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“Enough.” The Princept raised his hand to silence them both. “The Order currently stands at a great precipice,” he said. “However, now that we have one of the lost artifacts back in our possession, our position is not quite so dire as it once was.”
“Our situation is still tenuous,” Morgan argued. “The Conclave at the end of the year was supposed to demonstrate our strengths—to the other Brotherhoods, to the entire country. The Brink was to be reconsecrated. Expanded. Instead, we’ve found ourselves far behind in our preparations. We may have retrieved the ring, but the rest of our most important artifacts remain missing. Khafre Hall still lies in ashes.”
“Your new headquarters will make everyone forget that Khafre Hall ever burned,” the third man said, breaking his silence. He had the kind of satisfied confidence that made Jack’s teeth hurt.
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” Jack said dully. “You are?”
“Harry Black.” The man didn’t bother to extend his hand.
Jack glanced at Morgan, wondering if he was supposed to know who this was. Wondering, suddenly, why this stranger was even here.
“Black is president of the Fuller Company,” the Princept explained. “He’s one of our newer initiates.”
“I was at the gala, and I was impressed with what I saw,” Black said, eyeing Jack. “Very impressed.”
“He’s offered the Order the top floors of his company’s newest building for our headquarters,” the Princept said, his mustache twitching.
“Which building is that?” Jack asked, though he had a feeling he already knew.
“The skyscraper being built on Fifth Avenue, across from Madison Square Park,” Black said.
“The one that people have been taking bets on to see how far the debris will fall when it topples?” Jack said, incredulous. “What have the papers taken to calling it? The Flatiron?”
Black glared at him. “Only uneducated fools believe that the structure won’t stand for an eternity. Steel construction is the future. With it, the city can grow to untold heights. The new building will be one of the tallest in the city when it’s complete in a few weeks. Where better to house the Order? ‘As above, so below,’ after all.”
“Certainly this won’t be permanent. Khafre Hall will be rebuilt,” Jack said. How could it not be? The old structure had been constructed on a site selected for its location over the confluence of two subterranean rivers. It was believed to be a powerful locus for elemental energy, water and earth coming together as they did. “The location alone—”
Morgan closed a ledger that had been open on his desk, closing the topic of conversation as well. “We didn’t call you here today to hear your opinions. The matter has already been decided.”
“Perhaps the location of Khafre Hall was important in the past,” the Princept explained, “but the new headquarters has certain advantages that Khafre Hall does not.” He glanced at Black.
“The building itself has been designed with principles of the occult arts in mind: the sacred triangle, the alignment of its sides with the sigil in the park and with the path of the stars.” Black was clearly proud of this particular fact. “Even the height of the building will serve as a testament to the Order’s power. Khafre Hall was the past—and a glorious past it was—but the new headquarters will serve the Order long into the future.”
“We’ll move into the building in a matter of weeks,” the Princept explained. “During that time, the artifact will be installed in the new Mysterium, along with the rest of what was left from Khafre Hall. The building will be dedicated and warded with protections on the city’s solstice. Which is why we asked you here today.”
“This is a terrible idea,” Morgan muttered.
“The boy has answered our questions,” the Princept said, turning to Morgan. “I’m more than satisfied, and you know we could use his talent.”
“I’d be happy to serve you and the Order in any way I can,” Jack said, ignoring his uncle, who had clearly been overruled. He tried to hide his amusement at the situation, forced himself to appear humble and gracious.
“For now, the question of your membership to the Order will be set aside,” the Princept said. “As I imagine you are aware, we had planned to use occasion of the Conclave to bolster the power of the Brink, as we must every century to maintain its power. But this centennial was to be different. This year, we were to do more than simply reconsecrate. We had planned to use the occasion of the Conclave to build on the work of those who came before us.”
“The rumors were true, then?” Jack asked, knowing already that they were. It was no secret that the Inner Circle believed that the Brink could be made stronger, wider, but he hadn’t known for sure that they’d managed it. “You found a way to expand the Brink?”
The High Princept nodded, a satisfied glimmer in his eyes. “Before the events of Khafre Hall, we’d already managed to bolster the power of the artifacts in preparation. With all five stones, we could have expanded the Brink’s power and pushed out its reach. Ellis Island and the maggots who evade our inspectors there would no longer have been a problem. But now, with only one artifact in our possession, we must do what we can simply to preserve the Brink. Everything depends upon it.”
“Can you perform the reconsecration ritual with a single stone?” Jack wondered.
“Thanks to the work we did before they were stolen, we believe we can,” the Princept said. “But you can see why it is more essential than ever to protect that artifact at all costs. After your display at the gala, we believe you can be of help. It is essential that our new headquarters is impervious to any attack. If you’re able to bring your considerable talents to aid us in the coming weeks, I believe we can put this whole unfortunate question of loyalty to rest. In fact, if all goes well, there will be a place for you in the Inner Circle.”
“But if you screw this up,” his uncle said, glaring. “If you think to betray our trust again—”
“You’ll find no fault in my commitment to our cause,” Jack told them with a small bow. “I will do all I can to ensure the safety of the artifact and our new headquarters.”
They were the right words. The Princept’s eyes glimmered with satisfaction.
By the time the three old goats finally dismissed him, the morphine had all but worn off. Jack could feel the ache building behind his eyes again, but he barely noticed. When he’d entered his uncle’s mansion, he’d worried he might never find the ring, but he’d left with the Order’s hopes—perhaps its very future—sitting in the palm of his hand. And if all went well, soon the artifact would be his.
