The man before her was short and thin, his remaining gray hair combed over. He wore a dark suit with a shirt and tie, and a smile that was perhaps supposed to be welcoming, but didn’t reach his impassive brown eyes. His features were narrow and pinched, giving him the appearance of an undertaker or a tax auditor.
Darian released Eve’s hood, and she pulled it off the moment he was done. He collected both hoods and took a few paces back, drawing himself out of the conversation yet still present in the room. Having him behind her was unsettling.
“Better?” the thin man asked.
“Yes,” Cally said flatly. If he expected thanks, he’d be waiting a while.
“Excellent,” he said, the same smile returning, as thin as the rest of him. “I apologize for the necessity, but for obvious reasons we must keep our location a secret.”
“You’re within an hour’s drive of Stewart International Airport in a house worth what, ten million? Twenty? That can’t leave many options.”
“Around here, more than you might think, Miss Davis. I do take your point, however some degree of trust is necessary. To that end, introductions?” He inclined his head. “My name is Mr. Alexander, and I have the honor of leading theAeterna Vigilantiain North America. I already know who you are, Miss Davis, but your friend?”
“Eve,” Eve said bluntly, and crossed her arms.
“How nice to meet you,” he said without any warmth, then gestured past them. “You’ve met Darian. He’s one of our top operatives, and I’ve assigned him as your escort.”
Cally didn’t turn around. “I came for answers, Mr. Alexander, and I didn’t appreciate being forced into a hood for the last hour. Can we get on with it?”
“Well, quite. Unfortunately, I’m a busy man with many demands on my time, and much though I’d like to, I can’t spare you too long right now. Instead, I’ve asked Darian to give you a tour, and we can talk over dinner this evening. First, however…”
He turned to a small chest sitting on the edge of the desk, flipped the catch and lifted the lid to reveal a large hunk of obsidian, polished and rounded, resting against a red velvet lining. “I had this brought for you. A small test, if you would be so kind?” He lifted it from its box and held it out toward her, and it filled both his hands.
“You want me to make it glow, I presume?” The stone was cool to the touch and heavier than she’d expected.
“We need to be sure, Miss Davis.”
“What does it prove? Wouldn’t you rather I predict the future or turn Darian into a toad?”
Mr. Alexander leaned back against the edge of his desk. “By all means. If you can, go ahead.”
Cally glared at him, feeling like the performing monkey Eve had referenced the evening before. She’d half expected something like this, but every other time something had happened, she’d had the coven with her. Could she do it alone?
Eve watched impassively, arms still folded, letting Cally make her own decision. But there wasn’t much choice—they wouldn’t help until she demonstrated what she could do.
With a sigh, she tried to remember the chant Lily had used yesterday, then closed her eyes and focused on the obsidian, muttering the refrain under her breath. She pushed her purpose into the crystal, willing it to glow, the chant spilling easily from her lips. But there wasn’t the clarity of mind she’d felt when they’d done this as a coven, and she wasn’t sureit had worked.
Cally opened her eyes. The obsidian reflected the light from the windows in its gleaming surface, but there was no hint of a glow from within.
Mr. Alexander turned away. “Disappointing, but not unexpected,” he said, his tone resigned. “Darian, put their hoods back on and show them out.”
“Wait,” Eve said, taking a half-step forward. “She can do it, but she needs… Do you have a pin? A needle or something?”
Mr. Alexander paused, turning back. “A drop of blood, you mean?”
“Yes.” Eve looked to Cally, who gave a noncommittal lift of one shoulder.
“Your knife, please, Darian.”
Darian stepped forward, a tactical knife in his hand. He thumbed the button and a vicious-looking blade snapped out. He flipped and caught it, offering her the hilt.
“Thanks,” Cally said warily, wondering why he needed such a knife. The blade was razor sharp, the edge and point marked where it had been used and sharpened. It wasn’t quite the sterile, plastic-wrapped option Eve usually provided, but her bond with Antoine should make her resistant to infection—according to Noah. She carefully pricked her finger with the tip, and passed Darian back his blade.
Did she need more blood for a lump of obsidian this large? Did that make a difference?
She squeezed her fingertip until it welled red, wiping it across the obsidian. Mr. Alexander watched all the while, his expression neutral.
Cally closed her eyes again, feeling half-foolish, half-hopeful. Nothing had been said, but the implication was clear: this was her last chance. She wanted answers and help with her magic, and the Order was the only real chance of that. Determined, she poured all her hope, all her intent into the obsidian, and repeated Lily’s refrain again.
