The idea had merit. The trouble with conspiracies, good ones, was that everyone eventually looked like part of it if you twisted their motives and actions enough. “How do I fit in?”
“You’ll be our eyes on the inside.”
So, they wanted a spy. Not exactly a chivalric role. She had to admit there was a tactical advantage to using her that way. She was someone that came with plausible deniability. If it all came crashing down, they could throw her to the wolves. Say they had no part in what she was up to. She could lose her sponsorship with Salazar. Then again, if he was guilty—
“Think, Raine.” Her uncle interrupted her thoughts. “Why else would he call in Jack Madden?”
“All the retrieval teams have failed, that’s why. Even with his sorcery fried, Jack’s the best.”
“Perhaps they failed for a reason. Ramon was against Jack’s exile. They may be in this together, attempting to get the artifacts and use them against the Wardens.”
“No one knows for sure what are in those canopic jars, not even the Egyptian Gods. If you don’t know what they contain, you can’t plan ahead to use them.” She knew she shouldn’t argue, but her trade was analysis, particularly of field-grade intelligence for use in tactical operations. “I know Ramon Salazar is unorthodox, and I know Jack is dangerous, but isn’t it more important we get the artifacts out of circulation?”
“I agree completely. But we don’t want Salazar, and certainly not Jack Madden, to maintain control of them once they are found.” He curled his fingers into his palms and let his hands fall beneath the table, into his lap. “It’s more Jack we don’t trust. He’s made it plain he wants revenge. Against Kerr. The man who brought him down. All we ask is that you keep your eyes open for anything irregular. I’ll check in periodically for progress reports. Should things play out as we anticipate, when the artifacts are found, you’ll take Jack Madden out of play before he can turn on you, and us, and bring us all down.”
Take Jack Madden out of play.
The words echoed chillingly inside her skull. Taking someone out of play was the ultimate euphemism, the Covenant’s favored term for sanctioned assassination. They did it all the time for any number of reasons, to members of the Eternity Covenant, and to non-members deemed threats to the timeline, secrecy, or any other perceived risk. “You want me to kill him.”
“Knights do it all the time, in service to the cause. Madden, even with his powers bound, is a threat. He’s become adept at all forms of spell-based magic. It doesn’t matter that he can’t really use sorcery anymore, nor does it matter that his mystical tracking ability is diminished. He’s dangerous…”
“He’s a demi-God. You don’t think his father might take issue? Heimdahl’s part of the Norse contingent. You know how they are about blood feuds. Look at the price they demanded on his behalf, as weregeld payment for Jack’s mistaken binding.” She shook her head. “By the time Odin was done wrangling, the Tribunal wound up giving Jack, amongst other things, a pocket dimensional realm. What do you think those same Gods may want in payback when you kill him?”
“If it’s done in the terms of the game, when Jack is seen as the threat he is, there won’t be a problem. The Norse Gods play by the same rules as the rest of the Gods and the Covenant.”
Oh, they played, all right, by the same rules. But not the same way. They were a cunning bunch. Not a group you screwed with unless you were up against the wall, and half-mad with desperation. “I can’t assassinate him without reason.”
“There’ll be a reason. You’ll see. Trust me, Raine. I know Jack. Far better than you. He may wear a pretty face, speak fancy words, but his heart and his soul are black, and if he’s not part of the conspiracy, he’ll certainly contribute to the threat.”
Raine set down her cup. A dull ache crept into her head. All the energy that had beset her earlier fled, followed by numbing fatigue. “I’ll watch him. But I can’t agree to take him out of play unless he poses a clear, active threat. Even then, I prefer we call in a Champion from the Tribunal and have him judged according to protocol.”
A muscle in Hugh’s jaw ticked, the only outward sign of his displeasure with her display of rebellion. She couldn’t recall a time that she’d disagreed with her uncle. There was certainly never a time when they sat at the table, negotiating, where she set the terms. Times, however, had changed. She had changed. She was a woman, not a child. Life, the game, came on her terms now.
