Chapter 6
By the time Haatim finished speaking, his throat felt dry and exhaustion drained him. He’d talked for almost four hours, recounting the events that had taken place in Raven’s Peak, leading up to the showdown with Belphegor.
The Council members sat around the conference table, staring at him and listening to his story. Occasionally, one of them chimed in with a question or asked for clarification on a point, but for the most part, they allowed him to speak uninterrupted.
He had, originally, planned to tell the entire series of events from when Abigail had found him, hoping it would serve in her favor to have the Council know how she’d rescued him.
Frieda had counseled him against it, however, because those events included the kidnap and meeting with Delaphene, as well as meeting with Sara. Neither of which would help Abigail at all. Haatim didn’t feel comfortable lying about that or trying to dance around the truth, so he’d elected to start with them arriving at the city.
So, he answered things as well as he could, telling the truth about everything. The showdown with Belphegor the only part he did modify slightly. The last few moments of the fight when he’d entered the factory. Instead, he said that he’d stood in the doorway and watched while Abigail took down the demon, and that fear had paralyzed him.
Not so far from the truth.
Silence enveloped the room once he had stopped talking. The other thirteen people stared at him, expressions ranging from annoyed to pensive. A long few minutes passed, and then one of his father’s supporters spoke up.
“Is any of your account verifiable by another source?” Ferris Kollam asked.
Frieda had warned him about Ferris. The old man had brown skin and an owl-like face. He always looked angry about something, and during Haatim’s story, he had asked the most pointed and least useful questions, trying to discredit everything Abigail did and cast a negative light on her actions.
“No one else who would be allowed to give testimony at this trial was present,” Frieda said. “Haatim is our best and only eyewitness.”
“So, we don’t know if any of this is true?”
“We know that it was recounted as faithfully as possible by our only eyewitness,” Frieda said. “The son of a Council member.”
“Eyewitnesses are notoriously bad evidence in a trial,” Ferris said. “And, he himself claims that he felt afraid much of the time. Does not fear sour memories?”
“Yet, when there is no alternative method for acquiring evidence, we would be wise to take the word of an actual witness to the events that transpired rather than mere speculation.”
“Speculation, at least, would not have self-interest. How do we know he isn’t making things up or withholding information for his own purposes?”
“What purposes? What reason could he have for lying about what happened at Raven’s Peak?” Frieda asked.
“Perhaps, he is being coerced, or he simply wants to tell a fantastical story about—”
“Enough,” Aram said, his voice low. “No one in this room will call my son a liar.”
The room fell silent while exchanging glances. Haatim found himself a little surprised and gratified to hear his father defend him, even if they sat on opposite sides.
“All right, then,” Frieda said, after a pause. “Haatim’s testimony has been submitted into evidence. If there are no further objections, we shall move on.”
No one spoke up. Frieda nodded at Haatim, signaling he could leave his place at the table. He stood, stifling a groan, and walked to his corner of the room, from where he could observe. His entire body felt sore, and he couldn’t remember a time when constant pain hadn’t plagued him.
Every day, he woke early, went on a long hike, sparred, did more exercises, and then went to bed. Not given enough time to rest or think or recover. Just a steady and grueling process that felt physically and mentally draining.
His body had grown stronger, but it seemed an incredibly slow process. Dominick focused mostly on low-impact tasks to minimize injuries, and Haatim just did tons of them. Still, it felt like every time he took one step forward, he ended up taking two steps back.
Then again, he’d never slept so well in his entire life.
Luckily, because he had to participate in the trial, held early in the morning, they had skipped out on their hike. At least he had one day to relax.
Haatim, the only outsider allowed into the trial room, had a special dispensation because he also acted as a witness. They hadn’t even allowed Dominick inside, and Haatim wasn’t supposed to share any details outside of the room.
The hotel had filled up with more mercenaries over the last two weeks. They patrolled the outside and surrounding areas and carried heavy weapons, giving it the feel of a military complex. It all had a dystopian feel for Haatim, locked away from civilization.
Add to that the purpose of this trial, deciding life or death for Abigail in, essentially, a space for a corporate gathering, and the image became complete. The weight of what the Council was doing in a hotel conference room felt hard to wrap his head around.
This made the third day of the trial. The first two, they hadn’t allowed him to watch, but Frieda told him they’d gone well. The discussions leaned heavily toward forgiveness and reprimand, and now that he’d given his testimony, he hoped that most people still on the fence would side with Frieda.
After all, Abigail was a hero. No matter how else they described her, she had saved the lives of countless people in Raven’s Peak. He didn’t even need to embellish to prove just how amazing and selfless Abigail was.
“Who is your next witness?” Frieda asked, directing the question at Aram. Apart from Frieda, he made for the only other person actually in the room. The rest had connected remotely through the AR glasses.
“My next witness against Abigail,” Aram said. “Is Delaphene.”
Frieda spoke up immediately, “I move to strike this witness.”
A look of anger flashed across his father’s face. Everyone had heard about what testimony Delaphene would give, but unless they logged it in as evidence, it would serve no purpose.
“She has testimony to give about actions taken prior to Abigail’s entrance to Raven’s Peak.”
“She is a demon,” Frieda said. “On that fact alone, we cannot give her testimony any weight. It is in their nature to lie.”
