“The journal notes aren’t clear as to the landmarks. A local might be able to pinpoint the exact location, but I decided against compromising the document by the presence of an outsider. I’ll be taking almost everybody. We have a lot of ground to cover.”
A dim light broke through the foggy melancholy in John’s head. He was being told this on purpose.
“I’m leaving two slayers and a guardian to protect the house. It’s a formality at this point anyway. There is nothing valuable here save for you and Posad, of course, and besides, the traps will do most of the protecting on their own.”
“Once the unit is located and the extraction is complete, I’ll send a retrieval team for you. I’m sure you’d rather rest here than slog through the mud with the rest of us. I hope your forced isolation won’t be a problem?”
John smiled. “No, m’lord. I’m badly in need of sleep.”
“Ahhh.” Spider nodded, gray eyes neutral under the blond eyebrows. “I’ll leave you to the comfort of the sheets and down, then.”
They exited onto the second-floor balcony. The wind brought dampness from the flooded plain below. John shivered. “Ghastly place.”
“Mildly put.” Spider ran his left hand along the balcony’s carved rail and smiled, showing even, sharp teeth. The smile shot a bolt of alarm through John’s neck all the way to his fingertips. He yawned, trying to mask his discomfort.
“John, you’re exhausted.” Spider patted his shoulder. “To bed with you.”
“By your leave, m’lord.”
“Go, go.” Spider waved at him. “That yawn of yours is infectious.”
John bowed and strode to his quarters. Spider had the translation, but he had left the journal back in the fusion room. He expected him to make a play for it. A man less ambitious and more cowardly would walk away. He should walk away. But the journal called to him. The knowledge it contained . . . A secret to life, perhaps even to everlasting life. Armed with it, he could seek asylum in any realm. He would enjoy the accolades of a genius, protected and admired for the rest of his life, given an opportunity to take his work in the direction he desired, instead of being steered by a thug. For Spider was a thug, an intelligent, urbane, royally licensed one, but still a thug. The difference between him and a common street boss was the degree of devastation he could unleash.
John entered his room and locked the door. He had to wait until Spider left tomorrow and then he would have to be careful. Very careful.
THE scent laced William’s nostrils just as he approached the house, the sharp musk of a wolf having freshly marked his territory. He tensed.
A large older man stood before the door within a swarm of giddy dogs. Large, wide at the shoulder, he wore jeans and a leather vest. His hair was long and gray, and it fell over his back.
“Easy,” Cerise murmured next to him. “Easy. It’s just Uncle Hugh.”
The man turned and looked at him. A pale glow rolled over his eyes. A wolf.
A low rumble rolled in his throat. “He’s—”
Cerise slipped her arm into the crook of his elbow. “Like you. I only found out a few days ago. He’s a very kind man, Will.”
Hugh watched them approach. His face showed nothing.
William halted a few feet away. When two changelings met outside of the Red Legion, it never worked out well. He didn’t want a confrontation now. Not after he had finally mated.
“Uncle Hugh!” Cerise walked over and hugged him.
“Ceri.” He hugged her awkwardly and let go. “I came to help.”
“Thank you!”
“Who is this?”
“This is my William.”
Hugh looked at her, then at William. “Your William?”
She nodded. “With all of his fur, claws, and teeth.”
Hugh startled as if shocked with a live wire. Cerise petted his forearm. His gaze shifted to William. “Adrianglian?”
William nodded.
“They turn you into killers there.”
“We were born killers.”
Hugh’s eyes turned pale yellow. “If you mistreat her, I’ll rip your throat out.”
William let a touch of growl slip into his voice. “Old man, I’ll drop you where you stand.”
“That’s nice,” Cerise said. “Why don’t all of us go inside and have some tea and pie?”
Hugh didn’t move.
“Hugh,” Murid called from the porch.
He glanced at her.
“Leave the boy alone,” she said.
Hugh shrugged his shoulders and petted Cerise’s hand. “If he ever—”
“He won’t hurt me.” Cerise put her other hand on William’s forearm. “He loves me, Uncle. Come on.”
William growled a bit and let her lead him to the stairs.
The door banged, releasing Kaldar onto the porch.
William sighed and heard Hugh do the exact same thing. They scowled at each other over Cerise’s head.
Kaldar rolled his eyes. “Oh, that’s just lovely. We’ve turned the house inside out looking for you, and here you are. Did you have fun, lovebirds?”
“None of your business,” Cerise told him.
“To the library with you. We’re holding the war council there.”
William let himself be ushered into the crowded library, where he was asked to sit in a chair in front of the table containing half a dozen dusty bottles of green wine. The library was full of Mars. No children were present, only the older adolescents and adults. The war party for tomorrow.
Erian passed around cups made of some hollowed-out plant. “Swamp gourd,” he said. “Tradition.”
“You didn’t do this before fighting with the Sheeriles.” William took his cup.
“That was different,” Erian said.
“The Sheeriles were Edgers, like us,” Mikita boomed to the left.
“The Hand and its agents are invaders,” Murid added.
Richard looked at Cerise. She pulled out her sword and handed it to him. “I think you should do it.”
Richard took the sword. A hush fell on the room.
He held the blade out above the bottles. His face took on an expression of intense concentration.
A second passed. Another.
That was why Cerise was in charge, William decided. In battle, Richard would be dead by now.
Magic flashed from Richard, an intense electric blue. It danced along his blade. He struck and beheaded the six bottles with one strike.