“I don’t care,” the demi says through her teeth.
I shrug and go back to focusing on the road. I didn’t see any signs of Prince Kieran or his minion wraiths when we were leaving the safety of the house, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t watching. The prince is crafty and determined. Since this demigoddess is the daughter of his mother’s rival, she—along with her possible power—would be a great prize. All he’d have to do is convince her to ally herself with the House of Morrígan rather than Brighid at the Emergence ceremony. History is pretty clear: another Bond between Morrígan and Brighid kin would be deadly. But Kieran likely doesn’t care. And he’s well known for his dark and effective ways of persuasion.
The idea of this reed of a girl in his talons stirs an unusual amount of unease in my gut.
But I’m guessing Marius plans to earn this girl’s allegiance at any cost, especially with our ranks in the House of Brighid being so depleted. There’s no way he’ll allow her to be cajoled away from her origin, where she belongs—not this gem. She’ll need to be contained, controlled by whoever helps her transition.
A task I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
Marius was right when he said we should be cautious. We’re far outside of normal right now, thanks to the rarity of her blood along with her late arrival. We aren’t even sure how much power she’ll possess or how it might sway her soul as it bubbles up. And after what her sister became, the danger of her following suit and going mad is very real for everyone.
I pull the car into the parking garage and up to the valet booth. The young man, a shade who’s been working the night shift at Marius’s building for a few weeks—I think his name is Samuel—opens the door for the demi.
No, not “the demi.” She wants me to think of her as Sage. I need to get used to that. I’m not normally on a first-name basis with the demi elite, but this is the deal I made with Marius: to open myself to her a little upon meeting her, to help gain her loyalty for our House from the very start. I need to help her feel comfortable and safe while she’s with me—get her to trust me.
I may have allowed that part of the plan to go a bit sideways back at the house. I don’t like her energy, the way it makes me unsure and uneasy. It’ll be a relief to hand her over to Marius so he can match her with whoever ends up picking the short straw. I heard it was my old teacher, Cias. Poor bastard.
I toss Samuel the keys to the Audi and point Sage toward the elevator. “We’re this way.”
She follows. When we’re inside and the doors close, I feel her emotions shift a little, her nerves going from smoky anger to a slight chill of fear. “Who exactly is this guy we’re going to meet?”
“His name is Marius. He’s the leader of the House of Brighid—though he’s a child of Lyr, the god of the sea. Marius has chosen to give his allegiance to the goddess of fire instead. At times a demi will choose a House that isn’t their origin after they Emerge. There’s a lot that goes into it all, but you’ll learn.”
Sage gives me a sideways glance and hugs her middle. Ice crystals form on the wall behind her from her fear. She’s more vulnerable than I expected her to be. A delicate waif being sent to the gallows. I need to say something to calm her.
I clear my throat. “Your new clothes will have already been sent for. And you’ll likely have all-new electronics, a computer, a phone. You won’t have to worry about anything you left behind.”
She releases a shaky laugh.
“Once you’re settled, Marius will go over the daily schedule with you, and you can discuss any changes or preferences with him.”
She gives me an odd look. “Schedule?” she asks.
“Training, meals, tutoring—both practical and spiritual. You’ll be busy during the next few days as you ready for your Emergence, but you’ll get used to it.”
She asks casually, “So, are you Irish or something?”
I blink at her, unsure why she’s asking or why it’s relevant. I thought my accent had faded since I came to live in the States sixty years ago. “Yes. Born in the north.”
“Hmm . . .” She nods. “So you’d get the whole living-under-tyranny thing.”
I bite the inside of my lip to keep from smiling. “Marius will be sure you’re comfortable with the daily rhythm.”
“Wow,” she says in a dead tone. “I feel so much better.”
“You may find you enjoy your time of Emerging. You’ll certainly be doted on.”
“And maybe Ebola will prove to cure cancer. Who knows.”
My eye twitches. Just a few more minutes, and she’ll no longer be my responsibility.
We arrive on the fifteenth floor, and the elevator doors open to the lobby.
Sage doesn’t move. She just stares at the receptionist behind the tall desk across the room. “What is this place?”
I put a hand on the door to hold it open. “This is Marius’s firm. He’s working, but he wanted to talk to you before I take you to the house.”
“He’s a lawyer?” She doesn’t seem to like that idea.
“An architect.”
“It’s the middle of the night. Why’s he at work?” She shakes her head, shrinking back. She won’t look at me. “No way, this is too weird.”
I bite back a groan and let the doors close again, then push the hold button, turning to face her. “Look, Marius is a demigod. If he chooses not to rest, he doesn’t have to. The world of business never sleeps, so Marius rarely does either. He likes work, and he likes being productive; meeting him here at this time of night is the usual. It would only be weird to a human.” I lower my voice. “And you’re not a human, Sage.”
Her gaze skips to mine, and pain sparks in her hazel eyes. “You’re an ass,” she says under her breath. But her back straightens.
I push the hold button again. “An ass who tells you the truth. Sounds grand to me.” This time, when the doors open, I take her by the arm and pull her from the box, not giving her a chance to argue.
SIX
SAGE
I try to shake off Faelan’s hand, but he just grips me harder and tugs me along like I’m a child.
“Is everything all right?” the receptionist asks, looking from me to Faelan with a frown.
“Right as rain, Dana,” he answers with his annoying accent.
I mouth the word help at her, but she doesn’t move; she just watches us with wide eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses. Her shiny red lips purse in curiosity as we turn left and head down a long hallway.
“Nice try,” Faelan says to me. “She’s a pixie. And she was gawking because she knows whose daughter you are, not because I was dragging you out of an elevator.”
I deflate and study the surroundings as I’m pulled along. The décor is stark—black and white and gray. Gray wooden floors, and white glass walls that have odd black lines and shapes on them for decoration. Not a speck of color in sight.