Around the table, David Melech's hand went up, Mr. Hersch's, and, of course, my father's.
"You heard the recording," I protested. "Lydia admitted they did all those things. Not us."
The hands remained in the air. I remembered what Stellan said earlier-some of the Circle didn't like him. They weren't going to let an ex-Keeper be one of them no matter what. I struggled harder.
"You can't do this." Luc stalked toward Lydia until another of her guards pointed a gun at him. He stopped and turned to the table. "He's technically your leader. It has to be a three-fourths majority for termination even of a distant family member."
"I have to agree with Lucien," said a worried-sounding Arjun Rajesh. "What if they're telling the truth? Even if they're not, this is against code."
"He's right," George Frederick spoke up. "I'm not against a trial, but-"
"We're not voting on Avery now," Lydia coaxed, ignoring them. "This one was a Keeper who turned on us. It was a mutiny. Even if he does have the mystical powers it seems like he does, it's in his entire bloodline. There are plenty more in the world who can fill that place."
Two more hands went up hesitantly. Slowly, Mr. Koning put his hand in the air. Zara met Luc's eyes across the table. "Father, no," she said, low, but he ignored her.
"That's a majority," Lydia said.
"No!" I screamed.
I didn't even stop to think. My elbow connected with the Keeper's stomach and I wrenched out of his arms, throwing myself between Stellan and the gun. "Kuklachka, get out of the way," he growled.
"Stop!" my father yelled, pushing back from the table. The guard with the gun paused. "Don't shoot her! We don't want her dead."
Behind us, the chants and prayers of the crowd outside had turned into a frenzied wall of sound. A warm breeze swirled in from the balcony.
"Just let them both die," Daniel Melech said. "Most of this is her fault, anyway, and we'll take all the blood we can from her as she bleeds out. All in favor?"
"Now hold on one minute," my father said, leaping from his chair, but some of the same hands went up as had voted to kill Stellan. Even with the incentive of the virus and the vaccine, the rest of the Circle had none of the vague attachment to me my own family seemed to have.
Daniel didn't even stop to count. "Do it," he snapped to his Keeper.
The Keeper raised his gun, aiming right at my head.
I hardly had time to suck in a quick breath and start to duck before the gun went off.
Then I was being tackled to the ground. Screams echoed in my ears.
I was on the floor, half on the balcony. My father was lying across me, a pool of blood spreading under him.
Lydia screamed.
She dropped to the ground by Alistair's head. Stellan was there immediately, pulling me from under my father's body. I stared at Alistair's blank face. He'd saved me. After everything, my father had given his life for mine.
Lydia was sobbing, huddled over him, digging through his pockets. She came out with his phone, her bloody fingers sliding clumsily across the screen. It could be a city she was about to infect, but I was willing to bet her focus had narrowed. Stellan and I started toward her, but with the hand not holding the phone, she pulled a gun out of her coat. "Stay back!"
We froze. She turned back to the screen.
"Take the vaccine!" I shouted. "Drink the vial! Now! Everybody-Keepers, too. You're going to die if you don't."
Arjun Rajesh took his, then handed a second one to his Keeper. So did the Mikados and the Vasilyevs, and surprisingly, the Emirs. A few more families held their vials nervously, watching those who had taken the vaccine for any sign of imminent death.
"Take it!" I yelled again. I looked to Stellan, desperate. His shirt fell open at the collar, and I saw our tattoo, dark and strong and sure on his chest.
Our tattoo. The thirteenth family's.
I touched Stellan's chest and took a breath. "I order you to take the vaccine."
"Yes," Stellan murmured, but only a few people heard me above the commotion. Stellan squeezed my hand and nodded to Lydia.
I let go of him and turned to my sister. Stellan's voice boomed across the room behind me, "We are the thirteenth family of the Circle of Twelve. We're your leaders. And we order you to take the vaccine we've given you. We order you by blood."
Without looking to see whether they were responding, I inched toward Lydia.
She was huddled against the balcony railing, gulping back sobs, wiping the phone's screen on her shirt. Behind her, the worshippers in the square had heard the gunshots and seen the activity, and the square had gone quiet. A sea of faces turned up to us, tens of thousands-hundreds of thousands-of people expecting their pope to give his blessing, but instead getting this.