by Ben Stevens
Stifled gasps and hushed murmurs rippled through the room like waves in a pond, issuing out from the metaphorical stone Libis had just tossed.
“General Miller, is this true?” Councilman Monroe asked.
“Yes. You were not told for a good reason,” Miller said, trying to collect himself. I may still be able to salvage this train wreck. “To put it simply, we didn’t know if the Old Guard, or Umbra and the Harvesters, for that matter, had spies in our ranks. We didn’t, and still don’t know who besides Warbak himself was in on the conspiracy. And clearly, we were right.” Miller pointed at Matiaba and Libis.
“And what is the nature of this mission?” Councilperson Hincit, the only genderless and Displaced member of the body asked.
Miller regarded the turtle-like councilperson and spoke plainly, hoping that honesty at this point might repair the damage Matiaba and his lawyer had wrought. “Maya and her guardians are searching for a secret weapon. A weapon of great power. We believe that this weapon will enable us to defeat the Harvesters when they return to Home.”
“Unbelievable!” Libis blurted out over the hushed conversations re-erupting through the room. “General Miller knows of an attempt to locate a super-weapon and didn’t feel that he needed to share this information with the council. I say.”
“We haven’t had a chance yet!” Miller said, almost pleading at this point, feeling with every spoken exchange the favor of his peers falling further from him. “We are just forming this government!”
“I see, I see,” Libis said, running his fingers down the sides of his glasses again. “Forgive me.”
“I would like to get this tribunal back on track if you don’t mind,” Miller grumbled.
“One more thing,” Libis said. When no one objected, he continued. “When are Maya and her guardians due back from retrieving this super-weapon?”
Miller sat in silence, wishing the question away.
“General Miller?” Councilman Monroe asked.
“They were already expected back. We have lost contact with them…” he conceded, hanging his head.
“I see. Well then, I think that fact leads nicely into my client’s closing statements, then. That is, of course, unless you actually have some evidence to present regarding the last charge. Murder, was it?”
“Mister Libis raises a good point, General. Do you have any evidence at all? For the charge of murder or anything else?” Monroe continued, now seemingly fully caught in the web that Libis and Matiaba had spun.
Miller didn’t say a word, but only continued to look down. He was too tired to rage and fight anymore. He had lost the day.
“No,” Libis answered for Miller. “He does not. Not one shred of actual evidence. Only hate and discontent. Libel. And would you all like to know why you’ve been subjected to this farce? Why my client has been forced to deal with all this? Because it was Mister Matiaba here who, when acting as chief aide to Chairman Warbak, removed then-Sergeant Miller from active duty in the Army and put him into public service, into the kitchens.”
Miller’s head shot up and he stared, slack-jawed, at the lawyer.
What is this? And just when I thought this couldn’t get any worse!
“It’s true, ladies and gentlemen. Miller blames my client for what he sees as his humiliation, a change of assignment that General Miller here has never been able to forgive or forget.”
“General Miller? Is this true?” Monroe asked.
“I swear,” Miller said, sounding tired, “I had no idea.”
“Of course you didn’t.” Libis smirked and plucked a stack of documents off the table and began passing them out to the council. “What you are looking at are copies of the official Republic document recommending Sgt. Miller for re-assignment. Please note the name of the document’s author.”
“Chief Aide Matiaba…” Hincit read aloud.
“I think that after hearing my client’s closing statements, we are done here,” Libis concluded.
After an excruciating minute, Matiaba stood, straightened out his suit jacket and addressed the room.
“Good people of the council. While I am clearly not guilty of the crimes which I have been accused of, I am guilty. Guilty of looking the other way for too long. Guilty of not trying harder to contact the Resistance when I could have, should have. Guilty of putting my own life before the lives of those who suffered under Chairman Warbak. Guilty of cowardice.”
The room was as still as a graveyard. Everyone, even Elena, To-Kan, and Candice, watched and listened in rapt attention.
