Trying To Heal

Chapter Thirty-One

Derek

It is so engrossing how quickly people lose esteem for you. The guests have forgotten within minutes that Cyril is a paramount man. I suspect it is what you have done that regulates estimation. Carlyle, for one, constructed this city and is still honoured in apocalypses. The Azrael are aware that Luke is the Allfather, even though they are constantly reminiscing about their Allmother. How she could have done it better. What could she do to make it better? And so on.

It is so interesting how quickly people loathe you. I have caught several disgusted glares directed at Aunt Marlene. She is on the first floor's balcony, nattering to Wilmer and Thomas. Her gown for the ball is sapphire-blue silk oscillating at her veiled feet, her face stark and radiant. It was Mother's dress—she wore it for a ceremony to highlight her role in the public.

Thomas and Wilmer descend the staircase to a new round of fresh guests. I take this opportunity to approach her. She senses me and slightly turns her face sideways, her diamond earrings dangling in spheres of sparkles, her glaciers squinting in a beguiled smirk. "With that kind of eyeshadow on, you look like that superhero."

I took off my mask ages ago. It sweetened my philtrum, sides of my face, and temples. The intensity of guests did not make it much better. "Superhero?"

"Yes. The one that is always brooding and emotional. The bat."

"Ah, Bruce Wayne."

She snaps her fingers. "Batman."

My fingers caress the underside of my eyes, coming off streaked with black hues. Bonheur did mention the attribute overwhelmed the firmness of my irises. More domineering. I glance down at the Everston Crest. "May I?" She extends her hand. I gently cup it, inspecting the Allmother ring. The Crest is a shield of seraphs and symbols to emphasise the nation. "Perhaps Uncle Tom is right."

This floor is unengaged, us two and a few guards at the sides of the entrance staircase.

Her arm falls, and in German, "He is not. I had to manipulate Cyril for this. He claims to be a good man, but he has never perpetrated integrity. That is why actions speak louder than words."

I follow her gaze to the dancing guests. In my first language, "It is alarming how rapidly they forgot him." There is Tate Hugo's son, in the same spot for the last five hours. "It shows that he was never a good leader, either. None of the Allfathers are. Which is why you have to be better than them, Aunt Marlene."

She coils the Crest. Does it feel heavy on her finger, like the weight of the souls it consumed over the centuries? Would she ever increase the gallons of blood on our hands, like a newfound pandora's box? "Oh, I will. I know exactly what to do. The Matthews Industry is the most expensive business there is, worth over five trillion. I am the face of it. Now I am the face of this nation. The two are a good fusion."

I nod. "You can do a lot with that."

"Prime Minister William Wilson respects the Industry and me. We both aspire for the same intentions that benefit humanity."

"Sometimes I wonder that if Dad was not so lucky, we could have ended up like him. Suffering in poverty. I wonder if that is why society does not know about us. The Families. They think that these celebrities in Hollywood and royal families and so forth are so magnificent, but these ants are non-existent compared to us. We control them. Then I look at the very ones on top of the food chain. I realise how—"

"Out of touch they are," finishes Marlene.

I nod again. "They do not have the slightest thought of what life is like for others, Aunt Marlene. That gives a good enough reason as to why history is constantly repeating itself. I appreciate your manipulation."