“Fine. We’ll play it your way for now.” Hugh stood, signaling the end of the interview. “Be careful. Madden is a seductive creature. He’ll speak to the most base part of you, and that part will not only want to listen, it will answer. You won’t be able to help yourself then. It happened the same way with your father. I don’t want to see you become a casualty like Edward.”
“I know the game, Uncle. You’ve taught me well.” She stood and came around the table. For a moment she thought this might be the last time they saw each other, and she had the crazy urge to hug him. Then she recalled the last time they’d embraced. He’d been stiff, uncomfortable with the contact. He was not a demonstrative man, certainly not in public. Instead, she did her best to smile with confidence, and carefully worded her parting response. “Thank Kerr for his generosity. I’ll keep in touch throughout the operation. As much as I safely and prudently can.”
“You’ve made the right decision, Raine.”
He gave her a curt nod, and then he was gone, striding across the dining room like a crusader crossing a battlefield. His clothes were modern, but her uncle had never come completely out of the crusades that shaped him as a mortal knight, and led him and her father as immortals into service with Kerr and the Eternity Covenant. She sat down hard in her chair and rubbed her temples, trying to reduce the growing ache.
Hugh thought she’d agreed to squire with him. She was crazy not to, she knew that, but the price was high, and with the game up and running, Raine wasn’t sure who she could and couldn’t trust.
She trusted her uncle. But Kerr? Acting? No. She didn’t buy that, even if Hugh swallowed it whole. It wasn’t enough that Jack came on the scene, turning her inside out, now her uncle and his crazy liege were throwing down with her as well. A part of her wished she’d had another route open to her. The demand for entering the Order amounted to extortion, she knew that, and still she’d leveled it at the Wardens, leaving them no other option. Like all the other players, she had her agenda. Now she had two choices, Ramon or Kerr, neither ideal, neither safe, sound, secure.
She had another drink of the expensive coffee and signaled the waiter for a refill. Technically, she was no one’s squire until she took the oath. The oath wouldn’t come until this operation was complete. She’d agreed to Ramon’s offer, but if he was a conspirator, she wouldn’t be expected to hold the bond of her word.
As for Jack, she didn’t owe him a damn thing. He was blunt about his own reasons for taking on the op, he was clearly in it for himself. He would use her, she would let him, because it would get her what she wanted. If Hugh and Kerr were right about him, she’d see the signs soon enough. She’d hedge her bets, play the game close to the wire, make her decisions at the last moment, when all the facts were in. That was her specialty anyway, taking complex and seemingly disparate facts, and making sense of them. She certainly didn’t want to have to take Jack out of play, but the cold reality of the situation was that if the threat came, there might not be time to enlist a Champion, or get judgment.
The waiter refilled her cup, and she added a generous helping of cream and sugar to smooth out the bitterness inherent in the brew. When she drank, it went down warm and smooth, and some of the pain in her head began to recede. The Eternity Covenant existed to protect the timeline from disruption, to hold together the dimension and its many realms, including the mortal plane. She’d do whatever necessary to preserve the Covenant, and she sincerely hoped that did not include taking Jack Madden down.
As the food settled and her thoughts steadied, she r
eplayed the meeting back at the Wardens. Jack had rocked her foundation, that was for damn sure. The magic had blown open doors she’d prefer stay closed. Being around him made her want to run for safety, and long to play with fire until she burned to ash.
As she studied all the impressions and sensations taken from that meeting, a realization came to light. It was visceral, but powerful. Something about him, something beyond the warnings, the hype, the myth, touched her. Something real, something genuine. It came to her in the briefest of sparks, when they held hands in the face of Kerr’s malicious attack. Once he’d been a hero, and a part of her suspected that the hero still lingered within. Amidst the unpredictability, the wild disregard for rules, the professed disdain for the Covenant and all it stood for, Raine knew Jack Madden still believed.
* * *
“I can’t believe you’re in league with a Chaos God.” Jack poured himself a generous helping of Ramon Salazar’s obscenely expensive scotch, and turned back to face the Elder Warden and his partner-in-crime, the Egyptian God, Seth. He had to admit, when Ramon crossed lines he did it with rare style and absolute commitment. “Does Kerr know?”