These punks are good, Miller thought to himself, knowing he had lost. Matiaba would walk.
“I know there is no way for me to redeem myself for these crimes, no way to take back the loss of innocent life that Warbak’s regime caused. But there is a way I can try if you will allow it.”
“We are listening,” Monroe said, gesturing for Matiaba to go on.
“As Chief Aide to Warbak, I was tasked with the lion’s share of the day-to-day operational tasks. While Warbak plotted with demons and tortured people, it was I who actually oversaw the fundamental operations. It was I who actually kept the Ziggurat running.”
Miller, who had given up and had been stewing in his morose defeat, suddenly perked back up. He felt as if his cybernetic parts were malfunctioning and sending jolts of electricity into his flesh.
No. No way. He can’t be serious!
“What is your point, sir?” Monroe asked.
“My point, ladies and gentlemen, is this. If you would allow it, I would like to volunteer my services to you as a fellow council member. I can help you get this city back to running. It would be my honor. It would be my penance.”
Miller sat frozen, knowing that any objection he made at this point would fall on deaf ears. Hating every second of it, wishing to everything in the universe that this was all a bad dream, he watched as Monroe called for a spontaneous vote. Words were spoken, hands were raised. More words spoken, more hands raised. The council voted to make Matiaba a member of the ruling body of Home, six to four.
Maya, if you’re alive, please hurry home!
16
New Puebla was abuzz with rumors and excited preparation. News hawkers and gossipmongers worked to intrigue and titillate the population as tirelessly as the laborers who had been assigned to construct the stage in the town center that would accommodate Lily Sapphire’s first concert in New Puebla. Between the certain knowledge of Lily’s show two days hence and its attendant anticipation, as well as the whispers that New Puebla’s king, Don Luis Fernando, would be taking a new wife, nobody in the city could talk about much else.
Like the proverbial circus that accompanied the bread in countless civilizations before it, pop music and celebrity relationships filled the imaginations and conversations of every tired soul in the city-state, giving every one of them a mental respite from their otherwise bleak existence of repetitive labor and flat futures.
Among the more hushed whispers traded in the human and vampire circles of New Puebla were ones centered on King Fernando’s current wife, Sofia. What was going to happen to her? What did she think of all this? Was she being replaced, or would she have a higher position as wife numero uno? Was Lily going to be a wife or more of a mistress? If mistress, was she Señor Fernando’s alone? Or was Sofia the type of girl to enjoy having a female plaything too? Many suspected she was. And on and on. If there was a variation of the scenario one could imagine, then it was being speculated about over the daily tilling of garden beds, the grinding of maize, the breastfeeding of babies, the quaffing of cerveza and mescal, and the construction of the stage.
As for Don Luis Fernando, he could barely restrain himself. After proposing to Maya and showing her his deepest, darkest secret in the catacombs of his palace, he had escorted her back to her suite and reluctantly parted ways, for dawn was quickly approaching.
Rather than send for her, he returned to her suite the following dusk. Ratt and Lucy kept their distance and di
d their best to behave like the slave chattel that Don Luis would assuredly see them as while Maya received their host.
He behaved as though possessed with an urgent need. He wanted to turn her then and there, demanded even, and then, having been rejected, resorted to begging.
Maya played him like a pro and told him again to wait until the next night; that she wanted to be taken in front of the whole populace, at the climax of her show.
For a brief moment, Maya wondered if Don Luis’s animal urges would overcome his gentlemanly restraint and force her hand. Even with Lucy at her side, she did not think they could easily make their escape from the heart of the city in the dark should they be able to take him, or at the very least, stun him.
And force her hand it would, there was no doubt about it. Luckily for her, Don Luis conceded defeat and promised to abide by her wishes, waiting until the next night.
The two days and nights following Maya’s tour of the city were frantic and busy for Maya and every one of her guardians. Ratt was the busiest of them all. He did his best and proved to be worthy of his position as guardian. Maya occupied the attention of Don Luis while Ratt and Lucy worked tirelessly to “prepare for the concert.”
