by Bec McMaster
"No," Sebastian whispered, but as he took a step toward his wife, hands caught at him, dragging him back. A ting sounded as the ring dropped from his lax hand and hit the tiles, rolling toward his mother's chair, where she bent and picked it up. The servants overwhelmed him with blank looks on their faces, as if they'd been spelled into submission. He was shoved inside the house.
And his mother slid the controlling ring on her finger with a smug look. "Now, Sebastian... it's time to repay your betrayal tenfold."
And he began to scream as pain obliterated his senses.
Chapter 9
THE NEXT DAY Bishop left a disgruntled Verity at Lady Eberhardt's house for her dress fitting with Marie. She'd been particularly watchful of him all morning, and he had to concede that removing the bracelet from her gave him some measure of freedom, as well as her. If she'd still been linked to him, he'd have had to bring her with him, and he had no intentions of letting the bloody woman anywhere near the rest of the Sicarii.
For if his fellows considered her a threat to the Order, they'd kill her.
When the hackney pulled up at the British Museum's Natural History campus, Bishop alighted on Cromwell Road and paid the man before checking his pocket watch. A quarter to ten. Nearly time.
Taking the blank mask with its carved runes out of his coat pocket, Bishop slipped it over his face. "Finersh," he whispered, activating the runes on the Mirror Mask. Now none would know his true face. All they would see would be what they wanted to see: a handsome man, a young lad, an older gentleman... every person passing him would see something different.
Stepping into the pedestrian crowd, Bishop shoved his hands into his coat pockets and moved against the ebb and flow of foot traffic. Hackneys clopped past, jarring the tranquility, as well as the blare of a horn or two. Bishop darted across the road, fetching up at the grand doors to the British Museum.
Madrigal Brown waited for him by the arch to the Hintze Hall, wearing a white, frilled gown, with her silvery hair swept up into a neat chignon beneath the broad lilac-colored hat she wore. Bishop nodded to her, but didn't relax. A drape of arctic fox fur shielded her throat, and one of her gloved hands curled around the brass hilt of the cane she held. Though she had entered her sixth decade, she wasn't the type of woman one dismissed as weak or vulnerable.
Firstly, she was the only member of the Sicarii who had ever belonged to anything but the Dark discipline. The chip of pale marble in her prime ring betrayed her as a disciple of the Light, which made her targets never suspect her. When she'd first appeared at the Sicarii meeting, they'd all been shocked. To join the Sicarii, one had to kill your predecessor, and Baron Samedi had been the most dangerous man Bishop had ever met.
Secondly, she'd risen through the ranks within three years to become Magister of the Sicarii. To do so, she'd dueled the previous Magister, Wōden, a sorcerous duel Bishop had born witness to. Every time Wōden had flung a weave at her, Madrigal had the counter-weave ready, until Wōden finally made one mistake too many. She might lack the killing edge the others owned, but a man underestimated her at his own risk. For Madrigal had the powers of Foresight, finely honed over decades of diligence. In a duel or a battle, she could Foresee the next move her opponent made, and possibly even further than that.
"Hades," she said, tilting her head in greeting, with an amused smile playing about her lips.
She was the only one of the Sicarii who did not disguise her identity. The rest he knew as Thanatos, Kali, and Osiris.
"Madrigal," he greeted, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of her glove. Agatha always said he had a way with older ladies.
"Walk with me." She turned toward the stairs, her skirts sweeping over the terracotta tiles. "The others are already here."
"Something on your mind?"
"Someone, perhaps," she replied, capturing her skirts in one hand and swishing down the stairs as though it were a ball. She led him toward the East Wing, with its display of extinct creatures. Fitting perhaps, for those who were masters of death. "Osiris is planning to put through a motion that the Prime—the former Prime—be quietly dealt with, in order to ensure the succession." Green eyes slid toward him. "I don't think you want that."
