“In those who care little for others, power shares only while it remains convenient.”
I nodded. “Raphael said Stavros prefers to remain alone, kept company only by those he's working on.”
“So Mussolgranz is hiding somewhere separately.”
“With his scalpel and dubious grasp on morality.”
“In a place where he can use them.”
We exchanged looks. “Spartine.”
I closed my eyes.
“Part of Spartine is a research facility that conducts tests on the prisoners who are never leaving. You must have a specific clearance to enter the labs. And that clearance is controlled by the Prestige of the Department.”
We exchanged glances.
“Good place for Mussolgranz to be now that the Basement is gone,” I admitted, shoulders slumping.
“Good place for Mussolgranz to be,” he concurred.
“Someone needs to tag the waterfront there.”
Everyone looked around with the same ill feeling descending. The combat mages were currently making certain Medical was locked down.
“O'Leary and Givens, that one's yours,” Axer said, almost distractedly, gaze firmly on the prison schematics.
Everyone looked at the pair. My heart rate skyrocketed.
They need this, Axer sent me mentally, soothing some of my panic. O'Leary's been on the edge of madness for days.
Patrick's eyes had gone dark as soon as the news about Medical had come through and Mike was tight-lipped. Will was barely keeping it together whenever he looked at his roommate.
But—
You have to let everyone do their part. Axer sent another soothing stroke to soften the words.
“Mike—” Will was fretting again.
Patrick smirked. There was a lot of darkness in it. “Don't worry, Tasky. Givens and I got this.”
Will looked uneasy. “Why don't you let me—”
“Nah. You'd try saving the puppies, too. Ain't got time for puppies, Tasky. Only marks.” His language had increasingly included a lot of odd quirks over the past few hours—shedding one skin to put on another.
“But—”
Patrick stepped over to him, eyes steely. “You get caught, it's game over. The weapon only you and Crown can carry? Going to need that.” Patrick's eyes went empty. “Besides, I need to be a hero too, right? Givens and I will do it. Say your goodbyes, Givens.”
A flash of cold swept through me.
Dark determination—of two different kinds—flashed across both of their faces. Mike grabbed the back of Will's neck. “It will be okay. I'm the master at hail. We'll be back in no time. I'll even let you skim the room when we are back on campus. Maybe we'll find my shorts.”
Delia was looking at the ground, unwilling to watch. Neph tugged her into her arms.
Patrick looked back at me. “See you on the flipside, Crown. If we don't see you before...well then, you kill Stavros for us, you hear?”
*
And like Stuart Leandred, Mike and Patrick never returned.
“They aren't dead,” Neph said, one arm around Will, one hand on my knee.
“O’Leary broke the vow,” Constantine said, looking at the threads he held. “He broke his connections.”
We all exchanged grim looks.
Inside the library during our last hour, we traded in our separate tables for one large one, our numbers more than halved. The mood was tense as we waited.
“Stuart Leandred and his entire inner circle were pronounced missing earlier today. Sources say that they went on a call to attempt to bring his son and the Origin Mage back in line, but that they never returned. Speculation is that they were obliterated by the Origin Mage at the Leandred scion's request. Sources who knew Constantine Leandred at Excelsine say that his relationship with his father grew even worse over the last few months when he showed an interest in Ren Crown.”
I stared at the Department feed, numb.
Constantine roughly shoved his papers to the side. “Stop listening to that. You didn't do it. I called him.”
I looked up at him. I didn't say anything, just sent my emotions—sadness, horror, love—at him. He shuddered and dropped his elbows to the desk, roughly rubbing his fingers through his hair.
“I've hated him forever. Seven years out of nineteen is a long time to hate.”
I didn't say anything, just continued to offer my support in a steady stream of emotion, leaning in to press my arm against his. What could I say? That his father loved him? That he wouldn't blame his son? That he had worked to try to be a better man, but that didn't mean Constantine had to forgive him for what he had done?
Constantine shuddered again and let his head drop on top of mine. “It doesn't matter.”
It very obviously mattered. And dealing with death was an intimate part of my existence now. But in this, I had no words. Only comfort.
“As opposed to the lies being spread by the Department, Stuart Leandred had delivered a number of damaging and destructive reports mere seconds before his untimely disappearance. The Department immediately tried to hush them, but they were released to public frequencies and spread too quickly. Public fervor is starting to lean heavily toward Stuart Leandred's disappearance being a conspiracy led by the Prestige. Ironically, Department sources are trying to claim the Origin Mage's involvement. But every damning piece of evidence had to do with the Prestige and those close to him. The hunt for the Origin Mage's capture has accelerated. Some, however, are advocating a trial now, a stark contrast from—”
“The Department can't control it. The media is turning,” Olivia said from across the table as we all determinedly finished our last pieces of work. “Wide public opinion will be next.”
“Yes,” Axer said. I could see his magic combining with mine to twirl around Constantine.
“Bellacia is unraveling the web. Stavros has been the one running the anti-feral sentiment. He is the one who seeded it into magicist circles most strongly. It boosted the magicist agenda, which has always been about protecting one’s own people.” Olivia flipped a page. “And they don't like to be hoodwinked. They will serve him up. He's not going to wait. This is it.”
I scrolled through Constantine’s illegal confidence game device—Five Man Act, Old Man and a Firebrand, Three Man Sneak, Treacherous Don, Center Fitting, Scope of Tears, Death in a Style…
Axer leaned over and his finger flipped the list to technical gambits. He tapped one highlighting “Drill Sandwich” and it popped up a complicated series of images and specs. “This one. We’ll need your friend Dagfinn working with other darkcomm mages.”
“The labs will be gone. He’ll have to take you to where he is.”
“But he’ll have other measures in place there. Higher forms of control. He’s a sociopathic empath. He’ll know exactly what to use.”
“And he’ll rely on it.”
“That’s part of the problem with taking over the world,” Olivia said. “In order to think you can do it, you have to believe you can. And it means you approach the tipping point where confidence becomes overconfidence.”