“I second the motion,” Jun Lee said from across the room. “I have no wish to hear the lies and half-truths of a demon. Even if she did speak the truth, she would have an ulterior purpose.”
“She has damning evidence,” Aram said. “She claims deals were made and could give specifics.”
“Then, are we to make deals with her ourselves to find out what she knows?” Jun asked coolly, meeting Aram’s gaze.
Aram hesitated for a second, just long enough to show his apprehension about this testimony. “She has no reason to lie, and we should allow her to speak.”
“If you cannot prove Abigail’s guilt without this witness, then your case is a smokescreen,” Jun said.
“It will be brought to a vote,” Frieda said. “Those who do not wish to treat with a demon should, at least, be allowed to voice their objections.”
Aram, clearly, didn’t like the proposition, but he also didn’t have any alternatives. He nodded. “Very well. All who would like to hear the testimony of Delaphene about the actions Abigail took against the Council, vote yea.”
A flash came in the middle of the table, and a counter appeared, showing the votes as they poured in from all over the world. It didn’t differentiate who cast the votes but did track them as the voters cast them.
It only took a few seconds to realize that Aram wouldn’t have his way. Overwhelmingly, they voted to dismiss Delaphene’s testimony as evidence.
“The nays have it,” Frieda said, a note of smugness in her tone. “Delaphene and all of her testimony will be struck from the record.”
“Very well,” Aram said. “The Council has spoken.”
“I believe that is all of the evidence that is to be submitted today,” Frieda said. “We will break and pick up in the morning to have more discussions and cast our final vote—”
“One moment,” Aram said. “I have one more piece of evidence I would like to submit, with the Council’s approval.”
Frieda frowned, dismayed with where this had headed.
“You made no mention of this before?”
“It only just came to my attention,” Aram said. “I apologize for the unusual request but feel this evidence necessary to our final deliberations.”
“It was not submitted earlier in the trial,” Frieda said. “So, I do not believe it should be submitted.”
“It is even more important to the nature of this case than Delaphene.”
“What is it?” Frieda said with a cold grin. “Another demon?”
She said it in jest, but it didn’t go over well in the room. At best, she got a few half-smiles, but no one laughed, and one red-headed woman even coughed.
“May we vote to hear the evidence?” Aram said. “With Delaphene removed, I feel it even more important that we show equality in our considerations of each item. I assure you, what I have to show is completely necessary to this trial, and quite compelling.”
“Seconded,” the woman with red hair said, raising her hand. She had a distinct Southern accent and wore a dress that matched her hair. It made her freckles stand out and gave her an unattractive ruddy appearance. Haatim thought that maybe her name was Deborah, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Very well,” Frieda said, wary. Aram had backed her into a corner with no easy way out. “We should vote.”
A second later, the tally began flashing. This one a mirror image of the last, with eleven votes tallied in favor for presenting this new evidence.
Aram smiled at Frieda after the vote finished.
“All of the evidence to this point has included Abigail’s willing opposition to orders from her leader. This evidence will show her complete disregard for her place in the Order and her willingness to disrespect the Council.”
“Please, get to the evidence,” Frieda said, an edge of annoyance in her tone. “Spare us the theatrics.”
Aram ignored her, still addressing the other members of the Council.
“The Council, after the original events of Raven’s Peak when Arthur lost his life, gave Abigail an explicit directive. One of them, to stay away from the children whom Arthur saved that day. We didn’t know what role she might have played in their capture while under demonic possession, and we didn’t want her presence to cause issues with their recovery. Was this not so?”
“It was,” the red-haired woman said. “We all voted for it.”
“Unanimously,” Aram said, now turning to Frieda. “Was it not?”
Frieda hesitated. “Yes, everyone agreed that until we had further information about those events, we should keep Abigail away. But only because we didn’t face the original problem correctly—”
“So.” Aram turned toward the Council. “It would be a direct violation of a Council order if she went to one of those girls, would it not?”
Everyone stared at him, waiting for him to continue. He paused, gloating, and then said, “I have incontrovertible evidence that she ignored such a Council order. Further, she not only visited, but directly interacted with, Sara Heinelman.”
He moved to a table on the side of the room where a laptop sat. As it came to life, so did a television in the corner of the room, showing the screen. Aram tapped a few times and played a video. Haatim recognized it instantly, and his heart sank.
It showed the park he’d gone to with Abigail to see Sara. The view came from up high with a wide-angle lens, and on the screen, he could make out Abigail walking down a park sidewalk.
She stopped in front of a little girl. The image looked unclear, but he knew Sara immediately. On screen, Abigail knelt in front of her, handed her something, and then touched her thumb to the little girl’s forehead.
When she did this, the image on the screen flickered, going out of focus from a disruption. Haatim heard drawn breaths when this happened and knew how damning the evidence would look to someone not there.
Hell, it didn’t look good to him, and he had been distracting children at that time.
It only lasted a few seconds. When the image came back into focus, Abigail looked exhausted and drained, kneeling in front of the little girl and struggling just to keep her balance. Sara felt her forehead and ran off, disappearing out of the frame.
Another few moments passed before Abigail found her feet and staggered off in the other direction, disappearing off-screen as well. When she disappeared from view, Aram stopped the video and turned off the laptop.