Bishop clasped his hands behind his back, suppressing the urge to clench them. Madrigal must know who he was, and the connection between him and the Prime. "How do you think the others will vote?"
"Kali goes where Osiris wills, but Thanatos... I'm not certain." That mouth thinned a fraction. "He's obtained a crystal that wards him against my Foresight."
"And yourself?" he asked, for until she committed to one particular side, he wasn't fool enough to think her his ally.
Madrigal paused at the base of the stairs. "There are troubling times coming, and it's all connected to the ex-Prime. I only see flashes of it, but... there is darkness ahead, Hades."
"Then you cannot be certain whether Drake is the cause of it," he told her, "or if his death will set off a chain of events that might lead to these times."
"True." She arched a brow. "But I must make a decision, without all of the information I would prefer. What do you think?
Glancing around, Bishop caught her wrist and swept her into an alcove beside a bronze cast of a pterodactyl. None of this was information he'd shared with the Sicarii, but he needed Madrigal on his side. The others... perhaps he could take them one by one, but she had always made him doubt the outcome of any duel between them. "It's not well-known," he murmured, "but a month ago, the Blade of Altarrh was stolen from Drake's mansion and turned up in his ex-wife Morgana's hands."
Madrigal's eyes sharpened. "I've seen nothing of this."
"You wouldn't. Drake's wards would hide it from even your eyes."
"And the rest of the Relics Infernal?"
"The Blade was destroyed when Drake confronted Morgana, but there's no sign of the Wand. It vanished the week before the Blade was stolen, leaving only its caretaker's body behind."
"Dead?" Madrigal demanded.
"As a doornail."
"And the Chalice?"
He hesitated. Verity belonged to him. "It was safe, but a thief of extraordinary skill managed to get their hands on it and pass it along to someone else. I'm currently tracking it."
Madrigal sucked in a breath. "All three of the Relics Infernal are missing? Why the hell wasn't I informed?"
"Drake commanded that the recovery be kept quiet. Only those who needed to know were aware of any of this."
"So he turned to you," she said, and he wasn't certain if she were pleased or not. "What are your orders, Hades?"
"Protect the Prime," he said swiftly. "Protect the Order."
"One would say you have the order of that mixed up." Her voice dropped to a silky whisper. "You serve the Sicarii, who serve the Order. The Prime is a highly important playing piece, but not more important than the Order."
His voice roughened. "Understood."
"What efforts have been made to recover the relics? Even with the Blade destroyed, who knows what they could be used for? We could find ourselves battling a demon, even without the Blade. And what of Morgana?"
So he told her, leaving out certain details such as the fact that the thief was inconveniently lodged in his house right now. "Morgana was presumed dead in the collapse of the house, but the excavators have not yet discovered her body." Nor had they found the body of his half brother, Sebastian, which troubled him even more than Morgana's missing remains.
They couldn't have escaped, could they?
Some remains should have been found by now, instinct whispered.
"Does Drake's resignation have anything to do with his ex-wife?"
Of course it did. Bishop didn't understand his father's decision. Eleanor Ross might have been Drake's lover, and injured in the attempt to recover the Blade, but Drake had to have known the mess he'd leave if he resigned. Didn't he? He could have hired a nurse to care for Eleanor, but Bishop's arguments had fallen on deaf ears. "He's tired of being pulled in both dir
ections," he admitted. "The Order has always been his priority, but now others take its place."
Madrigal tapped her lips. "Troubling. Drake has left us in a fine mess."
"Or perhaps," he suggested softly, "Drake is the only one with the power to confront a demon and survive."
"That wasn't even subtle, Hades."
"I wasn't trying to be."
"No." She perused his face. "That's one of the things I like about you. At least it's good to know your feelings on the outcome of this vote. What would you do if it goes against Drake?"
Dangerous to let her know, but perhaps the thought of fighting amongst the Sicarii would give her pause. "The question isn't, what would I do? The question is," he suggested, stepping closer, "what wouldn't I?"
