LXVIII. Hora Sexta – Part 1

At hora sexta, what should have only been midday but was already past sunset, the news proliferated like pollen on the wind that Caius Solin, the president of Constellation, was dead. 

Under the stars the streets filled with upturned faces, mostly silent except to pass on the news, Gaia Solin is dead, Gaia Solin is dead.

A million or more Soliari came out under the sky onto the streets, balconies and roofs and wondered what the president had gotten herself into and how soon the dawn would come, an hour or two? A minute? What would happen to them and was it out of their control? Had the president been the only person who could have stopped it?

And now she was dead.

Candra watched the whole city come outside tonight from a balcony on the sixteenth floor of the hovering east tower of the Constellation building. She needed one more minute — no longer — to decide what to do. It was a hot night, as if the humidity wouldn't let the day go early even if nothing else could stop it, and she leaned over the refreshingly cool metal railing and looked across to the west building from which she had linked, the tower where Gaia Solin had been murdered in her penthouse.

Not an hour after Candra had held Gaia in her arms.

Candra herself hadn't seen the murderer. She had been rendered unconscious on the president's white leather couch before she knew anything was amiss, and the assassin had kindly left her to be discovered with the body, waking up just in time for an attendant checking in to find her fully conscious, fully clothed, and looking very guilty.

She had had no choice but to fake tears and pretend to try to resuscitate the dead woman before screaming and raising the alarm. More time would have been nice, time to strategize, to decide whether to be the one to tell Justin and what to say, but the crowds gathering in the streets told her he'd have heard by now, the news spreading instantly by link and by simple yelling. Now she was left at even more of a loss as to what to say and how to turn this in some way to her benefit. 

Could she get a reward for information on the assassin? Did she have any? Maybe she should say she did it herself. Say that she killed Gaia. Could she possibly take the credit to the boss, or would he see right through her?

Across the city Cytheria Demarco came out onto the back patio of her manor into the night. She hardly had time to consider whether to grieve or how she might maneuver some gain out of Gaia Solin's death when another call came. The link appeared like a mirror hanging in front of her face, which was reflected back to her, wrinkles and all, and Tian's voice stammered from it. "Mother? Mother, are you there?"

Why did her son sound panicked? President Solin's death couldn't possibly affect him like this.

"Tian, what is it?" she asked as the link went two ways to show, instead of a reflection of her own frightened expression, her two children on the other side of the link, sitting next to one another — she had to blink before she could register that Terra had a gag in her mouth and her eyes were bulging out of her skull, but no more than Tian's.

Cytheria sputtered and sat up with her arms reaching for her son and daughter, even though it wasn't a teleportation link but a closed communication link more like a shut glass window and her fingers hit an invisible force hard.

"Mother—" Tian stammered, cut short by an explosive crack. Cytheria screamed — her son slumped forward and the wall behind him was sprayed with a pattern of red that dripped and ran streaming down the white paint.

Through her gag Terra screamed and cried and struggled, but Tian never made another sound.

Stars swirling over her head in the cool night outside her apartment, Diana Aemilia ran down the pier to the water in her bare feet and stopped a meter from the end of the dock. She panted for breath. The stars swirled one way, and then stopped and reversed, so she focused on the steady break of the wave after wave after wave. Her pulse wasn't done its own race when a voice right behind her said her name, "Diana," and startled her like a shock out of her skin; she jumped and spun, pure luck landing her on her feet and not in the ocean, her knees bent and arms waving to bring her back to equilibrium.

Cristo leaped forward and grabbed one of her hands to help her achieve balance, the other hand out to catch her if she fell, and he said, "I need you to come with me." How could he have been behind her? She had run down an empty pier and suddenly he was right behind her.

It didn't matter. She shook her head no.

"Listen, the president is dead."

"I know."

"I need you to come with me."

"No, I can't," said Diana.

"You can have an hour to collect yourself and get ready. We're going to Potestas Tower in Invernali. The boss will host an event. You'll be safe there. I'll come back to get you in an hour."

"I'm not supposed to leave the house," Diana said, getting herself under control, taking her hand back from him, backing up three steps and calming her breath as her pulse returned to normal. She wasn't going to let him bully her like the people who took Milana.

"Yet here you are," said Cristo. Diana examined him. He seemed calm, put together — maybe even flippant. He tossed his head and dared to smile at her as if he'd beaten her in a game.

"I'm three minutes from my house. I just needed some air."

"You don't understand," said Cristo. Now he became serious, as if he wasn't used to people arguing back after he'd said something clever.

But what he said next was much more persuasive. "With the president dead, they have much less reason to keep you alive. It's not just Milana anymore. You're in danger. I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry I didn't realize before. But there's good news: as long as you're alive, they need Milana alive."

In the yard outside the Gloriam estate, the Gloriam family was in a celebratory mood. Angelus Gloriam reclined on a lawn chair and half-listened to his father, Angelus Sr., and his uncle, Calo. They were joined by his cousin Portia and her new husband, Leo Marius, with a glass of white wine in hand. They speculated as to who the murderer was — although they weren't entirely stupid and didn't name any of their own out loud in the open air. And they speculated as to what could possibly stand in Justin Marius's way at this point.

Angelus didn't care about any of that. It was good for him, of course. He supported Justin's cause, and tomorrow Angelus Junior would be appointed to the board of Constellation without having to wait — forever — for his father, Angelus Senior, to retire. And he'd have a raise and the top floor office to go with it while he worked side by side with his father, his own man but exactly as accomplished, and from there, who knew?

He had top grades and excellent connections, and even without doing anything else for Justin Marius, he'd already proven his loyalty. Maybe he'd even climb above his father at Constellation — or be president.

Maybe he'd move out of the family estate and get a penthouse downtown.

But even fantasies of the future weren't what kept pulling at his attention. His mind was captured every time it tried to wander by the image of a girl. Of her adoring eyes peering at him and worshipping every word he said, trying to hide her eavesdropping across lecture halls and bars, and today she'd eaten up every word he said in debate. Her name was Claudia Solace, and before this morning he had never given her much thought. Hours later he couldn't stop thinking about the admiration on her face every time she looked at him.

Unable to sit still any longer, he got up from the lawn chair and, without excusing himself to his family, created a link to the university campus where he felt sure he'd find Claudia Solace.

Tony Solari went home to his wife and his supernal condo as soon as he heard the news. It was only an hour after noon despite the dark sky, but he, like most Constellation employees, called it quits for the day and admitted no work was getting done on a day that both started and ended early and their boss had been murdered.

Cordelia was outside on the rooftop deck, leaning right against the edge of the patio wall, looking out at the city and the night sky just like everyone else. Tony came up behind her and put his arms around her. "Anything interesting happen today?" he joked.

Her voice was toneless when she replied, "Nope," and Tony kissed the back of her head through her hair.

Thank you for reading the beginning of Hora Sexta. More is coming soon, and I would love to hear your thoughts! If you enjoyed it, please leave a star behind!