Chapter 7
Both Maximus and Donovan pass out asleep as soon as we return to the apartment.
I’m so fucking jealous, but also too wound up to even attempt the same.
Shedding the uniform I’d donned for the assembly, I pull out a navy Dries Van Noten suit.
The exquisite wool flannel soothes a little of my frayed edges, but it’s not enough to have me fully functional.
And I’ve already drunk the coffee pot dry—metaphorically.
I don’t drink coffee from a ‘pot’ but my gold pour-over coffee cone has been put through its paces.
I’m knotting a tie when someone pounds on the apartment door.
Neither Dono, nor Maximus stir, so I open it myself.
Feniks is there, flanked by Theodora’s Defectivum friends.
“Ten minutes until my ride is here,” I mutter, “so make it fast.”
Walking past Donovan, I give him a kick. “Wake up, asshole.” At the same time, Fenicks flicks his cousin on the forehead. “Up, now! Concentrate!” he barks.
Sometimes I think that fake professor and I could be friends.
Max yawns and peels open a lid, fixing his gaze on me. “Man, you look rough.”
“Haven’t slept in thirty-six hours, remember? And now I have to face a Conclave meeting, so keep your remarks to yourself.”
“Chill,” Maximus groans, sitting up. “Tie a cashmere sweater over your shoulders or something, that normally makes you feel better.”
Donovan puts a hand on my back. “Coffee?”
I shrug him off. “I now have six minutes. Talk, Feniks.”
He nods. I’m glad he understands the urgency.
“Ludo is still AWOL. Maximus tracked him to the building site. After dark we are considering shifting to get him out.” He gives me a piercing look. “You are going back to the capitol, so have the most chance of tracking down Theo—or Wes. Do you have a strategy for that?”
Do I? My brain feels like scrambled eggs.
“Er, I’ll have to play it by ear. Who the fuck knows what’s going down tonight.”
Someone presses a bottle of water into my hand. Bloomhower. “Hydrate,” she says.
I unscrew the top and chug the whole lot.
It does help a little, but now it’s time to go. “Keep in touch,” I say, not sure who I’m really addressing. Maybe all of them.
“Yeah, be careful, Cos,” Dono says, pulling me into a brief hug. “And find my girl.”
Gods help me. “I’ll try.”
Max is fumbling through a bag, and as I exit the penthouse, he presses something into my hand. “It might help,” he says, giving me a tired wink.
I’ve no time to examine his ‘gift’ so pocket it and head to the elevators.
???
I get into the back of the appointed ride with seconds to spare.
My father’s driver, a man with a thuggishly wide neck, gives me the side-eye. “Almost late.”
Fucker. Peasant. “None of your concern. Now drive.”
He’s already pulling away.
The towncar heads out of the main gates, then instead of turning towards the main route, it veers onto a forest service road. The tires bounce over the muddy track as we skirt the dense treeline outside of the Academy’s eastern perimeter.
Where the fuck are we going? I don’t imagine this road is on any official maps.
Suddenly, we are at the end of the lane and I realize the car has dead ended against a section of wall.
A section of Validus Vale Academy border wall.
What the fuck?
A few camo-clad guards emerge from the woods. The driver lowers his window and mumbles something. I don’t catch it, and am too tired and slow to cast a listening spell in time.
Wake up, Drakeward.
I blink several times.
Am I so tired I’m hallucinating? It’s almost as though…
The stone barrier in front of us just melts away, revealing what looks like the entrance to a fucking shipping container. “What’s going on?” I snap, but the driver doesn’t answer. He drives slowly and carefully into the metal container box.
The low lighting inside shows a hollow shell.
I exit the vehicle. Yet another man, this time in full black, retracts a sliding door. “This way, sir.”
An elevator shaft. Sophisticated, not like mining hoist and cage. The doors quietly close and we descend.
The pressure change makes my ears pop. My guess is we are going down into the depths of hell.
When the doors open again, the scent of chemicals and magic hits me.
This is it; the source of the dark energy, and apparently the Conclave’s hidden subterranean labs.
How very…James Bond.
I’m led to a cavernous room that is already filled with at least a dozen Conclave members, probably more. They’re huddled in groups and I can’t make out any of the conversation, but there is a definite air of excitement.
Tyrus Drakeward isn’t present, but I see Crankshawe and his semen demon, Francois. The sight of them makes my skin crawl.
Who else is here?
Karl Schweinesteiger and Roger Cox.
Singleton-Smith is standing next to Manu Hale’s mother. Movement catches my eye. A hand is raised to get my attention.
Fuck, really?
Professor Gimble gives me an intense look, curling her lips in a way that is probably meant to be sensual. The old bitch has been trying to suck my cock ever since I arrived at the academy.
I move in the other direction and find a position with the wall to my back. I really need to try and keep surprises to the minimum.
