A mirror of her daughter, Taega crossed her arms. “I wasn’t buying from them, you foolish girl. I’ve been going undercover.”
Loren stiffened. “Your name and signature are on the blueprints for the Arcanum Well,” she said. “Someone we trust found them in the restricted files.”
Taega gave her a hard smile. “We live in a world of magic, Loren. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out how to lift a signature. Not where Jonathon Kyle is involved.” Jonathon Kyle: CEO of Lucent Enterprises himself.
Darien’s eyes were full black; he was reading Taega’s aura, Loren realized. Checking to see if there was any indication in its glow that she was lying. But—Taega was likely disguising her aura with the Nacht Essentia they’d seen her purchasing on Route 378.
“If you’ve been going undercover,” Darien said, “then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind telling us who’s really behind the chemical shipments and the recreation of the Arcanum Well.”
“I wish I could,” Taega said. “But whoever is responsible is very careful about hiding and letting their minions do their work for them. The only people we’ve managed to catch are the lesser of several evils. We’d hoped that by arranging to pick up illegal potions and chemicals from the traffickers, it would confirm the regular pickup spots for the clients, and we’d be able to watch for the next time an unusually large deal was made—for therealoffenders.”
Darien said, “You’re working with the Magical Protections Unit?”
“I don’t see why you’re surprised,” Taega crooned. “The Fleet holds a firm place in the law enforcement, Darien Cassel.” Her green eyes shifted to Loren, the silver ring around the pupils reflecting the flames crackling in the fireplace. “I’m sure by now you’ve figured out who your father was. If you’d cared to trust me with everything that’s been going on, I could’ve told you that weeks ago. Back when Darien Cassel first took you under his wing.”
Loren bristled. “What do you know of my father?” The fact that she’d known this whole time that she’d been under Darien’s protection did not escape her either.
“Everything,” Taega said. “Roark was your father’s best friend for years, which is why Erasmus trusted him to take care of his only child.” Her eyes settled briefly on Dallas. “In those days, Roark—your father—was called by a different name: Elix Danik.”
Loren wasn’t breathing.
“The two were as mortal as can be,” Taega went on. “And back then, mortals were treated with far more disdain than they are today. They had a hell of a time making friends; they were bullied all through their school years, and when they got to university, they formed their own club. In the beginning, it didn’t have a name—they had only wanted to make friends. But when Erasmus made an arrangement with a Nameless creature for access to the prima materia, and created the Arcanum Well, they began calling themselves the Phoenix Head Society.”
No one moved as the story of Erasmus Sophronia’s past floated through the room, punctuated only by the spitting of the coals in the hearth.
Taega continued, eyes now on Loren, “I was in love with Erasmus. Roark was my second choice, which is why I’ve found it so hard to look at you. You only remind me of the woman your father chose over me.” She gave a cold, bloodless smile. “That woman was infertile because of illness. But after hundreds of years spent alone, she and Erasmus had become lonely; they wanted a child so badly that Erasmus created you with the Arcanum Well. One last blessing—and they swore to never use the Well again.”
Dallas barked,“What?”
The room tipped and lurched as Loren’s whole body went numb. She had to grab onto the edge of the desk to keep from toppling to the floor.
Was this real?
Wassheeven real?
She wasnothing. She had been created fromnothing.
Darien’s voice was like the crack of a whip. “He created life from amachine?”
“He used a piece of his own aura,” Taega replied. “Drawing it out of himself and submerging it in the Arcanum Well gave it a life of its own, and a child was born. The first child in the world who did not come into being via natural birth.”
Loren sank to the carpet, her medical tattoo red as the firelight; as Taega’s hair.
“That’s not the only thing he created,” Taega went on. Her words became distant as Loren’s eardrums vibrated. She blinked fog away, forcing herself to stay awake—to pay attention. But her body wasn’t her own, and she swore her heart had stopped beating. “The procedures not only gave them immortality, but they enhanced their senses and healed whatever ailments they might’ve suffered from before. Their eyesight became clearer than 20/10, they could hear whispers that took place behind closed doors, and they could run faster than vampires could fly. Not only that, but they were gifted with the rare ability to see a person’s aura—a gift that in the years to follow became known as theSight.”
It was Darien’s turn to look like he was going to fall over. His fingers went to the edge of the desk, gripping the wood so hard his knuckles were showing white through his skin.
“Have you drawn the conclusion yet, Cassel?” Taega said with another of those knowing smiles. “He createdyou,too.” Those upturned eyes flicked to where Max stood beside Dallas, face ashen and jaw slack. “And you, Reacher. The hellsehers exist solely because of the Arcanum Well. Without it, you never would’ve been born. Everything that you are, everything special about you, came from anexperiment.”
“How?” Darien barked. “How is that possible? He…he was…he washuman.”
“Through blood magic, anything can be possible,” Taega said simply. “But it comes with a cost—a sacrifice. And it was blood magic that made the experiments of the Arcanum Well a success—that made humans immortal and healed a person of any disease. Not only that, but the Well could regenerate limbs—could heal a person from paralysation. It was a miracle worker—a wishing fountain of sorts. And the cost to Make a person into something Other was their old life—their mortal body died and became something new. Becamehellsehers.”
Maximus said, “Wouldn’t that just kill them?”
“Not if the aura was strong enough to hold on. It had to survive in the flames of the Arcanum Well while the body—the vessel—burned to nothing.” That explained the name of the society: the Phoenix Head. A symbol of regeneration—of rebirth. “If the aura held on, and didn’t fade into the Afterlife, it would be reborn and healed from everything.”
“Everyone who’s looking for Loren…,” Darien began, every word taut. “We figured it was because they believe she can locate the real Well—the original one, so their experiments will no longer fail. Is this true?”
