Chapter Eleven
Carl’s steps echoed down the marble hallway as he made his way to the Grandmaster’s office. He was only ever summoned there to receive an important mission or his reward for completing one. It had been two short weeks since his last infusion, yet his knees were already aching, his breathing stifled, and he’d noticed several silver hairs when shaving this morning.
He couldn’t be sure if the Grandmaster was not giving him enough, if the magic was less potent, or if he had simply built up a tolerance, like he had to every other substance he’d used to numb himself the past eighty years. Either way, he was anxious for his next assignment.
He entered the office through the side door and slid the hidden panel closed behind him. The Grandmaster did not appear to notice him, but the witch standing against the wall nodded slightly.
Just like always, the Oracle’s crystal blue eye fixed on him and probed. He fought the instinct to squirm as she shuffled through his thoughts. He detested the blatant invasion, but wherever the Grandmaster was, the Oracle wasn’t far behind. His personal pet. She never spoke, except to the Grandmaster, and then usually only in his head. The rumor was that he’d taken her tongue when he’d taken her other eye. Apparently, she found nothing of interest in Carl’s brain, and he let out a deep breath as her magic released him.
The Grandmaster was talking quietly into his cell phone, his body hidden by the high back of his chair. It spun slowly to reveal a man apparently in his early forties, though he was ten times that old. His eyes—the only trait that showed his age—were hooded by his dark brows and the shadows in the dim room. Flashing his ornate gold cufflinks, he gestured for Carl to take one of the seats on the opposite side of the palatial desk.
Carl sat, nervously tugging at his Armani knock-off. He resisted the urge to drum his fingers as the Grandmaster finished his conversation.
The Oracle continued to stare.
“There’s no reason to assume the permit will not be approved in time. I assure you, I will do everything in my power to make sure we break ground on schedule. Why don’t you let me handle the details about that? The less you know, the better. No problem. That is what I’m here for. Very good.” He chuckled. “My pleasure, Governor.”
He clicked the phone off and set it gently on the desk, letting the artificial joviality seep away. His smile was anything but welcoming. Carl suppressed a shiver. He always thought it looked as though the Grandmaster was sucking on something sour when he tried to smile. Perhaps he’d grown so old, his face had forgotten how to form the expression.
“You brought me the wrong girl.”
Carl gaped at him, dumbstruck. Of all the possible reasons for a summons, this had not entered his mind. He’d never failed an assignment. The knowledge of what happened to those who did was enough to ensure that. The shadows of the room seemed to close in on him as he willed his heartbeat to stay steady and even. “I don’t understand. The girl I brought is a strong telepath—”
The Grandmaster waved away his excuse and leaned back in his leather chair, crossing one leg. “She is, and I will not rescind your payment for her, but she is not the one we were looking for. She’s not marked, and she is still too fragile to survive the marking ceremony, much less serve as a vessel.”
“But hers was the only magic signature at the hospital.”
“And that is problematic. We need the marked one we detected. She could not have gone far. You will find her for us.”
He glanced at the stoic woman behind the Grandmaster. “Perhaps the Oracle—”
The Grandmaster flicked his hand, dismissing the thought before Carl could complete it. “The Oracle is of no further service in this matter. Besides, when we are not making quota, we cannot afford to be so generous with our supply.”
Carl swallowed his retort. Generous was hardly a word he would use to describe the Grandmaster or the other high-ranking members of the brotherhood. “Will I have any magic to assist me?”
“Minimal. We have several other leads, but until a few more working vessels are secured, magic will be strictly rationed.”
He gritted his teeth. “At least a shield spell, and possibly a locator spell?” He could do the rest of the dirty work himself, though it would get harder as the days passed and his age weighed on him more. But he would get through—he always did.
After a long stare that had the hair on his forearms standing on end, the Grandmaster slowly slid open a drawer in his desk and entered a code into a hidden keypad. A secret compartment released from the wall behind him. He drifted from his chair with the ease of a young man who felt no aches or pains in doing so, and hatred gnawed a burning hole in Carl’s gut as the Grandmaster removed one of the many jewelry cases from his safe. He set the case on the desk and opened it. Inside the expensive black leather was a blood-red velvet display lovingly hugging at least two dozen rings of various sizes. They all hummed with magic, and what remained from Carl’s last feeding, infused in his very cells, was starving for it.
He gripped the chair arms and pretended the bounty before him had no effect.
The Grandmaster carefully selected three rings and set them on the desk before him: a hematite shield spell, a calcite locator spell, and a garnet revitalizing spell.
Carl made no move to take them, knowing that these were coming from the Grandmaster’s personal stock and must come at a greater cost than usual. “You have been one of my most effective agents. I trust that you will not let me down. Should you return with the vessel, you will be rewarded handsomely.” He nodded at the rings, and only then did Carl lean forward and pick them up one at a time and place them in his pocket.
He stood, bowed to the Grandmaster, and turned his back to walk out the front entrance.
“Carl.”
He paused with his hand on the door. “I don’t think I need to tell you what will happen if you return without her. You know the consequences for those who fail me. It would probably be better not to come back at all.”
He clenched and unclenched his jaw and opened the door. “Yes, sir. I understand.”
It was better to die relatively quickly from the effects of the elixir poisoning his blood than to return and have every last ounce of magic sucked from his soul a drop at a time.