“Of course he doesn’t.” This from Seth. The God was present in human form, attired in the height of Soho chic, black on black on black on black. His dark red hair stood out like blood against the monochromatic outfit, and his normal golden-tanned skin appeared sallow. “And he won’t find out, will he, Jack?”
Jack shrugged and threw himself down onto the antique sofa facing Ramon’s massive desk. No, he guessed Kerr wouldn’t find out from him, unless it somehow played to Jack’s advantage. He took a hit of the scotch to keep from answering. A driving rain fell outside the multi-paned windows, casting a grey uncertain light into the room and lending a chill that the crackling fire in the gas-fed hearth couldn’t quite suppress.
Ramon and Seth. An unholy union if ever there was one, and a cause for concern. Not that Jack could trust anyone anyway, but now he knew how really on his own he was with this one. “I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
Jack sprawled out, affecting a casualness he didn’t quite feel. He’d prepared to negotiate in the board room, under certain conditions. Those conditions didn’t involve the dangerous Egyptian deity, and they didn’t factor in the cloak-and-dagger atmosphere in Ramon’s West Village brownstone. He needed to regain his footing, get things back on track. “You know, Ramon, not like I’m trying to tell you how to run your business, but the way you’re playing this seems awfully, what’s the word? Ah, yes. Conspiratorial. Given you’re trying to root out a conspiracy, or so you say, it’s kind of backwards, don’t you agree?”
“Not at all.” Ramon’s smooth baritone voice showed no hint of concern, worry, or any other irritating human emotion. “You know how the spy part of the game works. If there’s a hint of compromise, cells close tight to contain information, and minimize damage. We keep the op small, simple, to preserve the integrity. When we don’t know who we can trust, everyone looks like a conspirator, and every additional person added into the inner circle, a threat.”
Jack sipped his scotch, enjoying the gentle burn. The conspiracy and the missing artifacts were a bigger problem then he’d first anticipated. Havers was right. And he was lucky. Because their need was his to exploit. Who really cared if Ramon was playing things straight, or to his own advantage? Jack would still play them all in the end. As long as he had the access to the Covenant files, he’d ferret out the truth of the fifty-year-old crime, and he’d take down anyone with even a hint of that stink. “You’re right. Can’t trust anyone. The less involved the better.”
“Which is why I brought you in, Jack. I know the problems we’re facing are homegrown, and I know that even though you hate the Wardens, this complex a conspiracy is not your brand of revenge.”
“Ouch. Are you saying I’m not good at long-term planning?”
Ramon picked up his own scotch, held in a large snifter more suitable for brandy. He looked down at the swirling amber liquid. “You’re a one man kind of show. Never did like to share the glory.”
“Will the insults never stop?”
Ramon took a long swallow of his scotch and set it aside. From the desktop he picked up a small, rectangular flash drive. “Since you helped Gideon and Meg when they retrieved the first artifact, the Buckle of Isis, I’ll assume you know more about the missing artifacts than you first let on.”
“I know five jars went missing from that dig in the Valley of the Kings, and so far, four are still in circulation.” Jack finished his scotch, set the glass down on a small side table, and returned to his lounging position. He knew way more than that, of course. But sharing wasn’t on his agenda today. “I don’t know what’s in them, though.”
Seth and Ramon exchanged glances. This time, Seth, answered. “No one knows what’s really in them. Not that any of the Gods will admit.”
Well, that was interesting. And problematic. “How can no one know the contents? I thought you were hunting artifacts contained inside?”
“That’s the official story. The remaining four jars each have a top that represents one of the four sons of Horus. The going theory is that the jars themselves contain the organs of Kamuri, the priestess who created the Buckle of Isis and used it to live like a Goddess throughout time.”
“Sounds reasonable.” And all too Egyptian. No one did death and mummification quite like them. Or, immortality. Jack suppressed a shiver of disgust. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to this story?”
Seth’s flawless features creased with a frown. “It’s a little-known detail, and almost entirely speculation, but I think Kumari was a consort of a being known as Hermes Tristmagistus.”
