I move forward towards them. I am a janitor.
I am nothing.
Let me go about my business. When I’m within reach of the men, one plants a heavy hand on my chest. The other two lift the barrels of their guns.
Irrelevant.
"The site is closed by order of the Conclave." The man with his hand on my chest grunts, "Go back to work before I report you."
I don't argue. Instead, I take note that the main gates are opening to let out a vehicle.
I duck under the guard's arm, my eyes fixed on the construction entrance. A rush of air behind me gives me notice to feint to the left. The guard’s fist sails over my head.
I am not a fast man, too heavy to run like the centaur, but right now it feels as though my feet have Hermes’ winged sandals.
“Stop. Don’t make me shoot.”
Within seconds, I’m pressing myself against the exiting truck, and then through into the compound. In a flash I take in the scene. Portacabins, vehicles, scaffold, piles of discarded building materials. Is she here?
—Nymph?—
The thought is out at the same moment the world tilts.
The pain comes a second later. I’m falling face first into the mud, blood filling my mouth, and then I know no more.
3
Max bounds up the stairs, Donovan heads towards the ballroom, and Feniks strides towards the admin block.
I pause, allowing myself to think about Theodora for a moment.
She’ll be OK.
The divine essence will give her protection until we find her.
It has to.
What I need to do is track down some WMO or Conclave high-ups. Squeeze them for information.
My phone vibrates.
FATHER: Library. Now.
Seems like my presence here has already been reported.
Figures. Father has eyes everywhere.
I push the cell back into my pocket and concentrate on acting like the perfect new Conclave member, completely in the dark energy’s thrall.
“Sir? Mr. Drakeward?” Some lackey nervously touches my elbow. I bat off his hand. I may be in a crumpled tuxedo, but I don’t need any plebian mauling to make things worse.
He gulps. “Your father requested your presence.”
My father sits alone at the head of the table.
I decide to take my place at the table head, opposite my father. It’s an obvious power move—but one my father will approve of.
I’m a Magus now, not just an Elite.
