I swallow. “Why? Why does he want me?”
“Bulb or no bulb?”
I won’t get anything out of him. I know that. So when he takes a step into the room, I cry out for him to stop because I know he’s not messing around. And I don’t want to be in the dark, not down here.
“How long?” I ask when he releases me once I’m fully inside the room.
He shrugs his shoulders, reaching for the doorknob. I see the key in the lock on his side. “Until Jericho decides it’s time to come for you.” And before I can get another word in, he pulls the door closed and locks it.
I wrap my arms around myself. I look around this small, haunted place, chilled to the bone in this stupid dress. And terrified of what’s to come.
6
Jericho
Like a chastised child, Bishop is silent as he and Hildebrand leave the house. He heard the evidence. Bits and pieces I selected just for him. The most damning fragments. He didn’t look at me once after that. Barely met the Councilor’s gaze. I wonder if Hildebrand is relieved not to have to stand him before The Tribunal. A Bishop. Founding family member and sovereign son plotting the execution of another member of The Society. The IVI justice system is an extreme one. Operating outside the norms of society, somehow above the law. Their punishments often exceed those of the outside world and this particular offense is a death sentence penalty.
In this modern day just a few years ago, an execution was carried out on IVI grounds for a similar offense. Granted, one with consequences that reached farther than Carlton Bishop’s limited imagination could conjure up. A man was executed and although proceedings of The Tribunal are secret, the details circulated among the members of The Society and serve as a warning to all, even Carlton Bishop.
The door closes and I turn to find Zeke watching me.
“Get the outcome you wanted?” he asks.
“What I wanted was for Angelique to have a mother.”
Zeke drinks a sip of whiskey, taking his time. “You’re not the only one who lost her, you know. She was my best friend. More.”
More.
Yeah, I know. Kimberly was more to him once upon a time. Her falling in love with me was not something either of us had planned. Neither had consciously wanted or sought it. But it happened and my brother and I moved past it. I think we did, at least. Although there were some tough months, especially when she started to show.
Zeke and I watch each other as images of the past pass like a slideshow through my mind. Is he thinking the same things? Watching that same slideshow play out? Does he blame me? I blame myself. And hell, maybe I deserve his blame too. She died because of me. He had warned me, too. Being with me wouldn’t be safe for her. Just like I warned Dante Grigori not too long ago that the woman he was in love with was in danger simply for his affection.
“I’m sorry,” I tell Zeke. “Every fucking day.”
“I know.” He drinks another sip and it’s a long time before he speaks. “She’s young.”
Change of topic. He’s talking about Isabelle Bishop.
“An adult,” I clarify.
“Technically. She’s also twelve years your junior.”
“And most importantly, she’s a Bishop.” I swallow the last of my drink and set the tumbler down. “You’re not growing a heart for the Bishops, are you? Overwriting Kimberly’s memory?”
His jaw tightens. “I’m just telling you she’s young and if you didn’t see it, I can also tell you from the few moments I spent in the same room with the girl, that she’s no match for you.”
Something about the comment gets my hackles up. I straighten, step toward him. He narrows his gaze infinitesimally, cocking his head to the side, waiting for my reaction.
“Is she a better match for you, then?” I ask.
“Are you fucking serious?”
“Is that what this is?” I continue. I don’t know why.
“Get your head out of your ass, brother. She’s barely a woman. And I know you. I have some idea what you’re planning.”
“Do you? What am I planning then?”