Read Online Ripper (The Morphid Chronicles Book 2) by Ingrid Seymour - Free Book Online

gardens below. He clasped his arms behind his back, one hand circling the opposite wrist. Feet shoulder-width apart, he stood at attention and waited, his mind growing calmer as his desire for retribution filled him to the brim.

Chapter 8 - Veridan
    After bringing Ashby back from the almost dead, Veridan followed Danata down the hall, matching her brisk pace. As she went, her gait grew confident and she began to stand up straighter. She had crushed her son once more and, surprisingly, the result was a self-assured Regent.
    When she had thought him lost, Danata had mourned the boy almost like a normal mother. A perplexing thing to witness, since all the child had ever known from her was indifference, manipulation and cruelty. Now he wondered if she’d only suffered because of her sudden inability to hurt him further.
    Regardless, Danata’s returned confidence bode well for him. When she saw to her affairs personally, Morphid heads—or souls, more precisely—tended to roll, souls he was always ready to catch.
    They took one last turn and passed through a set of imposing double doors. As they walked into the expansive, desk-lined hall, silence fell over its occupants. The many office workers rose to their feet and stood at attention as the Regent and new High Sorcerer walked down the long, padded Persian rug that cut the area in two. To the right, floor to ceiling windows allowed a view of the north gardens. Computer monitors shone above every desk, displaying views of ledgers, security cameras, maps, accounting spreadsheets, and the like.
    At the end of the hall, Vitorio stood in front of his desk. “Here are your phone messages, my Regent,” he said, offering her a small stack of notes. Danata took them without a word and crossed the threshold into her private office.
    With the quick flick of a switch, the glass walls and door separating the office from the desk-lined hall tinted in seconds to a translucent gray. She sat behind her massive wooden desk, an antique piece of furniture that went well with the old castle, but stood in sharp contrast to the modern telephone, computer and other office implements meticulously arranged around the room—not that Danata used the equipment much, if at all, rather preferring her employees and underlings to perform such menial tasks..
    “Look at them squirm,” Danata said, looking at her retinue through the smoky glass.
    Veridan peered back through the now one-way glass. “You have not lost your touch.” He sat, unbuttoned his jacket and crossed his legs.
    She smirked. “Let’s hope not,” she paused and straightened her back. “About your next assignment—”
    “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of Bernard and Roanna,” Veridan interrupted. He hated being told what to do, but he hated being told twice even more.
    “Forget about them. I’ll assign that task to someone else.”
    “What then?” Veridan asked.
    “It seems that Ashby has his wits about him, don’t you think?”
    “For the most part.”
    “Whatever remedies you concocted seem to have worked,” the Regent said.
    Remedies. If you only knew.
    She stood and pushed a button on a short cabinet adjacent to her desk. A wooden panel slid out of the way and a crystal decanter surrounded by small glasses rose to the top. She poured two drinks, handed him one and sat back down. “To a job well done,” she said, inclining her glass in his direction.
    Veridan mimicked her and drank the potion in one gulp. It was of his own creation, an invigorating and stimulating brew that never dulled the senses.
    She licked her lips. “Now, to our next order of business.”
    “And what might that be?” Veridan set his glass on the desk.
    “Boris Volkov. I need you to—” The telephone rang, cutting her short. Her top lip curled, showing her aggravation at the interruption. In spite of it, she pressed the speaker button. “What is it, Vitorio?”
    “Regent,” Vitorio said in a voice rendered even more nasal by the tiny