A blanket of silence wrapped the entire room as its occupants tried to absorb what they’d just seen. Haatim supposed the only saving grace for him was that it didn’t show him too. At least they didn’t get to see his pathetic and creepy attempt to distract the children so Abigail could have that moment alone with Sara.
Finally, Jun spoke up, “This action is clearly in direct violation of our orders.” He addressed Frieda. “Did you know of this?”
Frieda hesitated, which Haatim knew further damned her. She looked about to lie but changed her mind. “One of my Hunters, monitoring the children, informed me,” Frieda muttered. “However, when that report came in, we also noted that the link had severed and the scar on her forehead healed. Our doctors proved unable to achieve such a result after months of work.”
“It doesn’t matter what our doctors were or were not able to do,” Aram said, savoring the moment. “This was not her decision to make. Nor yours in keeping it from the Council.”
Frieda didn’t respond, keeping her face passive, but Haatim could see the cauldron of emotions raging. He thought to bring up the fact that his father had known about this as well, so why did he withhold the information until now except to get as much impact out of it as possible?
However, that wouldn’t help Frieda or Abigail. The damage done, their only hope now lay in the fact that this new evidence wouldn’t make too much to overcome in a final vote.
Surely, even with this new information, it wouldn’t offer enough to punish someone with death, right?
“That is the last of my evidence,” Aram said. “Do you have anything else to present for the defense?”
Frieda didn’t respond except to stare at him. Haatim just felt glad that she aimed her look at his father and not himself.
Aram seemed to have a similar feeling. His smile faded, and he looked a little uncomfortable.
“Very well,” he said. “We will reconvene in the morning for our final vote on the matter. Thank you, everyone.”
“She just stormed out?” Abigail asked.
“As soon as my father finished speaking and dismissed everyone, she ran out of the room. I’ve never seen her so angry.”
“I have,” Abigail said. “But usually directed at me.”
Haatim smiled. They sat in Abigail’s room, him in an armchair, and her on the edge of her bed. He came by every day, at least for a little while, filling her in on what happened outside the walls of her little prison. Continually, she asked him about how the trial went, but this made the first time he could give her an actual answer.
The Council would be angry if they knew he’d told her about it, but he didn’t care.
“You seem to be doing well,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” she said. “It’s nice having the trial underway. For better or worse, at least I’ll have an answer.”
“Tomorrow,” he said. “I can’t believe it’s here already.”
“I know.”
“It must have been a nightmare just waiting around like this. People making such a huge decision about your future, and you can’t even be involved in it.”
“You have no idea,” Abigail said. “Don’t get me wrong; I definitely would prefer getting good news tomorrow.”
“Unless they find you guilty,” Haatim said.
“Yeah. Unless that.”
“They won’t,” Haatim said. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I met several of the Council members today. They seem like genuinely good people, who want to help others, not hurt them. I’m confident that they will realize we live in a more beautiful world with you in it than if you weren’t.”
As soon as he spoke the words, he realized how sappy and romantic they sounded. Abigail, however, either didn’t notice or chose not to point it out.
“I hope you’re right,” she said. “I knew going to see Sara was a bad idea, but I don’t regret doing it. I needed to know.”
“I get it,” Haatim said, unsure if he agreed with her—not in a million years would he have acted against the Council the way she did—but, at the very least, he could respect her decisions. Beyond impressed by her willingness to stand up for what she believed in, he would have liked that trait in himself.
But, he had enough honesty to know that he wasn’t made of the same stuff. He worried too much about what people thought of him to act so unilaterally.
“Thank you,” Abigail said. “For coming to visit and keeping me company. It’s miserable not knowing what’s going on, and I’m grateful that you’re willing to put up with me.”
“Always,” Haatim said. “Only one more day to worry, and then you’ll be free once again.”
“You’ll be back tomorrow?”
“Of course,” he said. “As soon as the trial is over. I can’t wait for the opportunity to come and tell you that you’re innocent!”
She smiled at him, but a sad smile. They sat in comfortable silence until a knock came at the door. A few seconds later, Dominick poked his head into the room.
“Ready to go?” he asked Haatim.
“Go where?”
“Hiking,” Dominick said.
Haatim groaned. “Now?”
Dominick grinned. “Oh, buddy, do I have something special in store for you,” he said. “Meet me outside in two minutes.”
Then he disappeared. Haatim sighed.
“Sounds fun,” Abigail said, chuckling. “Wish I could go.”
“I wish you could, too,” he said. “Instead of me.”
“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad?”
“I’ve never felt so tired in my entire life. I feel like one of those stuffed chew toys you give to your dog and it flails around with it.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Dominick.”
“It’s freezing outside,” he said. “Snow isn’t my thing.”
“Mine either,” she said. “At least, I get to stay inside where it’s nice and toasty.”
Haatim laughed. “You’re mean.”
Abigail smiled. “You might hate it now, but Dominick is one of the best people I’ve ever met. If anyone can help you learn how to take care of yourself, it’s him.”
“Yeah,” Haatim said. “That’s what Frieda keeps telling me. In fact, every time I have to do something crappy, everyone tells me that, one day, I’ll look back on it as a learning experience and feel grateful it happened.”
Abigail shrugged. “It builds character?”
“Why can’t sitting around and eating a tub of ice cream build character?”
“It does,” Abigail said. “But only if you’re lactose intolerant.”
