Chapter 8 #3
I clear my throat. “Uh, thanks.” Change the subject. Change the subject. “Um, what are you all doing back here anyway? I thought you were out for the afternoon.”
“Percy called us back,” David says, leaning over his desk and waking up his computer. “We have a meeting with him in a few minutes.”
“Oh.” I desperately want to ask what about, because last-second meetings with all of them aren’t common and usually mean something big is happening, but it’s really not my business, and I’m already skating on thin ice professionally, what with the porn thing.
Everyone gets busy at their desks, checking email and the like, and I sink back in my chair and thank every imaginary deity I can think of that that’s over.
An email notification pops up in the lower right corner of my screen. Dread rises in me.
It’s just an email, right? Probably about work. I’ve been waiting on responses from a few archivists. It would be immature and stupid not to check it.
Besides, what’s the worst it could be?
I flip windows to my email. The new one is sitting there at the top. It’s from David, who’s sitting literally feet away from me, and the subject line says Just so you know…
I really don’t want to open it, but he’s probably watching me and waiting for a response. Can I pretend I haven’t seen it?
Grow up, Noah .
I click the email and scan it.
Vanilla sex is not a bad thing, but you can ask me and Sam anything, no jokes, no teasing, and absolute confidentiality. Porn is probably not the best place to learn about kinky sex.
Kill. Me. Now.
I know he means well, but this is not something I ever want to discuss with my work supervisor-slash-friend, no matter how good a guy he is.
Still…
I hit reply.
Thanks .
My fingers hover over the keyboard for a few moments more, but I really don’t know what else to say. So I send it, then make myself look over at him and smile gratefully.
That smile becomes more natural when they all leave a minute later for their meeting.
I’ve managed to push my embarrassment to the back of my mind and am dug into an archive of translations from a tomb that seem to hint about magic use when Elinor sticks her head in.
“Noah? Could you join us, please?”
Instantly I know something is wrong. She’s too somber.
Don’t get me wrong, Elinor is a badass professional—she was scary as fuck during the raid on the compound—but in noncombat situations, there’s usually a twinkle in her eye, like life’s a big joke and she’s in on it.
Most hellhounds have it. Andrew told me it’s a defect in their biological makeup, but he was smiling fondly at the time.
Also, if everything was good, why would they be asking me to join them in an emergency meeting?
“Sure.” I match her serious voice and stand. “Do I need to bring anything?”
She shakes her head, so I lock my computer and follow her down the hall. They’re meeting in Percy’s office, which is unusual. Most of the time when it’s all of them, they book a meeting room. I’ve never thought to wonder why.
All faces turn toward us as we enter. Elinor closes the door, then there’s a pause while everyone looks at David.
“Done,” he says, and I realize he was activating the super wards.
“Thanks for coming, Noah,” Percy says, managing to convey warmth and welcome even with his somber face and tone. “Please sit.”
Elinor takes the empty armchair, which leaves me with either the floor, standing, or the empty spot on the couch beside Andrew. I push all my sexual frustration into a tiny ball, lock it down hard, and sit. The couch is pretty roomy, but I can still feel the heat of his body radiating toward me.
Concentrate.
“We’ve found Tish.”
I lean forward quickly. “Where? Is he here?” My hands go clammy. Please let him be far away.
“He’s not here. And even if he was, you’re safe. We’re going to keep you safe,” Percy reiterates firmly.
I shake my head. “I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make this about me.”
Andrew pats my arm, probably intending it to be a reassuring gesture, and I’m a little freaked by how much I want to lean into his support.
“You’re fine, Noah. He’s in the last place we ever thought to look for him—a compound in the northwest run by humans. Fundamentalist doomsday types awaiting the second coming.”
It takes a few seconds for that to sink in. “He’s hiding with religious humans?”
Alistair shakes his head ruefully. “Based on the intelligence report, he’s convinced them he’s an agent of god and that they need to follow him.”
A sick feeling churns in my stomach. Don’t people in those compounds stockpile weapons? We do not need Tish with an army at his back. “How is that even possible?”
