"Will." I say hesitantly, seeing him facing the city below him as he stays perched on the balcony railing.
"Go away." He spits, glancing behind him with rage in his expression. There's a bandage on his hand, but I don't point it out. Digging his nails into the marble railing, he mutters something under his breath. "Leave me alone."
"You've been summoned for a meeting." I say adamantly, moving forward to place my hand on his shoulder. He whips his hand back, smacking me across the mouth as he slides off the railing. My face grows hot as I taste coppery blood where my tooth cut the inside of my lip, a murderous look in his eyes as if he'd be more than happy to do it again. Stepping backwards, I raise my hand, ducking down slightly to shield myself. Instead, he just stands there, his hands clenched at his sides and his jaw set in fury.
"I don't want you here, Tessa. Leave." He orders, but I stand my ground warily.
"Its urgent, they say." I insist, watching as his features darken. "It's about the riots."
To my surprise, he just makes an exasperated sound in the back of his throat, leaning his forehead up against his hand. "I don't want to worry myself with those. Meetings have always been a waste of my time." Will snaps, though he runs a hand through his hair and opens the door to the inside. I follow him, trying to step quietly not so he doesn't notice me, but so he doesn't make note of my presence and doesn't speak to me. I don't want to talk to him. He's too confusing and sparks too many questions that he fails to answer, and, when he does answer them, they leave me hanging for more.
When we first walk into the meeting room, I am immediately surprised at seeing three Protectors lined up in it, their masks pulled over their faces and guns hooked at their belt. Mr. Herondale is at the table, speaking with another young Aristocrat I have never seen before. There is a small projection in the shape of a small syringe hovering over a pad, animated in peculiar ways. Looking up, Mr. Herondale gestures for Will to sit, but I just stand on the sidelines, waiting.
"Its almost a one hundred percent chance the new serum works now that we have updated the chemical balance." The Aristocrat says proudly, zooming in on the projected syringe. "The tranquilizer in it helps attack the conscious nervous central, shutting off the persons opinions, free will, and emotions, but still makes it so they will comply to your wishes as a trained pet might do."
Mr. Herondale raises an eyebrow. "Any side effects?"
"Some, but they are very rare." The Aristocrat explains. "Sometimes, the body fights the drug, making the drug useless against them. However, though the subject may act somewhat normal, they are prone to having fits and periods where they can't control themselves because the serum is fighting for control. This has induced violence towards others and self affliction, but it has only happened on two test subjects out of over a hundred."
"Good, good." Mr. Herondale drones, moving forward to turn the projection off. The light coming out of the pad dims, the syringe fading and disappearing. "How long after injection does it take to fully activate."
"Anywhere between a few days to a week, so fairly quickly."
"Then start using it for the servants. I don't really understand why you had to clear it with me, first."
The Aristocrat shifts uneasily. "You were the one that requested you be given all the details before it went into use. And, because of your status in the government, it is only customary that I, as part of the family who created the serum, ask for your permission, my Lord."
It is then that I realize he is the son of Henry Branwell, a scientist's and inventor's son. No wonder the serum was created by his family. Henry Branwell is brilliant, if a little far fetched, but an undeniable genius. They are Aristocrats, but only just above Commoners, giving them little respect in such a wealthy and sophisticated lifestyle.
"I don't understand what this has to do with the riots." Will interrupts before his father can answer. "What is my place here?"
"Oh, yes." Mr. Herondale stands up, flicking his hand at the Protectors. "While I escort young Charles out, I do put all my faith in you that you will decide the right thing." He drawls, opening the door and gesturing for Charles to follow him. The doors slam shut and Will just stares at the Protectors, a bored look on his face.
"Well?" Will asks, looking expectantly at the Protectors. "No need to stand on ceremony." One of the Protectors moves towards the main projector to show him something, but Will holds up his hand, pointing at the Protector's mask. "The mask. Off. It is strange talking to a blank face." With a little reluctance, the Protector reaches up, lifting his black mask from his face. It makes them seem so much more human when I see their face, and I'm a little surprised when I see a mess of black hair and kohl rimmed eyes. At the same time, I half expected it as well. Magnus is one of the most renowned Protectors England has ever seen. "Now," Will sighs, leaning back in his chair, "continue."
"Yes, my Lord." Magnus says with a hint of contempt and sarcasm in his voice. He's a brutal and effortless fighter, but everyone always knows he has a problem with authority. Bringing up the projection, he splits it in half, showing the part of Chiswick and the Protector's detaining area. "Over in this location," Magnus points to the edge of Chiswick, "there is a storage facility."
"What about it?"
"During the riot last week, Protectors caught and detained three rebels. They are currently being held in the Protector's detaining area closest to you, and, seeing as you are the highest class family nearest to it," Magnus says, saying something under his breath that sounds vaguely like mores the pity, he draws a line between the Herondale house and where the rebels are being held, "you get the power of deciding their fate."
"How fun." Will sneers, smirking as if he's a cat that just found a particularly amusing moth fluttering about. He clenches his hands, wincing slightly when the cut on his hand pulls and his nails dig into it. "I get to decide?"
"Yes." Magnus answers plainly with impatience in his voice. Zooming out of the projection, he points at a building. "They're right there...waiting."
Will taps his fingers on the table in front of him, still looking down. "That serum I've heard about...why not use it?" Will laughs humorlessly, a little bit of anger in his squared shoulders and gravelly tone. "They are rebels For the Annihilation. What they don't realize his that they are weak without the power we have." He stops tapping his fingers, "Magnus."
"What will it be?" Magnus inquires, pulling his black mask back on again with an irritated glint in his strangely colored eyes. "My Lord?"
"Convict them." Will snarls, raising his eyes to look at the projection. "Convict them all."