Haatim chuckled. “True. I better not keep Dominick waiting. I’ll be back tomorrow as soon as the trial is over.”
“Okay,” Abigail said. “I look forward to it.”
“It’ll be good news.” Haatim headed for the door. “I promise.”
Abigail smiled again but still didn’t believe him completely. “Sounds good,” she said.
He headed out into the hall to meet Dominick, praying he had it right about the trial. He didn’t know what he would do if they found her guilty.
“How much farther?”
“Only a little,” Dominick said. “Stick with it.”
Every time they crested one hill, another waited for him on the other side. Haatim felt convinced that Dominick was just leading them in circles, always pretending like they were on their way back to the Council hotel but secretly leading him further away.
Probably to kill him. By now, he couldn’t feel sure of anything. They’d stayed out here for hours, at least twice as long as their normal forays.
Light snow fell, which meant he couldn’t prove or disprove his theory by using their tracks. Everywhere he looked, a fresh dusting of snow covered everything, and it all looked the same. Mountains, hills, and valleys all around.
These mountains aren’t beautiful, he decided, revoking his earlier opinion on the matter. They are evil and terrible.
His lips had frozen, his cheeks felt like he could scrape them off, and his eyes as if they’d iced into his skull. Cloudy and dark one moment, the sun would peek through the clouds and threaten to blind him the next. It reflected off the snow and made it impossible to see until it went away once more.
Dominick had a pair of sunglasses but hadn’t brought any for Haatim. The lesson, he’d informed Haatim a few hours earlier, was always prepare for anything.
Right now, Haatim felt sure the lesson was never to trust Dominick.
“How much farther?”
“Two kilometers,” Dominick said. “It’s getting late, so this time, I mean it.”
If Haatim could have run forward and punched Dominick, he would have. The problem was, he didn’t have enough energy.
“I don’t think I can go any more,” Haatim said, stumbling down to his knees. His winter clothing hung heavy, and drenched in sweat now, it froze solid when the temperature dropped. It felt like he carried an extra kilo of body weight.
“Sure you can,” Dominick said. “The alternatives are either stop here and build an igloo or die.”
“You could carry me.”
“This is about teaching you how to survive,” Dominick said. “If you can’t make it on your own, then it defeats the entire purpose.”
“That’s why we form into cultures,” Haatim said. “So people can survive as groups.”
“Your group is yourself for today. The only person you can ever count on is the same one that looks you in the mirror each and every morning. You need to test your limits and push past them. That’s what we’re doing. Trial by fire.”
Haatim grumbled, “I don’t see any fire. Quite the opposite.”
“Would you like me to add fire to this exercise?” Dominick asked.
Haatim tried to imagine the myriad of terrible ways in which Dominick could torture him further using a torch.
“No,” he said. “I’m fine.”
“We’re almost back. I won’t push you more than you can go. Think about something else. Distract your mind and let your muscles do the work.”
“What else is there to think about?”
“How beautiful it is out here.”
“It’s just hills, mountains, and trees,” Haatim said. “It stopped being beautiful hours ago.”
“Think about a beach in Tahiti.”
“Escapism has never been my thing,” Haatim said. “I can imagine the beach, sure, but I imagine it being just as cold as these stupid mountains.”
“Then focus on Abigail,” Dominick said. “Tell me about her trial. They allowed you to observe today. Give me some clues about what’s going on.”
“Frieda hasn’t told you?”
“I’m not in the loop,” Dominick said. “She’s too busy.”
He couldn’t imagine how it would help, but he’d try regardless. It couldn’t make things worse.
“They talked for about an hour, and then I gave testimony,” Haatim said. “Told them about Raven’s Peak.”
“Oh? What’d they think?”
Haatim shrugged. “No clue. They aren’t exactly the most responsive crowd.”
Dominick burst out laughing. “You can say that again,” he said. “It’s like talking to a brick wall, except the brick wall might get more done.”
“The meeting didn’t end well, though,” Haatim said, and then told him about the video. “It didn’t look good.”
Dominick fell quiet for a minute. They walked through the snow for a while, plodding along. The only sound came from Haatim’s heavy breathing as he tried to keep pace with Dominick.
“Abigail has always been impulsive,” Dominick said. “She decides to do something, and then she does it before she can stop and realize how foolish her plan is. It’s one of the things that makes her so good at her job. She’s confident.”
Haatim chuckled. “Boy, do I know that.”
“And reckless. The Council has had it out for her for a long time. This is just the culmination of years of work from Aram. I just wish she hadn’t given them the impetus to actually do it.”
They walked for a while longer, cresting another hill and climbing down into another valley. More trees, more hills. Haatim bit back his desperation, not sure how much farther his body could go. He’d never experienced so much exhaustion in his entire life or felt so broken.
“I used to be jealous of her,” Dominick said.
“Why?”
“Arthur trained her.”
“I’ve heard about him,” Haatim said. “But I don’t know much. He was Abigail’s mentor?”
“That, and a lot more. It’s hard to explain just how influential he proved to the Council. I’m a normal guy. In better shape than most, tough, and I can handle my own. But Arthur, he was something else.”
“What do you mean?”
“He would charge headlong into a building full of enemies and win. He always stood up for the right, even going toe to toe with Council members if they got out of line. Hunters never do that because they have the power to turn everything against us. If things hadn’t happened as they did, Arthur would have been on the Council in only a few more years.”
