“It’s time,” I say again.
Finally—finally—he gives a small, tight nod.
Chapter25
It’s All Made Up
By the end of the night, the council has already distributed the bonuses, for our sector, and we’ve been ushered into a smaller venue for what they’re calling an “open session.”
“In the spirit of transparency, Sector Two has a tradition of keeping council meetings open. Though they’ve never had quite this much attendance.” Council member in resplendent red eyes circle the room. The place is packed, restless. “So uh… Thank you all for your civic engagement,” he says with polished irony.
The atmosphere shifts the moment Ben’s brother stands. Micheal’s movements are smooth but coiled tight with malice.
“Iku, make your case.” Red councilmember said.
“As you know,” Michael begins, “the current line of succession goes from my loving father to my brave brother and then to me.” He pauses—just long enough to make sure the weight of his words lands. “But, lately, my brother, Ben, has behaved in ways that endanger our society. I’d like to introduce a motion for a vote ofnon compos mentisfor Ben Iku.”
The room doesn’t erupt in gasps like some overwrought radiocast drama. No, this has the slow, sour scent of something expected. There’s a shifting of bodies, a murmur beneath the surface. This isn’t news. This is harvest. They’ve been planting these seeds for months.
My heart sinks. Ben may not even stand a chance.
“But not to worry,” Michael continues, wearing the smuggest smirk I’ve ever wanted to punch off a face, “the company has other capable leaders who understand that the future of Sector Two depends on steady hands. With Lily—whose family oversees lifesaving medical centers and weapons of defense—by my side, we’re unstoppable.”
Council members exchange glances. A few subtle nods. All except Ben’s grandfather, whose out-of-date mods creak and clank as he pushes himself to the front of the table. He looks like something dragged up from the ashes, not the head of a dynasty.
“My son, rest his soul, chose my successor,” he says. “And he has chosen correctly. Or should we examineallour behavior from thirty years ago?”
The room stills.
“Grandfather—” Michael tries, but the old man cuts him off.
“Be that as it may, Ben isn’t a young man anymore. In fact, he was the youngest to undergo the dampener protocol in our history. He doesn’t have that excuse.
“Still,” the old man says, voice wheezing but sharp, “a vote ofnon compos mentisrequires two close character witnesses. And it can’t be you,” he says, staring directly at Michael, “or anyone else on the council.”
A flicker of hope flares in me.
Michael doesn’t miss a beat. “We anticipated that,” he says smoothly. “I’d like to invite Joshua M. to speak on his encounters with Ben Iku.”
Josh?
My heart drops through the floor. I thought he came for us. I thought he came forme. Why do I never anticipate the twist of his knife until it’s already buried?
He slithers up to the front like he’s just been handed a winning lottery ticket. He looks out of place—so wrong here—and yet so convinced he belongs. He coughs into the mic, eyes cast downward like he’s doing us all the favor of his humility.
“Thank you for letting me speak my truth,” he says, his voice thick with that soft, sour tone of mock sincerity. “I’m sorry to shock you all, but Fawl has always been…well, a bit sexually deviant.”
His eyes skim the room, checking for reactions. He’s playing a role—again. Trying to steal the only dream I’ve ever had—again.
“During our…yearly intercourse,” he says, the room tensing at the phrase, “she’d ask for bizarre things. Hair pulling, nipple play, even…biting. So, when I realized she’d offered herself up as a skin bride to Ben, I was nervous.”
Beside me, Ben shifts—tenses. His body trembles with rage. I press my hand to his hip, silently begging him not to rise, not yet. Let them show themselves. Let them dig their own graves.
Josh’s voice keeps going, dripping with implication, casting me as something grotesque and depraved.
And then he doubles down.
“I first saw Fawl aboveground at a restaurant in the half city. She was being rushed to the hospital with bite marks on her shoulder. I commed her constantly to see if she was okay. But Ben picked up. He invited himself over for dinner. And once we were sitting, he started some kind of sick ritual. Began with her finger. I told him I didn’t want that in my house. And then—Ben admitted to cannibalistic behavior, which, as you know, was outlawed in the new constitution over seventy years ago.”
