her mind. House pride was a bitch sometimes. But there was no way he was taking her car and becoming either her driver or her passenger on this escapade. He could not allow himself to be put into a secondary position, where he could be bossed or worse, overlooked. Both situations were a short step to an inconvenient witness. And witnesses were often disposed of after dealing with sensitive mage matters. Pride had nothing on basic survival among magekind.
Cari finally settled herself in the passenger seat. She didn’t seem impressed that he’d restored the interior to its original chrome, leather and walnut, but then she was used to nice things.
He waited for her to put her seatbelt on. Leaned over to make absolutely sure she didn’t require anything else. “If you’re ready?”
Cari smiled, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
It was the kind of smile a wise man might do well to avoid, but he wasn’t feeling wise. A strange and warm sensation had settled into his bad mood. Provoking Cari Dolan was just the thing to help him get through the next five minutes, maybe hour, without turning his car in the opposite direction and spying to see how Riordan and Fletcher fared. Riordan didn’t know what brilliantly idiotic schemes Fletcher could come up with when left to his own devices. And with Bran as an accomplice . . .
“What does the Council know?” Cari’s voice was business direct. She’d learned at Caspar Dolan’s knee. More bothersome was the concentration of Shadow he could sense humming within her. He’d felt something like it around Kaye Brand, when she worked with fire. But never before with Cari. Late bloomer?
Mason settled uneasily back into his seat, shoved the stick in gear, and took the turn of the drive fast enough that the surrounding trees suddenly went luminous, not unlike the forest of Twilight. “In a nutshell: they think it’s one of theirs.”
“You don’t say.” Unimpressed again. “Who do they suspect?”
So sure of herself. Well, why shouldn’t she be? Dolan had stayed strong throughout magekind’s history. Considering the gathered night he sensed inside Cari—when had she come into such power?—he was starting to understand the House’s longevity. Dolan had thus far sidestepped violence and reprisals; knowing whom to trust made a big difference.
And now once again, Dolan was in a position to know. How did they manage that when Mason had to trade blood and favors for his puzzle pieces?
“When Kaye took over the Council from Ferrol Grey, most of the original Seats supported her because she is so adept—spectacular, really—at fire. Made her seem like one of the Old Ones in the mage story books.” Maybe Cari was like that, too. Maybe this new Dark Age bred old power. Mason continued, “Plus Brand is an old House, and she seemed to have contacts everywhere.”
“And then the Council found out about the angel,” Cari supplied.
“Yeah,” Mason said, turning onto I-95. He spat out the name: “Jack Bastian.”
Cari looked over, eyebrow raised. “And?”
Mason shrugged. “He’s a son of a bitch. Older than the hills. I don’t know how much he qualifies as an angel anymore, except that technically he is one.”
Cari snorted. “I’m surprised the Order keeps him, a soul crazy enough to sleep with Shadow.”
Mason found it ironic that he’d unknowingly done the same with Liv, all those years ago. And yes, it had been crazy. Brand and Bastian should take note.
“Most Houses are disgusted, including the ones that still back her. And some feel outright betrayed. But since Brand and Bastian seemed to forestall a strike by the Order against magekind, the Houses have tolerated his presence with her in the Seat.”
“Until lately,” Cari said. “Brand mentioned that she was concerned someone might target her.”
Mason chuckled bitterly. “Kaye Brand isn’t scared of anything. If she seemed vulnerable, she was manipulating you.” He still believed that Kaye was the
Cari finally settled herself in the passenger seat. She didn’t seem impressed that he’d restored the interior to its original chrome, leather and walnut, but then she was used to nice things.
He waited for her to put her seatbelt on. Leaned over to make absolutely sure she didn’t require anything else. “If you’re ready?”
Cari smiled, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
It was the kind of smile a wise man might do well to avoid, but he wasn’t feeling wise. A strange and warm sensation had settled into his bad mood. Provoking Cari Dolan was just the thing to help him get through the next five minutes, maybe hour, without turning his car in the opposite direction and spying to see how Riordan and Fletcher fared. Riordan didn’t know what brilliantly idiotic schemes Fletcher could come up with when left to his own devices. And with Bran as an accomplice . . .
“What does the Council know?” Cari’s voice was business direct. She’d learned at Caspar Dolan’s knee. More bothersome was the concentration of Shadow he could sense humming within her. He’d felt something like it around Kaye Brand, when she worked with fire. But never before with Cari. Late bloomer?
Mason settled uneasily back into his seat, shoved the stick in gear, and took the turn of the drive fast enough that the surrounding trees suddenly went luminous, not unlike the forest of Twilight. “In a nutshell: they think it’s one of theirs.”
“You don’t say.” Unimpressed again. “Who do they suspect?”
So sure of herself. Well, why shouldn’t she be? Dolan had stayed strong throughout magekind’s history. Considering the gathered night he sensed inside Cari—when had she come into such power?—he was starting to understand the House’s longevity. Dolan had thus far sidestepped violence and reprisals; knowing whom to trust made a big difference.
And now once again, Dolan was in a position to know. How did they manage that when Mason had to trade blood and favors for his puzzle pieces?
“When Kaye took over the Council from Ferrol Grey, most of the original Seats supported her because she is so adept—spectacular, really—at fire. Made her seem like one of the Old Ones in the mage story books.” Maybe Cari was like that, too. Maybe this new Dark Age bred old power. Mason continued, “Plus Brand is an old House, and she seemed to have contacts everywhere.”
“And then the Council found out about the angel,” Cari supplied.
“Yeah,” Mason said, turning onto I-95. He spat out the name: “Jack Bastian.”
Cari looked over, eyebrow raised. “And?”
Mason shrugged. “He’s a son of a bitch. Older than the hills. I don’t know how much he qualifies as an angel anymore, except that technically he is one.”
Cari snorted. “I’m surprised the Order keeps him, a soul crazy enough to sleep with Shadow.”
Mason found it ironic that he’d unknowingly done the same with Liv, all those years ago. And yes, it had been crazy. Brand and Bastian should take note.
“Most Houses are disgusted, including the ones that still back her. And some feel outright betrayed. But since Brand and Bastian seemed to forestall a strike by the Order against magekind, the Houses have tolerated his presence with her in the Seat.”
“Until lately,” Cari said. “Brand mentioned that she was concerned someone might target her.”
Mason chuckled bitterly. “Kaye Brand isn’t scared of anything. If she seemed vulnerable, she was manipulating you.” He still believed that Kaye was the
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