“What happened?” Haatim asked. “No one will give me a straight answer.”
Dominick stopped walking, frowning. He looked at Haatim. “Ever hear the expression that the men with the greatest strengths also have the greatest flaws?”
Haatim shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose.”
“Arthur lost it. He lost control. An incident happened, and he killed a lot of innocent people. To this day, I have no idea what happened or why he did it. I think he just … snapped.”
“He murdered people?”
“A lot of them,” Dominick said. “That’s why they locked him in that black-site prison. A lot of the Council wanted to have him executed instead. I bet you can guess which Council member pushed for that.”
“My father,” Haatim said.
“Bingo. But they couldn’t do it. You don’t murder Superman, even when he turns evil.”
“But, he trained Abigail?”
“He never trained anyone before her. Kept to himself and did his thing. Abigail proved different, and I always felt jealous that she got trained by the best.”
“Did you and she ever …?”
Dominick glanced over at him. “Date?”
“Yeah,” Haatim said. “I’m sorry, that’s way too personal.”
“Yes, it is,” Dominick said. “It’s fine, though. Abigail isn’t the dating type. Too independent. I guess that’s what makes her so appealing.”
Haatim hesitated, realizing that Dominick hadn’t given him a straight answer. He knew better, however, than to push the issue.
“What’s that?” Haatim pointed ahead. Hard to tell, but it looked like smoke.
“I told you,” Dominick said. “We’re just about here. Top of this hill, and then we’re in the final stretch.”
They crested the top of the next rise, and the hotel sat in the distance. Only a few hundred meters ahead now, tucked into the mountainside.
Haatim stumbled forward. “Thank God.”
“Only a little longer. Don’t press. Just focus on keeping up this same pace, and we’ll get there.”
Haatim ignored him, practically running now. He could imagine the heat pouring over him when he stepped into the lobby. It would feel so good once he made it back to his room and could take a nice hot bath and order room service and …
His foot slipped on a sheet of ice hidden under the snow. He fell onto his butt and rolled down the hill, bouncing painfully along the ground and getting snow inside his coat and clothing.
He landed deep in a snowdrift on his back, staring up at the sky. Behind and above him, up the rise, Dominick laughed raucously.
His entire body hurt, and he felt too exhausted even to stand. He tried to roll out of the snow, but it had packed tight, and he could barely move.
Dominick appeared overtop him, blocking out the sky and smiling.
“You got yourself nice and stuck, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” Haatim said, reaching his hand up. “Can you help me out?”
Dominick laughed. “Nope. I’ll see you back at the hotel.”
Then he turned and set off walking. Haatim struggled to pull himself loose. More snow found its way into his clothes each time he shifted.
“Trial by fire, Haatim,” Dominick called, disappearing from Haatim’s view toward the hotel. “Trial by fire.”
It took another thirty minutes for Haatim to make it to the hotel and into the lobby, and by the time he did, his entire body ached and tingled. Never had he felt so cold or weak, and his entire body shook from the chill. He needed to get out of these clothes.
Haatim tracked snow through to the elevator and pressed the button. With no Dominick in the lobby, just this once, he’d ride up. If ever a time had come when he needed to bend the rules and cut a corner, this was it.
He stood there, rubbing his hands and blowing on them. The heat of the room enfolded him. Glorious. He couldn’t wait to warm his body with a nice, long bath.
The elevator dinged, and the door slid open. Dominick stood there, leaning against the wall. He’d changed clothes and looked like he’d warmed up already.
“No elevators,” Dominick said. “You know the rules.”
Haatim groaned. “There have to be exceptions.”
“No exceptions.” Dominick pointed toward the stairwell.
“It’s five flights!”
“Then, you’d better get a move on.”
Haatim stared at him for a second, grumbled a few unmentionable words, and walked to the stairs. He trekked up slowly, putting one foot in front of the other, up each flight. His body screamed in agony, and when he finally made it to his room, he felt so exhausted that nausea rolled through him.
By the bed, he peeled off his sodden clothes, letting them fall to the floor around him, and staggered to the restroom. Then he ran water into the tub and dipped himself in, letting out a long sigh.
Haatim lay in the water for almost an hour, soaking his tired muscles and staring up at the ceiling. He couldn’t remember any time in his life that he’d ever gotten so beaten down physically.
But, it had a good side, too. Being this tired released endorphins he wasn’t used to experiencing, and lying in the warm water gave him one of the most pleasant experiences he’d had in a long time.
After an indeterminate amount of time, a knock sounded on the door. At some point, the sun had set, and the room had grown almost completely dark. Haatim grabbed a towel before checking through the peephole.
Dominick. Of course.
“One second,” Haatim called, rushing over and throwing on a shirt and shorts before opening the door.
“Get warmer clothes on. We’re off to the city to have dinner. Five minutes, in the lobby.”
Then he turned and headed down the hall before Haatim could reply. Quickly, he changed, putting on dry winter clothes. He felt refreshed from the bath, but at the same time, his body was weak, and he staggered everywhere.
Also, however, he felt half-starved, and the idea of getting hot food sounded fantastic.
When he made it to the lobby, Dominick waited for him. He looked chipper and excited as if they hadn’t just hiked for hours through knee-deep snow.
