Peter's Plea

“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Chairman,” said yet another monotonous voice. He understood why he had already heard that same statement an immeasurable amount of times today, but he was sick of people offering their condolences. He didn’t want people’s pity. He wanted his wife, and the fact that he would never see her again sent sharp pangs through his chest.

He was angry: angry that Rose was gone; angry that no amount of hard work or effort could bring her back; and angry that he didn’t know what to do. He felt as though he lost his center of gravity and now every step forward was uncertain. Rose was his voice of reason, his shining light when the day felt dark, his partner and best friend; and he didn’t know how to behave, what to think, or even how to feel without her. He was broken.

He sat at his desk and stared at the report he had received the previous night. He read the same, terrible lines over and over again. “Rose Miller,” the paper said, “found dead near the south Valley entrance. Cause of death: suspected animal attack. Reason: torn abdomen and cut throat.” The paper crinkled under his trembling fingers, and the stark black ink of those taunting words blurred as his eyes brimmed with fresh tears.

Peter knew it wasn’t an animal that killed his beloved wife. He just did not understand why. He also knew that asking the Elite could be dangerous, deadly even. He stroked his mangled beard and tried to think clearly, but his emotions clouded his mind and kept him from thinking of anything other than the fact that Rose was gone. His head began spinning. He couldn’t feel anything beyond the anger and grief. He was lost.

Peter slammed the paper down on his desk and hurriedly stormed out of his office. He was so focused on his intended destination, he didn’t even register the startled gasp and the hurried shuffle of feet as he nearly barreled into Jake.

“Sir, are you alright?” Jake asked. Peter always liked Jake and had wished he and Charity could have worked out. Typically, he would stop to speak with Jake any time Peter saw him; however, he could not afford any distractions right now. He needed to do something to avenge his wife, even if it meant his death.

“Not now, Jake,” Peter dismissed him, “Don’t try to stop me.”

“Where are you going?” Jake rushed after him.

“To the Elite,” Peter responded without slowing his pace toward the parking lot.

“The Elite? Sir, you know you can’t go in there without being requested. It’s dangerous!”

“I told you not to stop me,” Peter snapped.

Jake flinched at Peter’s response, but he did not protest any more. Opportunity seized him, and he realized this could be a daring moment that may solidify his position in the council, regardless of how things may turn out for Peter. “Then let me go with you.”

“Fine,” Peter replied without turning back.

The hum of the engine and the whirring sound of tires racing against asphalt were the only sounds in the otherwise silent car. Peter’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel. His jaw was taught, and Jake dared not question his motives or request some insight into this drive. For hours, he sat in silence with nothing but his steady breathing of the recirculating air to keep him company.

As the setting sun was eclipsed by an ivory tower, Jake sucked in a deep breath. It was more beautiful and immaculate than he could have imagined. The smooth, polished surface of the tower seemed to gleam with an unnatural and almost other worldly luminescence. He couldn’t believe he was here, in the Valley, where humans were very rarely ever allowed to enter. And, if they were, it was even more rare that they returned.

Peter parked the car, his fingers trembling as he turned off the ignition. It was too late to turn back now. He made his way not toward the tower that stood above the clouds but toward an immaculate, white building just to its left. The wind bit at his cheeks as he ascended the smooth, marble steps, and a chill shivered down his spine as he eyed the pristine columns. This building was one Peter had only been in once before on the night he received his promotion and swore himself to secrecy.

Peter hesitated before the imposing entrance, the heavy golden knocker gleaming in the fading light. His palms grew sweaty as he lifted the heavy metal, and the resounding clang against the wooden door echoed against the surrounding columns before being carried away by the wind. Both men held their breath as they waited for a response. They were not sure how much time passed before one of the doors slowly creaked open, causing them to jump back in fright.

“Enter,” said a raspy voice.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Peter pushed the door open just a bit more and ordered Jake to remain outside. Jake nodded, his knees knocking together. What was he thinking? What good would a bold career move do if he was dead? Regardless of the admiration he held for the high chairman, he never should have followed Peter here.

Peter swallowed hard and stepped over the threshold. The smell of decay overwhelmed him, but he did his best to stomach the vomit that he felt rising. He tried to avoid eye contact with the multiple Elite in the room, all of which were casually reclining in thrones made of the purest gold and finest fabric. Even in the dim light, their glowing red eyes and melting flesh were still clearly visible. As soon as the large door slammed shut behind him, he dropped to his knees and made eye contact with the red carpet resting on the hardwood floor.

“Why are you here, Peter Miller? You know the rules,” said Sephtis, the leader of the Elite. His raspy voice sent chills down Peter’s spine.

