AllFreeNovel
Share Us
trouble, maybe even in danger, for that comment, considering the tension in the room. And the unspoken thought on everyone’s minds: if such a thing could happen to Louis-Cesare, the famed dueling champion of the European Senate, it could happen to them.
And that . . . wasn’t likely to go down well.
Vamps, especially old ones, got out of the habit of fear. Like Adra, they’d been so strong for so long that they began to think themselves impregnable. Untouchable. Over time, they forgot the breath-stealing, spine-tingling, horror-inducing fear that the rest of us weaker creatures have to live with on a daily basis.
Or, at least, that I had lately.
But they didn’t. The apex predator wasn’t used to being hunted, or to feeling that sense of dread. And when he was suddenly reminded, when a wave of that long-forgotten panic slammed into place, widening the eyes, clenching the hands, making the neck jerk with the desire to stare in all directions at once . . .
Well, most people wouldn’t have taken that moment to make a joke.
Most people, but not Jonas.
Because he had a secret weapon, and it was a good one. When I’d first met him, I hadn’t been sure if he was crazy, senile, or just really, really weird. But he’d gone around saying outrageous things like “let’s have a coup” when talking about overthrowing the Silver Circle’s formidable old leadership and installing himself as the new Lord Protector.
Even stranger, it had actually worked.
Because Jonas wasn’t crazy. Or the doddering, forgetful old man that he played with the consummate ease of a Shakespearean actor whenever he thought it would help. He was sharp as a whip and one of the most powerful mages alive, not to mention the most cunning.
But I swear to God, watching him now, even I half believed the act.
And then he kept talking, I guess giving everyone a moment to calm down.
“For another, it can be adulterated. Magic, that is. The excess energy that some of our people sell—because they must, you know, or it builds up in their systems and can cause all sorts of trouble—is often lumped together by the purchasing agent, and can even be combined with the wild magic of the earth, the kind collected by regular old talismans or recycled from charms.”
“Yes, thank you, Jonas,” Mircea said.
“That is a perfectly acceptable practice, of course,” Jonas added. “Since the magic in question is meant to be used for making wards and such, not for ingesting. But when these shops are raided, and the bulk magic is ingested, by the junkies that make up the rank and file of our dark counterpart, it can have an . . . erm . . . deleterious effect.”
“Thank you, Lord Protector—”
“Oh, no trouble, no trouble at all,” Jonas said, beaming at him, his anemone hair wafting about in the absence of any kind of breeze. “The result, of course, after centuries of taking who knows what kind of magic into his body, is that Jonathan is quite, quite mad. And now, it seems, he has devoted himself to helping our opponents, no doubt in return for a promise of all the magic he can ever use.”
Mircea didn’t interrupt him this time; I think he’d given up.
“From his perspective,” Jonas added, “he is being offered virtual immortality. From ours . . . well, magic or no, the human body has its limits. Sooner or later, he will die, but in his madness, it is doubtful that he sees that. Meanwhile, his hunger grows every day, making him incredibly dangerous.”
He looked around at us, over the thick glasses that he used as part of his act, and the blue eyes were suddenly sober. “Nine hundred years is a long time. One can absorb a great deal of knowledge in nine hundred years. And he has put it all in the hands of our enemies. He must be stopped.”
Jonas finally sat back down.
“Yes, but is this really something we need to talk about right now?” a Mayan-looking woman asked from the middle of what looked like an explosion of feathers. “However old he may be, he’s just a man—”
“A man who was behind the unfortunate events in Hong Kong last week,” Mircea interrupted, causing another murmur to go around the table. “We have a positive ID, provided by the Lord Protector from one of his trusted agents, who was on the scene.”
Bet I know which one, I thought grimly.
“The events also bore the hallmarks of Jonathan’s MO,” Mircea continued. “As I said previously, his acute sensitivity to magic has made him a sort of divining rod for magical oddities. In this case, he discovered a fey flower, known as Dragon’s Claw, that, under certain conditions, can cause the attributes of one item or creature to manifest in another—”
“Meaning what?” Ismitta demanded impatiently.
“Meaning these.” Mircea opened a fist, and a bunch of little metal pieces hit the tabletop with a clatter.
“And those are?”
“Spent bullets—slugs, as they’re called. They were extracted from the corpses of a number of dead vampires after the Battle for Hong Kong. Dragon’s Claw had been used to give the lead in the bullets the attributes of wood—”
“What?”
