way or the hard way, Alec?” Elliott asks, and I watch the monster who raised me come out to play in Alec's eyes. But he's no longer what he once was, and as he looks around the room, sizing up the remaining four people, I think he finally realizes it. He’s still in good shape at sixty, still active in his work and physically capable, but in hand-to-hand combat, he wouldn’t be able to take any of us individually, let alone together. Most of the power he wielded against us, againstme, wasn't strength but fear. And we're not afraid of him anymore.
I'mnot afraid of him anymore.
