“Imagine an ink made to degrade, ink that is designed to be broken down by the body. The tattoos from ink like this would vanish over a matter of days. It would seem… Well, it would seem almost like a miracle.”

I look from the bottle, to Minnow’s face.

“The mayor’s marks?” I say. My voice is numb.

“You see, Flint. I am not afraid of you knowing my secrets. After all, who would believe you?”

As I run from the room, all I hear is Jack Minnow’s laugh echoing in my ears.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-five

Once I am outside I see that there is another meeting gathering. Covering my face, I join the throng. It smells of sweat, the inevitable miasma created by a crowd of hot and anxious people stuck in one place. A trickle of perspiration makes its way down my back.

You can see that people are frustrated – reluctant to be here, tired of having their routines constantly upset by public showdowns. The people want action; they want to know how Longsight is going to stop the attacks.

When did it all change? He used to draw respect; there was only silence and awe when he stood before us. How can it be that after everything – his astonishing revival, his incredible feats – he is less impressive? Everything that was once so glittering now seems tarnished. How is it that power can be so easily lost? Fear is a potent brew, and Sana has been letting it simmer to perfection.

I am still stunned from my face-off with Minnow. My fingers brush the bottle of ink in my pocket. All my muscles are tight – as though I’ve been running or readying myself for a fight. Adrenaline zings around my body, heightening my senses.

When Mayor Longsight takes to the stage – arms outstretched, ready to embrace applause – there is absolute silence.

“My people,” he says, and I think his voice falters. “My people, I have heard your cries. You are afraid, and you are hurting. Believe me, I feel your pain in my very core. You wonder why the blanks seem to have grown strong and you ask why we do not show them that we are so much stronger.”

There are calls of agreement here, and to my ears they sound irritable. Longsight pauses and inclines his head as though studying the crowd – planning carefully what he will tell them next. I can feel their longing like a current – their fists are clenched, their feet firmly set. They want him to call for them to fight: they have never been so ready. I prepare for him to call out, to raise his voice and rally his troops. Instead he smiles.

“We are at the cusp of something new, something great,” Longsight says, and his voice is gaining in confidence. “Have you ever watched someone die?”