“How do you feel?” he asked, as they headed outside.
“Broken,” Haatim said. “My legs feel like I’m walking on rubber.”
“You’ll sleep well tonight,” Dominick said.
“I’m sure I will,” Haatim said.
They climbed into Dominick’s sedan and headed out to the road. The twenty-minute drive, made longer by the packed snow on the roads, took them into late evening, and the city lights came on.
They drove to an expensive restaurant near the center of town, the sort of fine dining establishment that Haatim had only been to a handful of times.
“We’re eating here?”
“It’s a special occasion,” Dominick said. “Come on.”
They walked into the establishment. Haatim felt woefully underdressed for this, wearing jeans and a brown overcoat. Dominick went through the restaurant, nodding at the man behind the counter, and headed for a specific table.
“If he asks,” Dominick said as they walked. “We work as technical consultants for a company called Central Development Agency.”
“What?”
“CDA. Remember it. And, we’ve been here for two weeks working on a Capital Expense project. We’re developing a web application for tracking employee timesheets. Got it?”
“What are you talking about?”
Dominick ignored him, striding ahead just as a man in a business suit stood at a table in the center of the room. He had dark skin and a shaved head with a goatee and brown eyes. Dominick smiled, stepped forward, and embraced the man in an affectionate hug.
“Hey, hun,” the man said, squeezing Dominick tight before letting him go. Dominick shifted to the side between the man and Haatim, holding up his hand toward Haatim and glancing back and forth at them.
“Allow me to introduce you two,” Dominick said. “Marvin, this is Haatim. We work together. Haatim, this is Marvin. My husband.”
It took Haatim a few seconds to regain his composure before he reached out and accepted Marvin’s extended hand. Neither man noticed his pause. Or, at least, they were gracious enough to pretend not to.
“It’s a pleasure,” Haatim said.
They took their seats at the table, Haatim on one side and Dominick on the other, beside his husband.
“I thought you would make me wait all night,” Marvin said to Dominick. “I worried that you’d cancel on me.”
“It’s been crazy at work,” Dominick said, picking up a bottle of wine from an ice bucket and filling his and Haatim’s glasses. “Several projects coming due all at once. We can hardly keep up with it, right?”
Haatim, looking at his menu, took a second to realize Dominick sat staring at him. His eyebrow raised as he poured amber liquid into Haatim’s glass.
“Oh yeah,” Haatim said. “Ridiculous. My boss works me to the bone.”
Marvin laughed. He had a full laugh, disarming and pleasant, and Haatim found himself joining in.
“The crazy life of a software developer. I don’t envy you guys.”
“Marvin, here, is a doctor,” Dominick said. “So, he naturally distrusts computers.”
“Not the computers,” Marvin said. “Just the people trying to use them. He said your name was Haatim, right?”
“Yes,” Haatim said. “That’s me.”
“Dominick has told me so much about you,” Marvin said. “It’s nice to put a face to the name.”
Haatim looked over at Dominick in surprise. “He has?”
“Yes.”
“What sort of things?”
“Only good things,” Dominick said, grinning. “I don’t tell him the whole truth.”
Marvin laughed again, shaking his head. The waiter came by and took their orders. Haatim couldn’t help himself, he ordered the half-chicken, crab cakes, mussels, and a sharable portion of mashed potatoes just for himself. He also eyed the desserts, figuring he would still have an appetite after his meal.
Once the waiter had disappeared, they engaged in pleasantries. Most of the time, Marvin spoke with Dominick, asking about work and talking about the crazy weather since he’d arrived in Lausanne, but occasionally, one of them would turn and address a question or comment to Haatim.
He tried to follow the conversation as best he could, nodding and answering questions with the shortest and most mundane of answers he could. He knew nothing about writing software or tracking timesheets, but clearly, Dominick knew quite a bit.
The wine made Haatim feel loose and relaxed, and when the food arrived, he ate as fast as he could. He cleaned up his entire plate. Marvin watched him with fascination.
“And I thought only Dominick had such an appetite,” Marvin said. Haatim paused, slurping a mussel in one hand and holding a chunk of bread in the other. “Do all software developers eat like the two of you?”
“Only the talented ones.” Dominick bit into his steak. He smirked and winked at Haatim.
By the end of it, Haatim declined the dessert. Not because he wasn’t still hungry, but because it would have embarrassed him to eat so much food and then finish off an entire dessert alone. Dominick paid for the meal, they said their goodbyes, and then he ushered Haatim to the exit and out to the car.
During the drive back, the exhaustion set in, and a heaviness fell over Haatim. He yawned, glad Dominick drove and not himself.
“Your husband seems nice,” he said.
Dominick nodded. “He is. We’ve been married four years, and I’m usually able to get positions closer to home. It’s not every day something crazy comes up like the trial of one of my closest friends.”
“Seemed like it was supposed to be a date,” Haatim said.
“It was,” Dominick said. “Marvin came to visit for the weekend and wanted to do something special.”
“That’s weird.” Haatim shook his head.
“What? That he wanted to see me?” Dominick asked with an amused smile.
“No,” Haatim said. “That it’s the weekend. I forgot what day it was.”
Dominick chuckled. “Hard to keep track when every day is the same.”
“Why did you bring me?”