“There’s a precedent,” Andrew reminds me. “It’s not the first time a sorcerer has twisted human religious beliefs—but last time, the intentions were good.”
What’s he— Oh. Right. The sorcerer who claimed to be the son of god in order to help humans. Depending on how you look at it, it was either an epic failure or a rousing success.
“So he’s, what, performing ‘miracles’”—I make air quotes—“to convince them he’s legit?
And then he’ll bring them to… fight us? How many of them are there?
” This just doesn’t make sense. Tish’s goal with the genetic experimentation was to increase community numbers to the point that enslavement of humanity was possible.
While on the surface it seems like he’s found himself a group of humans willing to fulfill his every whim, it’s unlikely they’ll just docilely serve him forever.
Eventually they’re going to want to leave their compound with their religious figurehead and shove him down everyone else’s throat.
And then where will Tish be? A single sorcerer could never stand against the kind of forces the human government could bring, even if the community didn’t intervene—which it totally would. So what’s Tish’s end game here?
“We’re not sure yet,” David says. “And our goal is to not let it get to the point where we are. The thing about these groups is, the leaders are very rarely truly devout. They use religion to build themselves little dictatorships where the benefits all flow up to them. The information we have shows the leader of this group to be no different, and while he supports the idea of converting others by force, he doesn’t seem to be that happy about his position being usurped by Tish.
His ‘council of advisors’ are solidly with him on that, since Tish brought his own ‘disciples’ with him. ”
I’m confused by that until I remember the other researchers who escaped with him. For some reason, I’d pushed all thoughts of them out of my head and focused all my angst on Tish.
“So if the leadership isn’t supporting him, how…?”
Gideon huffs. “You were right before—he’s been ‘conducting miracles.’ Basically walked up to the gate and began weaving; never even asked to speak to the leader.
He has most of the lower ranks in the compound thinking he’s a divine messenger, and the leadership can’t refuse to follow his lead without explaining that they’re not interested in religion so much as accumulating wealth and power for themselves.
” His grin is vicious. “If we approach them right, they’ll sell him out. ”
I like this idea. “Hand him over to us, you mean? Are you sure? How would they explain it to their people?”
“It gets a little tricky there,” Alistair admits. “The easiest way would be to denounce him as an imposter, but there’s a risk that doing so would expose us.”
David takes over. “The thing about using sorcery to perform so-called miracles is that it’s not sustainable long-term.
An experienced sorcerer with years of study behind them can create many weaves quickly, even with just a second’s thought, but a lot of weaves are complicated, and no matter how good you are, they take time.
Some, you can prep ahead of time and just finish when you need them, but it’s not like you can keep an endless store.
You have to know what you’ll need and prep it.
Most of the miracles he’ll have been performing will be small things, with the occasional big one that he prepped ahead of time. ”
“So lots of glowing lights and hovering glassware, but not so much with the healing sick people?”
David’s smile is not nice. I’m taken aback by it—this is a side of him I’ve never seen.
He’s always so caring and calm and focused that I forgot he would also have to be tough as nails and fairly ruthless to have gotten to where he is.
“Tish can’t heal people. That’s not one of his skills.
Not unless their illness is genetic, and even then, it would take a huge effort with nothing to show immediately.
He has the same general sorcery ability that we’re all born with, but his specialty is gene manipulation.
If someone were to ask him to heal them—or for anything else that couldn’t be achieved with a quick, basic weave—he’d be stuck. ”
“We think the best option at this stage is to get a message to the leaders identifying him as a fake. A con man and a charlatan. They would then—hopefully—seize advantage of this opportunity to denounce him to their followers. The most obvious way would be to ask him to perform a specific miracle,” Percy says.
“He won’t be able to, of course, and even if he comes up with an excuse, it’s going to foster doubt. ”
“What about the people with him?” I ask.
“What are their skills? Could any of them do it and pass it off as him?” I was shown pictures of the researchers who fled with Tish, and I recognized them as other higher-ranked doctors from the labs.
They would come around with Tish to oversee specific tests, but mostly we only saw the lab assistants and guards.