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“Moran suggests we hold steady.” He caught himself twisting an earring in a nervous habit and lowered his arm. “She’s leveraging her status as primipilus to fold any dissenters they encounter into smaller groups headed by centurions.”
“Are these, by any chance, the pro-Asa faction Carver informed us of?”
“Yes.” His expression pinched. “That’s why Moran can direct their efforts. They’re aware of who she is to me. They believe she’s creating chaos to unseat Calixta, and they’re willing to follow her orders.”
“The harder I try to save everyone, the more people suffer for it.”
There must be a line, right? One I wouldn’t be willing to cross for family. But I had yet to hit that limit.
I wasn’t a good person. I never claimed to be. But I was better than I had been.
Maybe accepting that was as enlightened as I got. That and embracing the fault for the choices I made.
“The threat Luca poses goes far beyond Black Hat collateral. Her focus is on the larger paranormal community, and our response must also be on that scale.” He came to me, gathering me against his chest. “The director, in addition to his value as a hostage, is a danger to anyone who crosses him. With Luca determined to flush him out of hiding, the body count will only climb higher if we don’t stop them.”
The director would have to pick the one woman with unlimited access to an incurable poison to spurn.
“Right now,” Asa kept going, “Clay is our best chance at finding the director. There’s no harm in pursuing a personal agenda when one path accomplishes two goals. If that leads us to Luca, or Luca to us, even better.”
“What you didn’t say was that if I had confessed to Calixta that I lost the director, if I had been willing to sacrifice Aedan too, I could have spared lives in Hael.” I withdrew from the comfort I didn’t deserve. “No matter how you spin it, I’m being selfish. People will die for my cousin, if they haven’t already.”
Is he worth it?
To me?
Yes.
Always.
But could I live with myself if I toppled the very monarchy meant to protect him during his tenure as prince? I had to cement Calixta’s rule. She was the one I had leverage against. But it would cost lives to buy me time to find the director if Moran lost control even for a second, which was too much blame to place at her feet. She was from Hael. These were her people. And I was using them to advance my own agenda.
At the end of the day, I had enough black witch left in me to set fire to the world and watch it burn if it meant keeping my family safe. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t good. It wasn’t fair. But it was true.
A knock on the door gave us a moment of warning before Dad strolled into our room.
“Clay is downtown.” He clutched his crystal in his palm. “Near Hainsworth Distillery.”
“We did an experiment.” Colby, I noticed, sat on his shoulder. “Turns out Saint can dowse over atablet.”
Part of me noted that she had settled on calling him Saint, and that it seemed to please him.
“That’s impressive,” I admitted, forcing my mind back on task, “and also something I wish we had figured out sooner.”
“Your mother has a strong affinity for dowsing.” Dad maintained a rigid posture, as if he was afraid one wrong move would send Colby fluttering away from him. “That could be the reason why it’s effective. Now our powers are linked by the familiar bond, and she could be boosting my proficiency in that area.”
“I’ll have to try it sometime.” I did my best not to show how frustrated I was by my own lack of ability, but I felt like I was working this case with one hand tied behind my back. This experience had made it clear to me how often I used brute magical force to solve my problems. Maybe I should work on that. Using my brain instead of my magical brawn. “Are Marita and Derry out there?”
“They’ll return soon.” He glanced over his shoulder as Mom entered the room. “They went to get food.”
“No surprise there.” I soaked up the sight of my parents crowding Colby. “Those two could eat the state of Texas out of beef. Or pork. Or chicken. Or really anything digestible.”
Probably a few things that weren’t too.
“Meg ate her burgers so rare, I swear they still mooed.” Mom shuddered. “I prefer my cow well done.”
“Sometimes Clay makes me eat rare at fancy restaurants so I don’t embarrass him in front of the chef.”
“I’ve never understood that.” Mom clucked her tongue. “Don’t they know you’ll enjoy what you’re eating more if it’s done to your satisfaction?”