* * *
As much as Verity found herself liking Marie Adams very much, the second the woman's back was turned as she looked for thread to take in the dress Verity wore, Verity vanished.
All it took to track Bishop was the lock of his hair that she'd stolen the first time she met him. Verity could find anything, once she'd got a feel of it. Thus she found herself staring up at the British Museum, thankful that it was free to the general public as that lingering tug pulled her inside.
In the hall, she found her mark talking to a woman wearing white ruffles. Images shifted over his face, making it difficult to see, but then it finally settled into his dark, watchful expression.
Bishop was a dark flame, the woman his opposite. Veering left, Verity meandered into the mammal chamber as if she were interested in the displays. Pausing in front of some sort of stuffed creature, Verity stared at the nameplate, pretending to read it as she eased out the faintest touches of power. This was her most complex weave and difficult to hold for long periods of time, but she was insanely curious about just what he was up to. Through the glass case she watched the older woman lead him into a smaller room filled with three others, whose faces shifted in and out of perception. Clearly some kind of spell work was involved, but she'd never seen the like.
The eavesdropping rift opened just near her ear as she watched them from a distance.
"—let us be blunt: We've never encountered a scenario like this in all the years of the Order's history," said a sneering male voice. "How is this going to affect the stability of the Order? There are those who might not care for the new Prime, who would look to Drake and see a figurehead to return to glory—"
"He's made it clear he doesn't ever intend to resume his mantle as Prime," Bishop cut in.
"Yes, but who knows what the future holds?" the man responded.
"If the new Prime cannot hold their position, then they're not qualified to lead," Bishop countered. "Unless you'd like to hold their hand, Osiris? Perhaps you can nursemaid an ineffective Prime through his leadership years."
A faint laugh greeted his words.
"The Sicarii remain apart," said the woman in white, who was the only one whose face didn't flicker and change. "Nobody's holding anybody's hand. We serve, we protect. That is all."
Sicarii. Oh, hell. Verity swallowed. This was clearly a meeting of the very people that she wanted to avoid.
"And one might argue that we cannot predict what will happen," Bishop responded. "Perhaps a new Prime will falter? Or perhaps a powerful new Prime steps into the chair and the Order happily continues its course? There's nothing to say that Drake's ongoing life will cause difficulties."
"I don't like it," the man he'd called Osiris said bluntly. "It's a potential threat."
"And I say it’s not," Bishop countered, in a very soft, very dangerous voice.
"Shall we take a vote?" asked another woman, someone younger, wearing brown. "Who believes Drake should be removed from the equation?"
Watching Bishop's face, Verity saw the strain he couldn't quite hide.
"I do," said the man named Osiris.
"I agree," muttered the woman in brown.
"I say nay," Bishop muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Thanatos?" the older woman murmured.
Another man, one who'd remained silent, seemed to frown. "It's too early to commit to action," he finally said. "Do we snuff a candle flame because it may burn out of control and burn our house down? No. So I say no. For now."
"I agree with Thanatos," said the older woman. "It's too early to make predictions. Drake can be... removed later if he becomes a threat. For now we watch and wait, and prepare for Ascension." Bishop let out the breath he'd been holding, but the older woman cocked her head on an angle and held out a hand to still him. "We're being watched."
Verity froze.
"Madrigal?" Bishop asked, looking around.
"Someone is watching this meeting."
Verity didn't wait around to see what the woman was up to. Cutting the connection, she watched the rift hiss closed, and then immediately slipped into the crowd of Londoners who were enjoying the exhibits. The rules of the chase were simple: don't get caught. Which meant that she forced herself to stop and peruse something called a hairy-nosed wombat, making her magic very small inside her, so small and hidden she was holding her breath.
They'd be looking for someone on the move, someone pushing against the tide of people, fighting for the exits.
