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Owen Stannett stood with his proverbial hat in hand, but he’d come with phenomenal information in the form of a hidden colony, perhaps even several hidden colonies, on Mortal Earth that contained refugee Seers. He’d also come with a list of demands.
Fascinating.
Greaves had asked Casimir to attend the meeting for several reasons. The Fourth ascender lounged in his usual position on the black leather couch to Greaves’s left, his legs spread wide. He wore his habitual tight leather pants with everything on display. Caz knew Stannett quite well and Stannett knew everything Caz displayed quite well because Stannett had been a slave to Casimir for a couple of hundred years a few centuries back.
Greaves almost winced. All that mass would have hurt.
The whole situation was so very interesting to Greaves. What twist of fate had brought the men together again in this very room, in Greaves’s Geneva penthouse, his current place of administration? He owned the entire building and in the basement was his Round Table, very Camelot-esque—in a more modern way, of course.
But as he met Stannett’s gaze, he saw nothing of the submissive in this man. Nor was he dominant, an intriguing circumstance all on its own. It made him a conundrum in terms of handling. If he went too hard at Stannett, the man would simply vanish. Not hard enough and he wouldn’t cave.
He glanced at Caz, a mere sliding of his gaze then back, a very subtle signal.
Caz folded instantly to a position right behind Stannett and slid his arm over Stannett’s chest, a very ownership-based move.
A wave of hatred flowed over Stannett’s face. So Stannett hadn’t exactly enjoyed servicing Casimir. But then from everything he’d understood, Caz had a strong sadistic tendency, much stronger than even Greaves’s proclivities.
“Why don’t you just tell the Commander what you want, Stanny? Save us from wasting the night away.” Caz strengthened his hold on Stannett, tightening the arm around his chest.
Stannett’s gaze hardened. He met Greaves’s once more. “I’m not playing these games.” For good measure, he sent a little shock wave flowing through his body that popped Caz right off him.
Casimir looked both surprised and excited. He rounded Stannett to stare at him. He smiled. “That actually hurt. You’ve learned a few tricks.”
But Stannett was playing this smart. He ignored the sexy monkey and, keeping his gaze aimed at Greaves, laid his cards on the table. “I have a number of Third Earth powers, the most significant being my Seer abilities. I can hinder activity in the future streams. Right now, even Marguerite, the second of the obsidian flame triad, cannot follow my path, cannot know what I do.”
“This is power, indeed. Now tell me why you didn’t take your offer to Endelle?”
“She will be angry about the children I spawned in the fortress. She will be … unforgiving.”
At that, Greaves smiled. In this one thing, he could admire Stannett: that he’d attempted in recent years to create a super-race of Seers out at the Superstition Fortress. “I suppose she wouldn’t appreciate the long-range vision of your plan.”
Stannett smoothed the wave alongside his head and his lips actually smirked. “No, she would not.”
For half a second Greaves approved. He understood the full scope of Stannett’s quandary. “So, what you’re asking in exchange for your services, and once the war has been decided, is a palace, a fortune, and a permanent waiver from all government agencies. In addition, you want the Seer, Marguerite, sequestered in your fortress.”
“Yes.”
“And what of me?” Greaves asked. “Will I be allowed to visit?”
Stannett bowed. “Of course … master.” Just the right emphasis on that last word.
And there it was, the subservience he sought. “And will you be willing to partake of dying blood and the accompanying antidote? I require this of all my servants.”
“No.” Stannett’s chin dipped. “I cannot agree to this since there is some evidence that dying blood by its nature affects a Seer’s ability in the future streams.”
The response was reasonable. Still, Greaves didn’t like that he wouldn’t have some external command of the man once the agreement was struck.
He tapped his fingers together once more. “I will agree to your requests on one condition.”
“Anything, master.”
His take on Stannett was that the man would do whatever he needed to survive, including betray Greaves. However, if Stannett could actually fulfill his requirement within the future streams, then he would have earned Greaves’s support.
He waved Casimir back to his couch. Caz folded in the blink of an eye.
To Stannett, he said, “I’d like to test your abilities. We have a little situation that needs tending to. Thorne’s sister, Grace, appears to have some sort of emerging power of an inexplicable nature. Although I was unable to witness her manifestation in Moscow Two, Caz tells me that she somehow appeared beside General Leto before Casimir could initiate the prearranged hand-blast that would render him unconscious.
“I have recently learned the Leto has engaged in subversive activities against me, and he must be eliminated. Because Grace was instrumental in saving him, I want her taken care of as well. You will work with Casimir to get the job done. Use your control of the future streams to organize your strategy. And I want this accomplished before the military review.”
Though Stannett’s expression hardened, and he still refused to glance at Caz, he bowed once more. “Yes, master.”
Greaves repressed a smile. He had several pleasures in his position and in his life, but one of the most satisfying was the pairing of one unhappy force with one dominating force to get a job done. The resulting friction always satisfied some dark place in Greaves’s soul.
But as he glanced from one to the other, he finally did allow himself to smile—though not in amusement. Stannett had Third Earth abilities and Casimir was a Fourth ascender. Together they had as much power as Greaves. If they were smart and got this job done, well, his future was made.
Especially since what Grace had accomplished made it a strong possibility that she was the third member of the obsidian flame triad. Of all the tasks before him, making certain that these members did not combine their power was one of his most pressing concerns.
* * *
“You have to get him out of here,” Sister Quena cried, her sharp cheekbones flaming. “He is a traitor and a man. Everything about his presence here is offensive in the extreme.”
