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"Don't give me an excuse, brat. I've no love for your sire these days."
I moved between them and lifted my chin, meeting Balaam's gaze.
"This has nothing to do with you," I said. "I appreciate the interest, but I can handle it."
"You shouldn't need to, my child. I'll do it for you." He smiled. "Happily."
"No--" I said, but he was already bearing down on Thomas.
Bodyguards leaped around the table. Balaam fluttered his fingers and the men's eyes . . . popped. Just popped, blood streaming down their faces as they screamed. Balaam snapped his fingers and they stopped screaming. They were still alive, still writhing on the floor, mouths still open, but they made no sound.
"Do you know me, sorcerer?" Balaam said to Thomas.
"I--"
"I sent a messenger to spare us both this visit. You ignored him."
"I--"
"Say my name, sorcerer."
Thomas sat there. An old man. Such an old man, his rheumy blue eyes watery, his face little more than a death mask, skin tight over bone. No one went to him. No one could. Beside me, Sean kept rocking forward, but now it was my hand on his arm. A binding spell waited on my lips. I didn't need it. He knew there was nothing anyone could do.
Thomas pulled himself up. He blinked and gained back a decade of his lost years, remembering who he was. His voice was steady when he said, "You are Lord Balaam, and I apologize for the misunderstanding. I meant no disrespect--"
"But disrespect me you did."
"Not intentionally, sir. This hearing is at an end. The girl is free to go. I was saying that when you arrived--"
"It is too late. You mistreated my granddaughter. You mistreated my daughter. You have mistreated me. There is no apology that can be made."
He lifted his fingers. Thomas's eyes bulged and I screamed, "No!" But Balaam didn't blind Thomas. The old man's eyes simply bulged in pain and shock. He wavered there a moment and I thought, Good, that's it, just a warning. Then he fell forward, clutching his chest.
Sean ran to our grandfather. I tried to stop him, but he caught me off-guard. My binding spell failed. I raced after him, Adam at my heels.
Thomas Nast had dropped to his knees. Balaam grabbed the table between them and threw it, hitting several of the lawyers before they could get out of the way.
The only person left near Thomas was Josef. And he just stood there. In shock, maybe. In cowardice, probably. Only Sean ran to his grandfather, shouting for him over the commotion as everyone headed for the exits, the thunder of feet accompanied by Sierra's laughter as she waltzed through the stampede, fingers tapping left and right, freezing as they went, her victims yelping in shock, then spinning out of the way before continuing to the doors.
Balaam stood in front of Thomas, now on his knees, one hand on the floor to brace himself, the other over his heart as he panted, eyes rolling.
Balaam put out his hand.
"No!" I screamed, Sean's cry joining mine.
Thomas's head shot back. His torso shot forward. His shirt split. His chest cracked open, ribs popping. His heart ripped free and sailed into Balaam's hand.
Sean was at his grandfather's side now, dropping to his knees and grabbing him as the old man's eyes closed. I skidded to a stop behind Balaam, who stood there, holding Thomas's heart. He looked down at it. He smiled. Then he crushed it, threw it aside and turned. He stopped short, seeing me there.
"You bastard," I said. "You sick bastard."
His brows arched. "I did it for you, my child."
"No, you did not. This isn't about me. None of this is about me. You used me. You used this."
He reached out and touched my chin, his fingers hot and slick with Thomas's blood.
"You are angry now, but you will reap the benefits, my child. You've seen what I can do. Reconsider my offer." His lips curled in a smile that wasn't a smile at all. "Think on this and reconsider my offer."