“I am sorry for disturbing you, sir. I understand the consequences I could face, but I have just learned that my wife died, and I wish to know why,” Peter’s voice trembled violently as he struggled to word his request as carefully as possible. If anything he said sounded like he did not agree with the decisions of Abaddon or the Elite, he would be killed on the spot. Sweat began to bead on his forehead as he waited for Sephtis’s response.

“Stand,” Sephtis said after a moment.

Peter immediately stood and looked at his leader. Sephtis’s decaying face and red eyes never showed any form of pleasure or understanding and prevented Peter from knowing whether his request was worded acceptably or not. Peter’s heart was beating so loudly, he was sure the Elite could hear it. He did his best to keep his eyes fixed on Sephtis and not look at the other six Elite in the room.

“It was a foolish thing to come here unannounced. It was even more foolish to bring along a companion,” Sephtis’s voice flooded the room and made Peter tremble.

“I-I am sorry, s-sir,” Peter stuttered, “but I understand my wife was killed by an Elite, and I simply wish to know why, so I can ensure my daughter and I do not make the same heinous mistake my wife did.”

“Acheros,” Sephtis turned his attention toward an Elite seated on his far left. “Tell Peter what happened.”

The Elite named Acheros stood. His unnaturally tall figure stalked slowly toward Peter. Peter flinched as he heard the sound of cracking bones with each of Acheros’s steps. Once Acheros was close enough for Peter to see his decaying teeth, rotting gums, and maggots residing in his mouth, Acheros began to speak.

“Rose Miller,” he said in a ghastly, death-like tone, spewing maggots and spit toward Peter’s face, “She was the one caught in the lower levels of King Abaddon’s tower. I killed her during her escape.”

Peter doubled over as though Acheros had punched him in the gut. He couldn’t believe it. Rose promised she would never do anything dangerous. She told him she would never attempt to undermine Abaddon or start a rebellion. That is not the Rose he knew. His Rose could never do something so treasonous. Peter thought hard of what could have possibly happened to her to make her do such a terrible thing. Surely something, or someone, had to have coaxed her. Someone had to have planted a terrible seed in her mind.

“Sir, if I may,” Peter inquired after a moment of reasoning within himself.

“Go on,” Sephtis replied as he instructed Acheros to return to his seat with a wave of his grotesque hand.

“My wife would never do anything so traitorous on her own volition. I believe she was manipulated by an outside party and tricked into abandoning her principles. If I may, I would like to hunt down this group of rebel rousers I believe influenced my wife.”

Sephtis let out a terrifying sound Peter did not realize was laughter. “Your loyalty amuses me,” Sephtis stated. “Go. Learn what you can of these supposed ‘rebel rousers’ if there are any. For your sake, I hope your suspicions are correct.”

“Thank you, sir,” Peter bowed and hurried out of the room, tripping over the threshold as he ran.

The moment Peter heard the door slam shut behind him, his wobbling knees gave way, and he fell trembling onto the cold stone steps. Although adrenaline, anger, and clouded judgment carried him to the Elite’s chamber; the sobering reality of his impending demise as well as the fact that Peter was quite literally staring death in the face overwhelmed him now that the adrenaline was gone.

“Sir!” Jake yelled as he rushed over to help Peter. The young man hurriedly pulled a cloth out of his bag and began to wipe the cold sweat that was beading on Peter’s brow.

Peter looked up at Jake. The furrowed brow on his young face and large eyes staring intently at him reminded Peter of his daughter. Another relentless wave of emotion rocked him. He had been so consumed with finding Rose he had not even stopped to think about whether or not Charity was okay, and now he could not determine whether the primary emotion he could feel in that moment was sadness, anger, fear, or guilt.

Jake knelt beside Peter and struggled to help him stand. Although Jake was a strong man, Peter was quite large and rather difficult to lift alone. Jake’s face turned red, and veins began to pop as he raised his boss from the cool marble. Slowly, the two made their way back to Peter’s car. Jake helped a trembling Peter into the passenger’s side, certain he was no longer in any condition to drive them back to the office safely.

“Are you okay?” Jake asked once they had made it beyond the Valley’s border.

“I’m alright,” Peter muttered as he fixed his tie.

“What happened in there?” Jake asked.

“The only thing that matters is that I got the answer I wanted, and that means I have a lot of work ahead of me.”

“Well, that’s good,” Jake said, still confused at what had just transpired.

“Jake,” Peter said while turning his attention toward the young man, “how would you feel about a promotion? I need an assistant for this new project.”