Heart and Soul by Jackie May (reading list .TXT) 📗

last straw. He stands and begins collecting his small pile of chips.

“Please, my friend, keep your seat,” says a gentleman’s voice. He stands beside the dealer, wearing no mask, smiling pleasantly at the snake head. He’s in his fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair and a beard and the rugged type of good looks that only improve with age. Based on his impeccably tailored suit and pleasing eyes, I’d say he’s definitely not a demon, unless there’s such a thing as a glutton for charm. No, my guess is that he’s not only a sorcerer, but the ringleader of this secret society. “I can assure you that Summoner Durran is more committed to our cause than anyone, but not often is she able to enjoy a night of leisure. You must allow her reluctance to mix business with pleasure.”

The snake man sits, immediately changing his tune. “Yes, of course. I meant no offense.”

“None taken,” Tabitha chirps with a smile. “Now get into the spirit of things, would you? This is supposed to be a party. No buzzkills.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She claps her hands. “Great. So shove already.”

The man pauses. “Shove?”

“Yeah, man, shove. All in. Push your chips into the pot, see if you hit that straight.”

“Er…but the odds. You said so yourself…”

“I know, the odds are terrible. That’s what makes it fun.” There’s an edge to her voice that scares the man. He appeals with a hesitant look at the ringleader, who responds with only a smile. Reluctantly, Snake Head pushes all his chips in, after which the dealer reveals the final card. It’s not the card he needed, of course, and Tabitha adds insult to injury by revealing her hand, which could not have been beaten, even if he had drawn the straight.

The sorcerer shoots to his feet with a huff, clearly at the end of his rope. But his protest dies there, as he locks eyes with Tabitha. Her party-girl happy face has turned to an ice-cold deadpan, daring him with unblinking eyes. The sudden transformation is terrifying. Rattled, he slowly—very slowly—resumes his seat. Everybody else at the table releases a collective breath, including me.

The ringleader tugs on the cuffs of his suitcoat. “I, on the other hand, make no distinction between business and pleasure. If any of you have questions or concerns, by all means, fire away.”

Goateed Devil says, “Henry Stadther.”

“Yes. An unfortunate development, but in no way a setback, I assure you. In fact, we may even come to regard his sudden removal as advantageous.”

“How so? His clan was charged with the heavy lifting of this operation. Without their part, we’re dead in the water.”

“Henry became a liability to us the moment he met Nora Jacobs. He was obsessed with her, unable to reason. He was supposed to secure a mythic to serve as vessel for the master. He proved himself more than up to the task—he captured not one, but many, only to betray our cause by using them in his crusade against the siren.”

“Perhaps his plan was to secure Nora Jacobs as the vessel. Have you considered that? Imagine, with power such as hers—”

“You give Henry Stadther too much credit. Had he succeeded in snaring Nora Jacobs, he would only have kept her for himself. It’s likely he would have abandoned our cause, if not the entire country. We would never have seen him again. And as for the siren’s power, it is great, that’s true, but chiefly in ways not coveted by our master. Influence, persuasion, a power of attraction—these are the tools of a diplomat, not a warmonger. What we need is brute strength, a power for extraordinary violence. The master’s eye remains fixed, as ever, on the ideal: Nick Gorgeous.”

“And I say again: impossible. Not without Henry’s clan. Who else has the power, resources, and opportunity? Certainly not the sorcerer community. It would take a collective of houses working together, and right under the FUA’s nose. It’s hard enough just getting us together at these meetings.”

Tabitha corrects him. “Parties, not meetings.” A chuckle ripples through the crowd that has gathered around our table. Behind Tabitha, I see a familiar fawn mask with antlers. So Hillerman has finally caught up with her nemesis. With fists clenched at her sides, she stares at the back of Tabitha’s head.

If we had earpieces, I’d warn her not to make a move yet. It seems obvious that now’s not the time, but Hillerman’s been waiting how many years for this moment? Like Jay, she might not be able to resist for long. Panic thumps my heart against my ribs. I still have no exit strategy, no clue how to get us the hell out of here. Well, that’s not exactly true. I have a wild thought, but it’s clunky. I’d need a few different items to come together at just the right time. A miracle is what I’d need.

The charming ringleader continues. “When one door closes, another opens. Henry Stadther’s death creates a power void which rival clans are eager to fill.”

“Like who? Which clans?”

“Windsor, for one.”

Grumbles surge through the crowd. “Windsor! You can’t be serious.”

“I am. In fact, their master is on his way to us now.”

More complaints ring out. “What, here? Tonight?”

The salt-and-pepper sorcerer quiets them with a gleaming smile. “My friends, you must afford me your trust. I am not ignorant of your inclinations for or against the different clans of this territory. I say again, yes, Windsor makes their way to us at this very moment with the expectation of negotiating an accord between us. Furthermore, I inform you of the high likeliness that Windsor will not care for our answer, nor will they enjoy our method of…negotiating.”

The crowd buzzes with rejuvenated excitement. Tabitha beams with bright eyes. “See? Party.”

The eagle mask lady isn’t satisfied. “None of this means anything without Him. Where is our Grand Master?”

“Where is irrelevant. The only question is when. The Grand Master will return to us only when Arael Moaz dies.”

“The Agency will never allow that to happen.