Instead, Verity slowly edged toward the exit at the back, forcing herself not to fidget, nor to move from exhibit to exhibit too quickly. She was almost clear when someone grabbed her by the arm.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Bishop demanded, pressing her into an alcove with the hard flex of his body. "Are you insane? I told you to stay at Agatha's!"
The unyielding wall of his body hid the rest of the room from view. Verity tipped her chin up. "I didn't realize you were meeting with the rest of the Sicarii. Else I wouldn't be here."
"Then why did you come?" Those dark eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Verity glanced away. "I overheard your conversation last night, and wanted to see who you were meeting. I thought it might have something to do with the Chalice, and you were trying to keep me in the dark."
"Overheard?" His voice was soft with sarcasm.
"Very well, I eavesdropped," she bit out. "You were performing some sort of magic. I wanted to know what it was."
The tension in his shoulders lingered, but he wasn't looming so obviously at her now. "You don't trust me."
There wasn't much she could say to that. "It's not personal," she pointed out. "I grew up in the Hex, Bishop, and the only way to make sure you weren't going to be dragged under was to make sure you were informed."
"Did you spy on Murphy like this?"
"All the time."
Thought darkened his eyes. He pushed away from her and the wall she was pressed against before glancing around. "Well, as you can see," he bit out, glancing around, "I wasn't going behind your back. I didn't want you here for quite obvious reasons."
"They were planning to kill the Prime." She let herself touch his arm gently. It was his father, after all, and she'd heard his tone during the meeting. "Bishop—"
"They were thinking about it," he replied, jerking free as if he couldn't bear her touch. "And I convinced them otherwise. Now come. They should have gone by now. Keep your head down and in future, if I tell you not to follow me, don't follow me. You could have been killed."
"They'd have to catch me first."
That earned her a scoring look. "Verity, the Sicarii aren't ordinary sorcerers. Catching you wouldn't be a problem. And one of them wouldn't even have to try. All she'd need to do would be to click her fingers... and you'd be dead. No matter where you vanished to."
A chill ran through her. "I won't follow you in future then."
And she was going to stay as far away from the Sicarii as she could.
Chapter 10
"SIT." LADY EBERHARDT pointed dramatically at the daybed in her sitting room.
Verity didn't bother to argue. Bishop shot her a look as though surprised at her compliance, but she'd had enough of arguing today.
"I'm so sorry," Marie said, wringing her hands. "I swear she was there one moment, then gone the next."
"It's not your fault, Marie." Bishop smiled at the secretary. "Verity has a problem with following orders and trusting others. You couldn't have stopped her."
Verity folded her hands in her lap and pressed her lips together. She was not going to bite.
"Meek does not become you," Lady Eberhardt grumbled under her breath as she circled the daybed.
"That's when she's at her most dangerous," Bishop agreed.
Verity couldn't help herself. "I am not!"
He crossed his arms over his broad chest. "You are too."
"Adrian, don't you have somewhere to be?" Lady Eberhardt interrupted, which clearly surprised him. "I'm going to put Verity into a trance and try and see if I can break through the memory hex. You're only going to be a distraction. Clearly."
There was not quite a harrumph on the end of that.
"I was going to see Drake, and let him know of the circumstances."
"Now would be as good a time as any." Not quite a command, but then who would argue against Lady Eberhardt?
"I'll see him out." Marie tucked a hand through his arm. "We'll make sure Verity stays safely here this time."
"Good luck," he muttered as she tugged him through the door.
"I heard that!" Verity called.
Silence fell, broken only by his footsteps on the stairs. Verity turned her attention back to the dragon whose den she'd suddenly found herself in. Lady Eberhardt glared at her. "If you bother that boy...."
"Yes, yes," Verity sighed. "I know. You'll knot me into a quilt."
A beady eye glared back at her as the lady took a seat opposite her, one hand curled around the handle of an ebony cane. "Impertinence is most unbecoming in a young lady."
"I can only imagine you were the very essence of pertinence yourself in your youth," Verity replied.
"Are you giving me cheek?"