“Backup,” Dominick said. “I hate lying to him, but there are some things I just can’t tell him. I’ve been so preoccupied with worrying about Abigail that I needed to add a distraction. He won’t ask quite as many questions when we have company. He heads back home tonight.”
“He was okay with me coming along?”
“I told him you were lonely, and I felt sorry for you. He was totally fine with it, and I have to say, you played your part perfectly.”
“You told him about me?”
“I told him you were a Java developer with an emphasis on full stack integration,” Dominick said. “The sort of thing no one understands outside of certain company. This way, he wouldn’t ask you any tough questions.”
“How do you know so much about computers?”
Dominick shrugged. “A hobby.”
They drove the rest of the way in silence, and at some point, Haatim must have dozed off. Dominick tapped him on the shoulder to wake him.
“We’re here.”
Haatim grunted in response, staggering out of the car. The cold wind felt bracing on his skin, waking him fully. He shivered and headed inside. Halfway to the elevator, he let out a huge sigh and turned, instead, for the stairs.
Dominick chuckled behind him. “Good. You’re learning.”
“Have I told you yet, today, that I hate you?”
“Nope,” Dominick said. “Get some sleep. Big day tomorrow. We’ll get exercises in before the trial starts to help limber up your muscles. Helps with the recovery.”
“Great,” Haatim said. “Just what I wanted.”
“Don’t worry; that’s the big hike. It’ll get easier from here.”
Haatim didn’t know whether or not to believe him.
He leaned toward not.
Haatim sighed again, heading into the stairwell and staggering up the stairs. His body cried out in agony with each step, but somehow, he made it up to his room and inside.
There, he collapsed face first on the bed, fully clothed, and fell asleep in seconds.
“We’ve heard the testimony from my son about the events that took place at Raven’s Peak,” Aram addressed the Council members gathered around the table. “I will not dispute that her actions were heroic and that she showed willing to risk her life for the sake of saving others, including my son.”
From his corner of the room, Haatim watched his father, nervous about the fact that one of the most important chairs sat empty—well, emptier than normal, considering the AR glasses and digital connection.
Frieda’s chair remained conspicuously empty. She hadn’t answered her cell phone. Haatim hadn’t heard from her all morning, and this on the last day of the trial with them set to cast their final votes.
A task his father seemed in a hurry to do. They’d told Haatim that he wouldn’t be allowed to speak during this meeting, but could watch.
“However, we also saw the video of Abigail’s indiscretion with Sara Heinelman in which she disobeyed a direct order from the Council. This was not the first time, nor even the second, that she made a mockery of our decisions. Her willful disobedience has gotten out of hand, and the question here today is whether or not we can ever trust her again.”
Haatim wanted, desperately, to speak up and remind them that this wasn’t a vote about slapping Abigail on the wrist. The vote held much more importance, and his father tried to downplay the responsibility.
“The Council had their concerns about Abigail when she was a child. They worried about what sort of person she might grow into. They wondered what sort of corruption might manifest itself. Many of you were present during those days, and you remember that the machinations that kept her alive were not based on reality or facts.
“We keep giving Abigail more chances to redeem herself, and every time, she throws them back in our faces. This sort of behavior can become infectious and create a cancer in our organization if left unchecked. I, for one, feel it is time we checked this behavior and did the necessary to assure the future of this Council.”
“Perhaps, we should await Frieda’s presence to cast our votes,” Jun Lee said. “This isn’t a decision about what sort of takeout we’re going to order.”
“And where is Frieda?” Aram asked. “Have you spoken with her?”
“I have not,” Jun said. “She has not answered any of my messages.”
“It seems she is too busy to be bothered with this trial,” Aram said.
“An unfair characterization,” Jun said. “Perhaps, she has other issues to attend to.”
“What issues might these be?” Aram asked. “I know of no other issues more important than this.”
“Perhaps, a pressing issue only just presented itself. I feel we should postpone this vote until Frieda is present.”
“I can go look for her,” Haatim blurted out. Everyone in the room turned to look at him, and many of them wore angry expressions.
“No,” the red-headed woman said. “I agree with Aram. We scheduled this meeting, and at an inconvenient time for many of us. If Frieda chooses not to attend, that is her prerogative, but we will not hold back on our vote to accommodate one person. I recommend that we move the vote forward and cast it immediately.”
The room fell silent for a minute, and then Jun Lee said, “Your actions feel deliberate.”
“Your tone sounds accusatory,” Aram said. “I am not the one who chose today to make myself unavailable.”
“This isn’t justice,” Jun Lee said. “I refuse to vote until all Council members are accounted for.”
“That is within your rights,” Aram said. “But, I am in charge of this meeting. All in favor of casting our final votes now rather than postponing?”
Everyone shifted and cast their votes. A tally flashed up: seven for, five against. Only Frieda’s vote remained unaccounted for.
“Wait,” Haatim said, standing up. “This isn’t fair. A decision so important shouldn’t be handled like this!”
“That is the second time you’ve interrupted,” Aram said, staring pointedly at Haatim. “It will not happen again.”
Haatim opened his mouth to speak again, and then changed his mind. He sat down and bit back an angry sigh.
Where the hell are you, Frieda? What the hell is so important that you’re missing this?
“It is agreed,” Aram said, addressing the room. “We will now cast our votes for the future of Abigail Dressler.”