Jon and Carbine, too, prepared for their role in the grand finale of Lily’s show, though most of their time was filled with the creeping dread-like frustration that comes with waiting for the inevitable. Brave they were, but nervous too. Carbine tried to hide it behind stupid remarks and jokes, but Jon knew his friend too well. On the side of a small mountain overlooking the desert valley and city within, Jon existed in a state of near meditation, trying his best to lull the butterflies in his stomach to sleep with the rhythmic sounds of his deep, slow breaths.
Being unable to communicate back to Maya was the most excruciating part of the entire ordeal. Jon was stressed out, that was for sure, but he could only imagine the trepidation that Maya, Lucy, and Ratt were feeling—wondering, hoping that Jon and Carbine had not only heard their report, subsequent plans, and periodic check-ins, but were prepared to act when the time came to do their part. For if Jon and Carbine dropped the ball, then all would surely be lost, and the show scheduled for the next night would be the last performance Lily Sapphire would ever give, goddess or not.
And so, the time ticked by as uncomfortably as the siesta-inducing heat of a New Puebla summer day.
Of all the different variations of rumors concerning Sofia and her opinion on the king’s taking of a second wife, very few lips whispered anything close to the truth.
Sofia, for all her perversions and hedonistic ways, did not like the situation one bit.
It wasn’t so much that she minded the idea of sharing her man with another woman—they already had done that together many times. She had, as well, without the presence or permission of her husband, taken many playthings to bed, a kinky pastime that most often ended in the deaths of her new friends as well as the sating of her animal appetites. What irritated her was Lily herself. There was just something about her. Sofia hated her. Loathed her. She despised her for being human.
How could a human seduce my husband without even trying?
This was no lust or sexual play, with which Sofia would have been fine. No, this was something else. This pop-tart bitch had captured her man’s heart, it would seem. In this, Sofia found a special edge to her hate.
Sofia hadn’t been happy in a long time, hadn’t ever been happy—not really. But this insult to her queenly pride was too much to bear. She would not suffer the slight. She would dare her imbecile husband to strike her, to retaliate, and then she would make him pay.
Like her husband, she, too, had a vision for New Puebla. One where vampires weren’t executed by sun for the raping and killing of a human. Humans were food and toys, nothing more. A wolf might dominate the sheep, only taking what it needed and allowing the herd to continue, but a cat… A cat played with its food. A cat killed for fun and sport. Cats had been worshiped before, and they would be again. Sofia thought it was time for the ruling of New Puebla to benefit from a woman’s touch.
It was the time of the queen.
Let him drink his little bitch on stage.
She had her loyal men. She would put on a show that would rival Lily Sapphire’s.
A show that no one would ever forget.
“Señorita Sapphire?” the young female assistant asked timidly as she peeked her head into the lavishly ornate green room that Don Luis had built for Maya.
“Yes? Come in,” Maya said into the mirror, continuing to apply her makeup. She was already familiar with the girl and her voice. After his previous rejection in her suite, Don Luis had assigned one of the girls who had bathed her the night before to be Maya’s assistant.
The girl had been tasked with helping to procure and provide anything and everything that “Señorita Sapphire” might need or want.
The girl, whose name was Rose, had been given a royal decree to carry around and present to the various merchants in the city. It gave her great authority and allowed her to speak for the king, at least in regard to her assigned task of assisting Señorita Sapphire. The girl had been overwhelmed with her sudden promotion, her chest swelled with obvious pride, and she performed her job well. Taking into account her current state of mind and her previously shy disposition, Maya saw in her a boon of opportunity. Rose offered no opposition or inquiry into anything that Maya requested, and so she had Ratt put together a shopping list of things they would need for the big surprise finale of Lily Sapphire’s greatest concert. Lucy, for her part, revisited the home of Eduardo, his sisters, and their mother. Without going into too much detail, Lucy explained to Eduardo that the time for revolution would be during the Lily Sapphire show and that he should carefully gather all his like-minded friends and be ready to help out once the dust settled.
