Page 2 of Serpent and Shadow

Malefic didn’t acknowledge the blood directly.

He didn’t need to.

The room had fallen silent as he felt their attention riveted to his hands.

His silver eyes rose, gauging those reactions with outward indifference, but he didn’t miss any nuance of their expressions, magical or otherwise.

He measured his faithful, his mind going from coldly angry, a remnant of the interview he’d just left with his only child, to silent and weighing.

He had already decided what needed to happen next.

“I’m afraid I must confer with only a few of you at this time,” he said, his voice ringing across the high ceilings, just as they’d been designed. The silence of the crowd meant that every person in there heard, as if he stood near them and spoke only to them.

“Yoric Orrin,” he said, his voice vibrating with magic. “Sergius and Sirena Calvarias.” He made his voice the slightest bit less commanding. “And, if they are so moved, I would like to invite Grandfather Valefor, Madame Morticia, and Ancestor Raughloch to attend, as well.”

As he spoke those last three names, he bowed before two wizards and a sorceress, all three of whom wore physical bodies that were almost humorously young.

A handful of murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Malefic could not help but see pique on a few faces for being excluded, including several who would normally attend meetings of his inner circle. He also saw several measure him, and his crippled arm, resentment faint but visible in their auras.

Malefic made a mental note of each one.

“For those not named,” Malefic continued. “Kindly find refreshment in the dining hall behind me. We will rejoin you shortly, once we have concluded our business.”

The pause that time was brief but pregnant.

Then everyone not named on his very short list began shuffling and then walking towards one of the massive sets of wooden doors on either side of the stone fireplace.

Malefic’s eyes returned to those Magicals who didn’t move.

It was odd to think that the blond-haired mage with the dark red eyes and cherubic face was the resurrected soul of his great-grandfather, Valefor Bones.

It was almost as strange to remember that the muscular mage standing a few feet away was Raughloch Bones, an even older ancestor.

In personality, the two blood relatives could not be more different. While Valefor had been cool, brilliant, and surgical, Raughloch had been feared both for his magic and his unpredictable rages, not to mention his taste for conquering neighboring estates to expand his own. It was because of Raughloch that the Bones family still owned most of Exmoor, and much of the land to the south and west.

After laying claim to as much of England as the Crown would tolerate, Raughloch left on excursions for the New World. From there, he brought back a new wife, new children, and spoils from entire continents. He’d always been shrewd enough to set aside a sufficiently large portion for the King to remain in favor.

Now Raughloch appeared scarcely twenty.

The eyes that burned from that face did not fit the youth of the body around it, despite a monstrous frame that looked like it could lift a horse with one hand.

His blond, red, and black-streaked hair looked scraggly already, despite how pristinely it had been primped by its previous owner. A faint sneer lived on his lips below silver eyes which glowed faintly with his magic.

It was a curious quirk of the Resurrection that the eye color of the body changed upon receiving a new owner. This vessel had come with violet eyes initially, but within weeks they slowly morphed to silver, like Raughloch’s had been before he died.

As was the case for most bodies they used, the boy came from a family of minor nobility, a royal by birth, but one either too far down on the succession line to matter, or the offspring of a patriarch insufficiently loyal to the cause.

Strangemore fell into the disloyal camp.

The family patriarch hadn’t suffered from an ideological conflict, per se, but more an excess of greed. The Strangemore family accumulated the majority of its wealth in the modern era, not via inheritance, but in shipping. Strangemore had not wished to alienate either the Crown or their government contractors by joining the cause.

Malefic ordered Orrin to take the quisling’s son, and luckily, the heir fit their needs in all other respects.

Healthy. Good magical structure. The right age. The right breeding.

He’d been a Skyhunt player of some note, but otherwise inconsequential both socially and in school. He’d also been disgraced via some scandal, and expelled from Malcroix Bones, which was somewhat less desirable in the short term, but would matter not in Raughloch’s case, as Malefic would not have utilized his ancestor for that assignment, regardless.