“Yes, quite right,” said the blond man, rallying somewhat. “You take him, I’ll kill the Rook.” He drew a wicked-looking combat knife from inside his coat and moved toward the car. The thugs spread out before the Bishop, who stepped off the bank and dropped several meters to land smooth and unruffled.
“I won’t let you kill her,” said Odette to the blond man as he approached. Both spurs were unsheathed, and her knees were bent slightly, ready to move. To get at Rook Thomas, he’d have to climb in through the torn roof of the car. She set her mind. If he comes in here, he’s getting the octopus venom.
“You couldn’t possibly stop me, Odette.”
“How do you know me?” she asked. He’s not an Antagonist; they wouldn’t talk to me like this.
“I’m wounded that you don’t recognize me,” said the man. “But we’ll chat about that later. I really, really want to kill this woman right now.” His fist blurred out and cracked Odette on the side of her face before she could react. She staggered, and her back hit the jagged metal where the roof had been torn. Her knees buckled and she went down on the floor of the car. The blond man vaulted in through the hole in the roof easily, swinging his legs in like a farmer going over a fence.
“You won’t,” she said, and lunged at him, her spurs out. He dropped the knife and caught her wrists easily.
“You’re out of your league, Odette. But it sounds like I really need to hurry this up.” Outside the car, there were ominous sounds of thuds and tearing. A high, howling scream cut off into a wet gasp. He forced her wrists to the side and slammed his head into hers. The world flashed, and her legs went buttery.
I think I’m going to throw up, she thought fuzzily. Now the man’s grip was the only thing holding her up, and he let her go. She felt herself slither into a puddle. I can’t let him... She reached out weakly with her arm, and he planted a foot pointedly on her wrist and forced it onto the floor. He bent over and picked up his knife.
“Finally,” he said, and there was a terrible eagerness as he looked down on the Rook. And then the expression on his face changed. Odette made an effort and focused beyond him. Bishop Alrich was perched on the peeled-back portion of the roof. His hair, face, and clothes were bloody, and his hand was closed around the blond man’s throat.
“We should have a conversation,” said the Bishop. The blond man’s face twisted in frustration.
“Damn it! So close. Well, there’s always next time.” He shrugged, and Odette saw his eyes unfocus as he went limp in the Bishop’s hand. The knife dropped to the floor.
“Well, that’s disappointing,” remarked the Bishop.
32
“Before we begin, should Pawn Clements really be present?” asked Sir Henry. Felicity flushed and looked down at her feet. In the wood-paneled conference room, she was the only one standing. At one end of the table was the entire Court of the Checquy. She had been a trifle amused to note that they’d arrayed themselves in the positions of pieces on the chessboard, with the Lord and Lady flanked by the Bishops, who were flanked by the Chevs, who were flanked by the Rooks. Apparently, Rook Thomas was the Lady’s Rook. Felicity herself was standing against the wall behind Rook Thomas.
At the other end of the table were four representatives of the Broederschap. Odette looked very small between Marcel and Ernst. Marie, her hair a rich mahogany, was sitting on the other side of Ernst. The distance between the two parties was not great, but it seemed very significant at that moment.
“I requested that Pawn Clements join us,” said Rook Thomas. “I have absolute confidence in her discretion, and I believe that she can provide some important information.”
“Very well, then,” said Sir Henry. “Let us proceed.” As one, the Court looked across to the members of the Broederschap. “Graaf van Suchtlen, earlier this evening, an attack occurred. Bishop Alrich observed that it was very specifically targeted at a member of this Court. The leader of the attackers, who has apparently lapsed into a state of catatonia, seemed to know Miss Leliefeld. A Checquy driver with no history of any unnatural abilities suffers a convulsion and vents a chemical weapon out of his skin — a weapon that appears to affect everyone except Miss Leliefeld. And the body parts of the attackers that our people managed to gather up, well, they show evidence of... alterations.” His face, which had been serious before, now looked distinctly stern — almost merciless. “This all combines to form a very troubling scenario. We require an explanation. A true and complete explanation. Otherwise, this is going to go to a very, very ugly place.”
The graaf’s face was expressionless, but he made a movement with his shoulder, like someone shifting to stretch a sore muscle. Everyone tensed, except for Lady Farrier, who rolled her eyes. The atmosphere in the room was icy, and all the occupants of the room, as if by agreement, had their hands flat on the table in front of them. All of them, that is, except Felicity, who had her hands clenched at her sides, and Marcel, who was making notes on some writing paper and seemed quite unaware of any tension.
Felicity wondered anxiously if she was going to be witness to the first executive-level battle since the last time the Americans came for dinner.
“Very well,” said the graaf finally. Just saying that seemed to have robbed him of his strength, because there was a pause sufficiently long that Marcel even looked up from his notes.
“Ernst,” said Rook Thomas reprovingly.
“I apologize. This is difficult. I am ashamed.” Odette looked up at him, startled. “I had hoped that we could resolve this trouble without ever revealing it to the Checquy, but we have failed.” He sighed. “For the past several months, we have been the subject of attacks, horrible attacks upon our facilities and our people. There have been deaths, mutilations, and sabotage.”
“Why on earth didn’t you tell us about this?” asked Chevalier Eckhart. “We could have come to your assistance, even in Europe. Who are these attackers? Do you know?”
“Oh yes,” said Ernst, and his voice shook with rage. “We know who they are. Among ourselves, we refer to them as the Antagonists, but in truth they are us. They are a splinter faction of the Broederschap.”
“Oh, bloody hell!” exclaimed Rook Thomas in disgust. Everyone stared at her in surprise. The Rook seemed enraged, and she looked up at the ceiling with her mouth twisted. “What is wrong with you people?” It was not immediately apparent to whom she was speaking. She shook her head and, with a visible effort, calmed herself down. “Go on,” she said coldly.
“It is the most shameful part, knowing that it is our own family members and colleagues who are responsible for this,” said Ernst hesitantly.
“And dare we ask why they are doing this?” asked Lady Farrier. “What is the cause of this schism?”
“You, of course,” said Ernst.
“Of course,” said Farrier flatly.
“When I announced that the Broederschap would be joining forces with the Checquy, there were some protestations.”
“Did you tell them about the pension plan?” asked Chevalier Whibley. “It’s index-linked.” He realized everyone was looking at him. “My apologies.”
“He didn’t tell them anything,” said Odette darkly. “Just that it would be happening.” Grootvader Ernst shot her a look, but she was staring down at her hands and didn’t notice.
“And it will be happening,” said Grootvader Ernst.
“Grootvader Ernst is accustomed to people doing what he tells them to,” said Odette.