The resulting machinations and preparations of Maya’s plan proved to be as smooth as the polished obsidian that decorated the columns inside her royal suite.
“Señorita Sapphire, they are, um… I mean, I have been instructed by Señor Fernando that we are ready for you.” The girl squeaked it out in the manner of a curious, approaching animal, not sure whether the food being offered was merely a trick that would result in its death.
Impatient little man, thought Maya to herself and rolled her eyes. She couldn’t imagine how things must be for Sofia, or what they would be like for her should Maya’s ruse become reality. To be married to such a man, to be owned and dangled, like a piece of jewelry. Even with Maya, she was certain he would be kind only as long as the novelty remained, and then he would grow bored, and with boredom would come the inevitable cruelty.
“Of course. Five more minutes, please,” Maya said in her kindest, most ladylike voice. She observed Rose’s reflection in the mirror and felt sure that Rose had missed the eye-roll, as the timid little thing was staring at her own feet, only halfway through the door of the room. When the girl neither spoke nor moved, Maya added, “In private. Please tell my fiancé that the show will start when I am fully ready, and not a moment sooner.” Maya tried to sound gentle but firm.
She saw Rose’s eyes flicker to the mirror and quickly back down, as was befitting not only her character but her class. The glance had been as fleeting as the affections of Don Luis were sure to be, but Maya had caught the look of terror on the girl's face and recognized it for what it truly was. She instantly regretted her choice of words and realized what a precarious position it would put poor Rose in. Don Luis was as likely to kill the girl in his outrage at Maya’s brazenness as he was to laugh it off and become aroused by his new wife’s sauciness.
“No, not that, Rose. Just tell my Señor Fernando that the show will start in about five minutes. Please tell him that I need to be perfect for him.” Rose looked back up into the mirror with gratitude in her eyes. This gaze into the mirror lingered longer than the first had, and when she saw Maya’s look of affection waiting for her, she smiled and nearly blushed.
“As yo
u wish, Señorita, thank you.” Rose made a quick, jerky, polite bow and left the dressing room, pulling the door shut behind her.
As soon as the door closed, Maya exhaled, and her smile deflated along with her lungs.
Exhausting. Exhausting and nerve-wracking. It will all be over soon, for better or for worse.
She looked at herself in the mirror, looked at the girl behind the makeup and thought about Jon, and also about her late husband. She sat motionless for a solid minute and then finally took a breath as deep as her silent musings. She let it out forcefully through pursed lips.
Well, here goes. We are doing the right thing, aren’t we? It’s worth the risk. Both to us, and the people of New Puebla. It must be done; otherwise, what is the point of any of this?
She gingerly reached down and touched the necklace Ratt had made, hanging around her neck like the mantle of responsibility she and her guardians had taken up two days ago. She ran her fingers along the contours of the inlaid jewel and sent out a wordless prayer.
Then she clutched it and raised it to her mouth.
“Okay, boys. It’s showtime.” Another prayer. She had trusted so much to fate before.
Please let Jon be listening and watching. And please protect him now more than ever.
A knock came at her door, and it opened before she could speak. Lucy.
“My lady, we are ready.”
Maya wondered to herself if Lucy’s heart was as wild as hers. Lucy had always oozed cool, but was that chilly exterior just a defense?
Maya knew this to be true, had seen into the girl’s heart the day they’d met, the day she had freed her the way that they would free the people of New Puebla together tonight. But did Lucy have the same reservations about their plan? Did she worry for Carbine as Maya worried for Jon? Maya knew that Lucy was prepared to die if need be, but Maya wished not to if it was at all possible, and if death was their fate, would Lucy think it had been worth it, as Maya did? Some questions were better left unasked. Maya had only to look into her guardian’s eyes to know that Lucy was content—no, more than that—she was fulfilled to simply serve her lady.
