The wedding, for all intents and purposes, was beautiful. No different, perhaps, from other weddings I’ve attended. It took place in a traditional chapel large enough to house the guests, yet quaint enough to feel private. A full orchestra playedThe Wedding March, and a choir made up of schoolboys sangOh Happy Day. Maybelle wore a white dress; the Head, a black suit. A fat, porcine pastor at the altar, somewhat greedily uniting them before the eyes of God. Rice was thrown and doves were set loose from a plethora of cages lining their exit, as they walked out,newlyweds, ready for their bright and glamorous future together.
I failed in my duty to wear a joyful smile and to clap along with the other happy people. I felt no pride in witnessing their bond, and no happiness in wishing them well for the years to come. I had no one to point the finger of blame at but myself.
As I enter the banquet hall, where we’re supposed to indulge in the festivities of the union, I realize something I don’t like. I’d crossed a boundary I shouldn’t have last night. Gorged myself not only on the pleasures of flesh, but suckled on the teat of some newfound emotional yearning.
However, the image of her perfectly rounded, pale ass, reddened by my own hand, will never disappear entirely. Nor will the gasps of delinquent pleasure from our lips as they collided in near-orgasmic euphoria.
In the dining hall, the Head is sitting in the center of a long table with his bride, our future Spirit, at his side. Elias is on his right. There is space between them for me.
I finally understand what the Head has been scheming over all these past years. And why Elias’s grave words about Maxwell Henderson’s trial didn’t register at the time. He’s assembling an army, not for the benefit of the Veil, but to grab our holy establishment by the throat and squeeze until it succumbs to his will.
My body tenses, and I can’t find my footing to move.
“You doing alright?” Lilith asks at my side. I was so lost in my own disconcerting thoughts that I didn’t notice her arrival.
I’m also surprised to hear her voice again. She hasn’t uttered a word to me since I caught her in my room. Not since she scurried away, red-faced and flustered.
“I never told you,” I say, unable to take my eyes off the scene ahead of us. “You look beautiful today.”
I leave without another word.
I am too tired of all the thoughts inside my head to partake in the festivities.
I must rest now, for tonight, our lives change forever.
***
“Our brothers and sisters of the Veil have gathered in the Grand Hall.” I stand in the doorway of the Head’s lavish study. “It’s time.”
The brief moment of peace that fell on me in the banquet hall brought back the clarity I’d lost since first encountering Lilith. And although she’s proving to be a continued distraction, this matter demands my full attention.
Before anything else, I am its shield.
The Head gazes out of a floor-to-ceiling window, observing Midnite City in the distance, sparkling like ajewel in the night. Even from this far out of town, the biggest and brightest neon signs are visible.
There’s MilGen in its rustic military green, protesting peace at the low cost of their bullets. Kurohana Industries, headed by Iniko’s parents, urges forgetting flesh and bone for metal replacements. Lux-Peak Technologies will bring you the future today. And then, there’s Crawford Enterprises, the city’s founding father.
The Head waves me to enter.
“You sound glum,” he says, unwilling to break away from the view.
“I’m not.” I stop beside him, following his eyes, inspecting the Sprawl and the Bleed analytically. I pity the poor souls who reside in the chaos we are about to unleash.
“Dissatisfied?”
“Uncertain,” I say, giving him what he wants.
“Don’t be.” He lays a hand on my shoulder. It hangs awkwardly over the front, given our significant height difference. “The Spirit has to see what she belongs to, firsthand. Maxwell’s trial will give her a brutally honest look into what we are.”
“May I speak freely?”
He draws back his hand and peers at me for a moment, his thin lips pursed together.
“Of course.”
“What happens if the Hand isn’t found guilty of his crimes?” The ultimate judge is neither me, nor the Head. It falls upon the Heart to deliver a verdict.
“He won’t resume his life as normal. He will see this assault on him and his loyalty as a betrayal of the worst kind.”
