Page 31 of Forged Absolution (Fates of the Bound 4)

Dixon took her sponge and pointed to the computer.

“I should help.”

Dixon shook his head and pointed again. Lila knew what he’d write if she didn’t walk away. The matches were more important than dishes, and more important than her last hour of freedom, too.

Lila returned to her laptop. It had finished comparing the missing children from the Allied Lands with the oracle’s list. She’d ended up with over a hundred results. Scanning through the list, she found at least forty pictures matched in error because of a too-lax tolerance.

Lila skimmed through the bios for the rest. Many of them appeared to be matches, which meant that up to sixty missing kids had flitted in and out of the oracle’s compound in the last ten years, some remaining there permanently. She had trouble believing the oracle had sheltered so many missing children by accident.

Then again, perhaps it wasn’t an accident after all.

Chapter 7

Dixon pulled into a parking spot outside the New Bristol Senate Building. Once again, he and Lila had slipped into Bullstow with no one the wiser. They’d entered through the west gate that morning and wound through the compound to the buildings in the east, all to avoid the paparazzi, the journalists, and the still-chanting protesters.

An effigy of Elizabeth Victoria Lemaire-Randolph had been hung at the gate, dangling from warped, rickety scaffolding built from graying wood. The cloth dummy wore a woolen blackcoat, her family’s lupine coat of arms clumsily scrawled across the back in dripping crimson paint. Rather than both wolves charging in opposite directions, they seemed to be bent over in fits of laughter.

Bleeding.

Lila hopped from the truck and slammed the door. Half a dozen workborn wearing thick coats and brown gardening gloves spread mulch on the flowerbeds near the entrance. Their chins lifted in recognition as she passed, hands never pausing in their work.

Had the oracle sent them?

Dixon squeezed her neck as the pair entered the east wing of the senate building. An even larger crowd than the day before filled the hallway, for a rainbow of dresses and long coats dotted the mob. The senators had brought dates, heirs who wanted to hear the news of Elizabeth Randolph’s demise and report it directly to their matrons.

The blackcoats at the committee room door patted Lila and Dixon down then prodded them inside.

She turned just in time to see Dixon slide his switchblade from his sleeve back into his pocket. He then adjusted his scarf as he spied Chief Shaw. The blackcoat had propped his wrists upon the seatback in front of him and fingered his cuffs, plucking at the seams before pulling his hands apart. Seconds later, they paired again, unconsciously back at the task.

Dixon saw it too. His eyes were sharper, or perhaps he tended to pay more attention to body language, since he could not speak. He gave her shoulder a pat, then took his place in the back corner, surveying the entire room.

Perhaps outside, as well. The gardeners had slipped around the building just beyond the window, joining half a dozen workborn. The group quietly spread mulch they’d already laid out, too focused and too tense to lead anywhere good.

>

Something about it wasn’t right.

Something about it reeked of the oracles.

If the group came for her, she’d have to go along to keep them alive.

She could always get away and surrender later.

Lila sat next to her lawyer, her eyes fixed on the row of empty leather chairs at the front of the room. With so few bodies in the courtroom and the absent committee members, it was difficult to know if she’d arrived early or late.

Perhaps early, since Chief Sutton had not yet arrived to take her seat.

“Elena Weberly was spared by the committee yesterday afternoon,” Mr. Martinez whispered.

“Elena Weberly paid someone to hack the Health Department so that she could have early access to prescription drug studies. She didn’t hack the database herself.”

“She should have gotten the noose.”

“On that we can agree. The Weberlys have been pushing Sonavir to clinics across Saxony as a viable and expensive antiviral. Shit’s hardly better than a placebo, with five times the side effects of Loravir and three times the price. Elena knew all along. She paid off researchers every time they tried to publish a new study on the drug’s efficacy and found it lacking. The whole lot of them should hang for it. Too bad the committee isn’t offering sentences based on intentions.”

Mr. Martinez didn’t answer. He drummed his fingers upon the desk as the senators filed into the room. The men appeared almost embarrassed, like they’d been shoved onstage by accident. None of them caught her eye.

The senators sat in their chairs, shifting as they adjusted their coats and cravats, their boots hidden beneath the long table. Lila imagined their toes dancing upon the hardwood floor like an awkward teen’s.

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