Secrets Intertwined

II

Following after Jackson, Logan found himself in a huge room, masked in shadow.

They both knew it to be the grandest room in the whole House. It was the same room they held all the gathering in, including the annual Council Ball. However, on a day-to-day basis, it was just a conference room.

Its enormous windows, that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, were covered by thick velvet curtains. The infamous dome ceiling barely visible in the dim lighting. 

Way across, in the middle of the room, lay a round hardwood table littered with candelabras. 

Gathered around that table sat twelve men, all dressed in formal attire, far grander than anything Jackson or Logan had ever owned.

Cautiously, they both began to walk forward, their footsteps obnoxiously loud in the otherwise silent room.

They reached the open space at the table and stood there, not saying a word, waiting to be addressed. On the opposite side, lounged a man with an ageless face. His dark brown hair lay in a single braid and his face was cleanly shaven. Cold calculating eyes peered out from underneath trimmed eyebrows and his hands lay folded on the table.

The president.

He gracefully pushed himself to his feet, the other councilmen following suit.

"Jackson, Logan!" he exclaimed in a light tone, clapping his hands together once and inclining ever so slightly at the waist.

"President Elijah," curtly replied Jackson, bowing his head.

"Please, sit!"

As everyone took their seats, the councilmen glared at the newcomers, looking down at them as if they were less worthy. 

Jackson and Logan had known no other councilmen nor president. When elected, the job was a lifetime occupation, a contract only breakable by death. A new councilman would be elected by the president immediately after the passing of their predecessor. As of yet, none had been re-elected in Jackson's life, meaning the youngest of them was at least thirty-eight years his superior.

Strangely, both Jackson and Logan had both often noticed than none of them looked a day over fifty. And that hadn't changed in the four years they had been Leaders.

Elijah, who had remained standing after everyone had taken their seats, slowly began circling the table.

Jackson and Logan had visited the Council House fairly frequently over the last several years. Elijah had always been polite and courteous but both Jackson and Logan knew he wasn't to be trusted. They both knew he only had one thing on his mind. Money. He didn't really care about the fact children were being taken from their homes; He only cared about the money that came rolling in. 

And they were almost certain that was the reason behind their summons.
Money.

"We," said Elijah, gesturing to the men, "have called you here for a reason. For five years, we have granted you leniency due to the nature of the situation you have found yourselves in," he said.

Elijah placed his hands against the table and scrutinized the two men with a careful eye.
Logan, uncomfortable under Elijah's unwavering stare, pulled his blonde locks behind his ears and averted his gaze. His jaw remained locked and his clench fists were safely hidden under the table. 

Jackson, on the other hand, stared Elijah down with a neutral gaze, his hands lying open and relaxed on the armrests of his chair.

"But alas, times are changing. We can no longer offer you our assistance. Money is a cruel thing, but it is what we need to continue providing our services of protection."