“Who sent them there?” Frieda asked.
“I don’t know,” Martha said.
“What the hell were they doing in France?”
“I can find no record. Ma’am, you must go to the Council meeting.”
“I will, as soon as we sort this out,” Frieda said. “If this was Aram, I’ll finally have what I need to bring him down.”
“You think he did this?”
“Who else?”
“We have no evidence.”
“Nothing direct,” Frieda said. “But, certainly enough to justify looking more closely.”
Frieda sat in her room with her assistant. Jim Fronson and Michael Epplinger had been out of contact for the last few days, suspicious on its own, but now she stared at images of their dead bodies in the streets of Paris. Murdered in gruesome fashion and left for the authorities to find.
Jim lay torn apart, and Michael hung from a balcony in an alleyway, his abdomen torn open to spill his intestines. Whoever had done this didn’t just want the two men dead; they wanted to send a message.
Neither Jim nor Michael was supposed to be on a mission right now, yet both had drawn from their mission funds and organized a flight to and from Paris on a private jet. The most confusing part was that their flight to Paris listed two passengers, and the flight back added a third. No other information showed as logged about the trip, nor a signoff of approval from any Council member.
Which meant someone had gone behind her back and sent these Hunters on a mission. What worried her the most? The fact that a Council member had acted to control her Hunters without permission? Or the fact that Jim and Michael had gone along with it and disobeyed her?
“You need to get to the meeting,” Martha said. “It is the last day of the trial, and Abigail needs your support.”
“The trial will need to be postponed,” Frieda said. “Or dismissed completely. This is significantly more important. Two Hunters are dead, Martha, and someone is actively working against us. We have a traitor in our midst.”
“We still can’t prove it.”
“Not yet,” Frieda said. “But I will still enjoy watching Aram squirm when I bring this information to the Council’s attention. His time is nearly through.”
She strode out of the room and down the hall. The Council meeting had been scheduled to start twenty minutes ago, but they would, probably, still be discussing and deliberating and waiting for her to show up.
Their deliberations would end, however, when she brought this to their attention. Even if she couldn’t find a way to tie it to Aram, it would be enough to turn a lot of his supporters to her side.
But that wasn’t the only problem.
Frieda didn’t think that Aram would work against the Council. Sure, he was self-centered and prone to manipulating things to serve his agenda, but he’d always been a loyal member. She couldn’t imagine him working actively against their interests, and he had someone in Paris he was searching for.
Who, and why?
She needed answers.
Frieda burst into the Council meeting in a rush, determined to take control and get her answers. She knew immediately, however, that something had gone terribly wrong.
Aram, seated at the end of the table, wore a smug expression. Haatim sat in the corner, looking worried and depressed.
Martha appeared beside her, handing her a pair of AR glasses. She put them on, and the rest of the Council appeared around the table. They had various expressions of happiness and anger on their faces.
“Frieda,” Aram said. “So good of you to finally show up.”
“We have a problem,” she said. “Someone is acting without the authority of the Council.”
“What do you mean?” Jun Lee asked.
“Two Hunters were sent to Paris a few days ago, and now both are dead.”
“Who sent them?”
“It wasn’t logged,” Frieda said. “So, it could be anyone.”
The Council members murmured and looked at each other. Frieda tapped a few times on her tablet and transmitted the images to all of them, showing the brutal images of Jim and Michael. The murmuring intensified.
“What assignment were they on?” a Russian woman named Vasilisa asked. “What were they doing in Paris?”
“Nothing was reported,” Frieda said. “Neither of them was on assignment, yet both of them requested a private jet and planned on bringing something back with them.”
“Back where?”
“To here,” Frieda said.
“The only Council members out there are you and Aram,” Jun Lee said.
“Perhaps, a mistake?” Aram said.
Frieda glanced at him. He looked at the images in horror. His face grew pale, and she knew, instantly, that she had it right. He had sent them and hadn’t expected this outcome.
“No mistake. Council funds were approved and used, and now two men lay dead. Whoever did this has betrayed us completely and will have to answer for their crimes to the Council.”
A hush fell over the room. Frieda wheeled on Aram.
“We must suspend the trial until after this is taken care of. Perhaps, it will shed some light on the truth about what’s been going on and help in Abigail’s defense.”
No one responded, and Frieda realized from the silence that events had moved faster than she.
Jun spoke up, “Apologies, Frieda, but we have already cast the vote. Abigail’s fate has been decided.”
“Decided?” She looked around at the Council in bewilderment. “What has been decided?”
Another hesitation, and then Jun said, “She is to be executed.”
“Then, it needs to be stopped!” she said. “Is it scheduled for the morning? We can cast a vote to revert the decision until all of this is sorted out.”
This time, Aram spoke up, cowering meekly in his chair and tugging at the collar of his shirt. He cleared his throat. “I’ve already dispatched Hunters to carry out the sentence.”
Frieda froze, completely shocked by the information. She stared at Aram for a few seconds, and then said, “You pathetic coward.”
Then, she took off the glasses and threw them onto the table. Next, Frieda sprinted out of the room and down the hall. Haatim ran behind her, as they dashed for Abigail’s room.
“You won’t make it in time,” Aram shouted from behind.
Frieda prayed he had it wrong.