My eyes begin to close.
No!
Clenching my fists, I come across a tiny bottle in my pocket. Pulling it out, I realize it’s what Max gave me. A vial of Augmentis.
You know what? Liquid energy is exactly what I need right now.
One swallow and the potion surges through my veins and everything is brighter. My senses go on alert.
I can sense the dark, poisonous energy mixed into the air.
It’s awful, but now that I'm more awake, I can feel Theodora’s Lumina working inside me like an immune system, fighting to destroy the invading evil.
Gods, I pray I have enough.
On some unspoken command the room goes quiet, a side door opens and my blood runs cold. There’s Theodora. She’s dressed in her Defectivum uniform and looks too rigid, her eyes glassy and fixed on a point somewhere over my head.
Wes is beside her. They walk stiffly into the space, followed by my father.
"Ah, Cosmo," Tyrus’s voice cuts across the low hum of chatter. "Come and stand here with your friends, you too, Francois."
As I take my place next Theodora, I try to keep my face cold and collected but it’s difficult.
Her shoulders are slumped and she looks diminished. Ashen. Has she been corrupted in the same manner as Wes?
Shit. I’m an idiot.
—Theodora?—
She doesn't flinch at the sound of my mental voice.
—Can you hear me, Theodora?—
My heart sinks, but then, very quietly, she replies.
—Yes—
Oh, thank fuck.
My heart sings to know my little dud is still herself.
I don’t even question why I feel weak with relief. I know why. I am hers.
Another willing slave of Theodora Wilson.
Even though she stands for everything I previously held in contempt.
I care so fucking much.
Not that I expect her to care about me.
My changed heart is my own cross to bear, my self-imposed calvary.
Eyes forward.
Father strides to the center of the room. “Greetings, Magi, and welcome to the Conclave Scientific Center. Today we celebrate the ascension of a new coalition. This is the beginning step to a new world order.”
The heavy doors at the far end of the room slide open and the two Hart doctors walk in, and being dragged along between them?
A child.
A boy—no older than three maybe?
The kid has the hollow eyes of a broken soul. He slides a little thumb into his baby mouth and the pathos is excruciating.
The overhead lights hit the child’s skin and I see a faint, shadowy movement of dark energy beneath the child’s pale skin.
Just like the kid who was mutilated to ‘gift’ me the dark essence.
Shit. Fuck. Fuck them all. I want them all to die.
Behind the Harts follow the two Russians I met at the Capitol earlier; Ambassador Raskolov, and his second-in-command, Ivan Soltin.
The Ambassador looks gleeful.
The fucker.
A lab flunky accompanies them, wheeling a stainless steel hospital cart into the space. Tyrus really should have sprung for something a little more gothic.
"Positions," Janine Hart directs. She looks to my father. “Your Eminence?”
Eminence.
Cocksucker.
“Proceed,” he replies.
And the chanting begins. Jonquil takes the familiar curved knife from the rolling cart and slices into the kid’s wrist. The dragon beneath my skin screams for release.
Kill. Destroy.
My Father begins a new incantation, after a few rounds Janine joins him. They chant as red mist swirls out of the little boy’s bleeding wound.
Jonquil, a little nervously—because he’s a complete pussy, cuts the wrist of the Ambassador.
As the rhythm of the incantation picks up, the air temperature in the room drops.
The toxic taste in my mouth doubles, turning bitter and oily. Strangely, the sigil that binds me to my parent only tingles slightly.
Ever since Theodora saved me from the black essence, its power has faded to almost nil.
Into the hypnotic soundscape, the boy lets out a thin, high-pitched wail, then drops onto the floor.
Before I even understand what I’m doing, I take a step forward.
—DON’T—
Freeze.
—Please, Cosmo. You can’t do anything yet. Wait—
—Gods, Theodora. This is so fucked up—
—Yes. But we’re helpless right now. We just need to get through tonight, then we can act—
The process continues as the red and black shadows begin to sink into the ambassador’s arm. I clamp down the urge to shift, to attack. If I break cover now, there are no guarantees of Theodora’s safety.
—Breathe—
The chant hits a crescendo, and the ambassador’s eyes fly back in his head, his muscles bulging as the raw, corrupted power surges into his system.
Raskolov is ascending.
The Russian lets out a long, shuddering breath—then flexes first one hand and then the other. The air around his fist ripples with a distorted heat and black mist.
"Success," Janine Hart whispers, her gaze passing nonchalantly over the unconscious, or perhaps dead, boy on the floor.
My father turns his predatory gaze toward Theodora and the desire and hunger on his face turns my stomach.
I subtly stretch out a hand until my pinky brushes against hers.
—I won’t let him have you—
Father signed his own death warrant years ago.
—He will never have me—
Finally, Theodora Wilson and I agree on something.