“Do any copies remain?” Cassandra whispered.
“Only one that I know of.” Reena’s eyes flicked towards Tristan again. “It’s locked in a chamber beneath the palace in Delos. Property of the Imperial family.”
Realization barreled through Tristan, chilling his blood more effectively than the basement’s cool, damp air. “I’ve seen it. My brother showed it to me. It’s how we learned about Turning, before I…” He held Reena’s gaze, didn’t dare look at Cass. Or finish his thought.
Cassandra pressed forward, her voice calm and steady. If she was affected by Tristan’s confession, she wasn’t letting it show. “And you’re sure it’s still there? It certainly appears as if the Teles Chrysos are stirring again—or at least a group that’s using their symbol. Is there a chance that they’ve somehow gotten their hands on that copy?”
“I suppose it’s possible,” Reena answered. “But unlikely. The Imperial palace is the most heavily guarded building on the planet. I can’t imagine anyone breaching it.”
“Maybe there’s another copy in existence,” Tristan offered.
Cassandra finally turned to him, her beautiful face half shrouded in shadows in the dim basement light. Her guarded expression sliced at his heart. “Or some of the original members of the Teles Chrysos are involved in this new incarnation.” She turned back to Reena. “Don’t suppose you remember any of them, do you?”
Reena’s brows dipped. “I never met any of the group members. I only know what my parents shared with me. Though before they were disbanded, there were rumblings of a meeting with Trophonios.”
“Trophonios?” Tristan asked. “The inventor of Delirium? Why would they have wanted to meet with him?”
“The Teles Chrysos leadership at the time hoped to persuade him to join the cause, felt he might be amenable to it since he’d invented the elixir to save the humans from extinction. He’s the most legendary scientific mind Ethyrios has ever known; they hoped to take advantage of his skills.”
Tristan snorted. “Don’t know why they’d think a snow leopard bi-form would join their group. They’re not particularly prone tocommunity.”
Reena raised a shoulder. “Like I said, they were just rumors at the time. I’m not sure they ever even gathered the courage to approach him.”
Cassandra blew out a long breath, then placed a hand on Reena’s shoulder. “Thank you for telling us this, Reena. What you’ve shared stays between the three of us.” She raised an eyebrow at Tristan.
“Yes, absolutely,” he reassured the pale Beastrunner. He knew how she felt, reopening old wounds, dredging up a painful past. She looked as drained as he had felt the other night.
Reena pushed up off the liquor barrel. “I need to get back upstairs to close down the bar.” She aimed a careful look at Cass. “You ready to tell him about theothersurprise?”
Tristan stiffened, straightening his shoulders. “What other surprise?”
He’d barely gotten the words out before metal clanked behind him and he turned to see the sewer grate in the middle of floor sliding open.
His eyebrows flew to his forehead as Mother Superior climbed out of the hole, her platinum hair in disarray and splattered with mud.
Then he nearly leapt out of his skin as a group of thirty or so humans piled into the tiny basement, half of them clearly obliviates with their glazed eyes and slack features.
Hella climbed out of the hole at the end of the line, spreading her blood-red wings wide.
Cassandra burbled a nervous laugh.
“Surprise?”
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
What’s going on, Cass?” Tristan asked. “What is this?”
Reena strode to the stairs, calling back over her shoulder, “I’ll leave you to it.”
Cassandra aimed a careful glance at Mother Superior—Borea, Tristan remembered Cassandra had called her—who offered a subtle nod before gathering the obliviated humans and what Tristan assumed were their family members.
Cassandra took his hand, skyrocketing his pulse, and pulled him into a dark corner.
“Can you, uh, provide us with some privacy?” she asked, rocketing his pulse further.
He turned his back towards the room and spread his wings around them.
“Please don’t freak out,” she said.