“Isn’t that a name for Thoth? Your God of Magic and Science?”
“He’d like everyone to think so.” Seth, no longer able to hide his emotions, stalked over to the bar and began to pour himself a gin and tonic. “Thoth is one of the distant Gods, not part of the Covenant, not against the Covenant. He knew Tristmagistus. Your human historians and charlatans got the two mixed up as one. Anyway, it’s my suspicion artifacts associated with Kumari were not hers, but came from the hand of Tristmagistus. I also suspect the other jars contain artifacts, not Kumari’s innards. Artifacts made by Hermes Tristmagistus.”
“The greatest mage to ever walk our planes.” Jack let out a breath and turned over the new bit of conjecture in his head. It was widely accepted in historical and magical circles that the being known as Hermes Tristmagistus, or, thrice great, was a representation of the God Thoth, as well as Hermes. Some theorized he was an individual being, however, one who arrived during what rogue scholars and crazies called the Zep Tepi. Also known as The First Time, it was a golden period in prehistoric Egypt.
Depending on the branch of lunacy you believed, the Zep Tepi was a time where either space aliens landed and handed over an amazing amount of powerful techno-wizardry to give humans a quantum leap in math, physics, alchemy and magic, or, the same gifts were granted by the doomed race that built Atlantis. Either option was out there and yet, Jack had seen enough in his years with the Covenant, and his years on his own, to know that both could be viable. Hermes Tristmagistus was always tied back to the Zep Tepi. And the Atlanteans always tied back to magic and unimaginable power. Power to rival, and topple, the Gods.
If Seth was being truthful, that meant the Zep Tepi wasn’t some fantastic dream of fevered imagination, but closer instead to truth. And really, only the Gods knew for sure. They’d caused a cataclysm with their constant wars and monkeying with the timeline that erased any primary source traces of the Zep Tepi, and the builders of Atlantis, from the timeline. Still, the stories remained, and hints, like the thirteen tenets found on the cover of the alchemist’s holy grail: the Emerald Tablet. The relic was only a copy of what was purported to be an original, but it was potent enough to act as a cornerstone of a magical discipline: alchemy. Besides, where there was smoke, there was fire. And with the Covenant, that fire
was sure to be hellishly hot.
Jack’s brain spun into overdrive. This was bad. Very bad. If he found these jars, there was a good chance the Covenant would sanction his assassination, and Raine’s, just to tie up any loose ends. “You’re saying the Zep Tepi period actually existed?”
Seth raised a well-manicured brow. “I can’t confirm or deny, based on my agreement with the Gods of the Eternity Covenant. You know that. However, you’re clever enough to read between those lines of oaths. And, you’ve been to Atlantis. You’ve seen the ruins of the former residents.”
Jack took a deep breath. This was worse than bad. And, yet, it offered him a slim chance of hope. This was more than the existence of the damned race of Atlanteans. This was about unrivaled, unimaginable power.
The magic and tech credited to the Zep Tepi, often linked to the missing builders of Atlantis, gave man the ability to not only ascend as a God, but to transcend even their power. To create from nothing. To master all. That kind of juice was the only thing that might be able to repair the damage to his magical ability, and his destiny, inflicted as a result of the frame job fifty years back. This was more than revenge, this was a shot at redemption.
He forced himself to remain calm, breathe normal, not tip his hand. If he showed excitement, Salalzar might drop him from the op. He had to remain as always, cynical Jack, out for only simple vengeance. “Some sources credit Tristmagistus as the architect of magic itself, perhaps even the divine spark. If those jars contain artifacts sacred to him, they’re bound to be powerful.”
Ramon stood. “Exactly my point. Someone powerful compromised the mystics, made them see a version of the future that was not to be, twisted it and risked the entire timeline as a result. That is nearly impossible. I can’t believe the artifacts don’t tie into this whole charade, tie in to some endgame of destruction. Or domination. There is no such thing as coincidence.”
ImmortalIllusions: The Eternity Covenant Book2 Page 4