Ghastek grimaced. “I liked you better as a merc.”
“Well, too bad, because I spent two years knee-deep in Pack politics, and I know how you operate. Get me a phone number, Ghastek.”
Ghastek inhaled. “No.”
I spoke slowly, sinking menace into my words so there wouldn’t be any misunderstanding. “What do you mean, no?”
Ghastek leaned against his desk, braiding his long fingers into a single fist. “We are aware of three people who report to Roland. Of those three, one is a second-year journeyman and two are apprentices, both of whom are wavering in their devotion to your father since you personally singled them out with your goddess routine.”
The goddess routine involved me radiating magic during a tech wave. “You insisted on the goddess routine. You claimed it would boost morale.”
“It did. Do you really think that any of these three would have a direct line to your father? They don’t. They report to someone and that someone reports up to someone else and so it goes, up a very tall ladder that may reach your father or may terminate with the Legatus of the Golden Legion or any of half a dozen people in Roland’s inner circle. These contacts are best used for subterfuge and disinformation. I won’t let you throw them away so you can yell at your parent.”
“Be very careful with words like ‘let,’” I told him.
“If you wanted someone who always said yes, you should’ve picked someone else.”
“I’m reviewing the error of my ways,” I told him. “He gave an order that resulted in one of those freaks trying to eat my son. Conlan is probably traumatized for life because he watched me kill a woman in front of him.”
“Your kills are usually quick,” Rowena pointed out. “Maybe he didn’t notice.”
“He noticed.”
Conlan raised his hand, fingers outstretched, as if they had claws, and slapped the vampire upside the face.
The undead remained unmoved.
“Your son doesn’t look traumatized to me,” Ghastek observed.
“I’m sure this will surface as a repressed memory fifteen years from now.”
Conlan smacked the vampire again.
“Stop,” I told him.
“What a shame,” Ghastek murmured. “He isn’t even trying to pilot.”
Conlan raised his hand.
“Har.” No. The ancient word rolled off my tongue, suffused with magic. I was too keyed up.
Conlan dropped his hand, backed away from the vampire, and came toward me, his hands raised. “Up.”
I swung him onto my hip. My right arm screamed.
“Oh my God,” Rowena whispered. “He understood.”
Of course he understood. “Erra sings to him in Shinar every night. He speaks it better than English at this point.” I petted his hair. “I need to speak to my father, Ghastek. You’re my Legatus. Make it happen.”
Ghastek leaned over to the window and knocked on the glass. The woman ran up the stairs and opened the door.
“Just you, Eve,” Ghastek told her.
She shut the door behind her and crouched by me. “May I treat you, In-Shinar?”
Given that my arms burned like fire, it was probably a good idea. I turned to Rowena, and she took Conlan from me and smiled at him. “There is my little prince.”
Conlan petted Rowena’s fiery hair and made a cute noise.
I tried to take off my shirt. Pain shot all the way through my shoulder. Nope.
“You’ll have to cut it,” I said.
Eve opened her bag and took out a pair of scissors.
Conlan cooed, looking like the most adorable child, all innocence and light. The kind of child who would never turn into a monster and eat raw mice in the woods with his father. My son was a con man.
Eve cut my right sleeve. It fell apart. I sent a pulse of magic through the fabric, and black powder rained from it onto the floor. The last thing I wanted was my clotting blood everywhere.
Rowena gasped.
The cut on my bicep was pretty deep. It had turned an odd color of green, too. I’d thought something didn’t feel right. The bitch had poisoned me.
“Keep going,” I told Eve.
The scissors slid up my arm. My shirt fell away, leaving me in a sports bra. A dozen shallow cuts, blooming with green, covered my arms. My shoulder blade burned where the dagger had embedded itself.
Rowena put her hand over her mouth.
“Why didn’t you say something?” Ghastek demanded.
“The medic was on the way.”
“You look like you’ve been through a tornado of knives,” Rowena said.
“She had two daggers. I had no weapons, because Biohazard makes me surrender them before I go into their lab. I couldn’t use power words because Luther was at risk. I bludgeoned her to death with my bare hands and a microscope.”
The two Masters of the Dead stared at me.
“She wasn’t going to touch my son,” I told them.
Ghastek turned to the medmage. “How bad is it?”
“The cut on the right arm is deep. Slow healing is best in this case. It will take three sessions over the next twenty-four hours if the magic wave holds.”
“That won’t work for me,” I told her. “Fix the arm as much as you can. That’s all I need.”
She met my gaze. “If I do this all at once, it will be very painful.”
“That’s fine.”
“I’ll need to cleanse the wounds. They already closed. The poison is trapped inside.”
I pulled on my cuts with my magic, calling on my blood. Red slid from the gashes. Eve shied back as if struck with a live wire.
“Is that enough?” I asked.
She swallowed and held up her hands. “Yes. Please stop.”
I stopped the bleeding. A spark of magic and the blood streaking my skin turned to dust.
I held my arm out to her. Eve sat down next to me, touched my arm, her fingers cold on my skin, and began to chant. The burn in my wound exploded into ice, stabbing my muscles with a dozen sharp needles. She was a burst medic. Most medmages poured their magic into the body in a steady current, amplifying the natural regeneration. Burst medmages, who were much rarer, drove their magic into their patients, mending them like they were inanimate objects. They were excellent in emergencies, because they healed even the worst wounds fast, but the pain was excruciating.
Some terrible beast with icicle teeth bit my wound and began gnawing on it.
I unclenched my teeth before I did any damage to my jaw. “I need to speak to my father. The sahanu who attacked us isn’t the only one. Razer is in the city, so there will be more.”
A muscle jerked in Ghastek’s face. “How do you know Razer is in Atlanta?”
“The Pack snapped a candid photo of him prancing on a roof near Sandy Springs some days ago.”
The pain was almost unbearable now. I checked to see if my arm was still attached. It was.
Ghastek pushed a key on his phone.
“Yes, sir?” a male voice said.
“Prior to today, were you aware of any sahanu in the city?”
“No, sir.”
“Razer was seen near Sandy Springs two days ago by the Pack. Is it our custom now to rely on the Pack for our intelligence?”
“No, sir.”
“What’s our mission?” Ghastek’s voice was almost mild.
“To defend In-Shinar and the heir,” the man responded, his voice clipped.
My arm was actually being torn off now. I wished I had something to bite on.
“Can we accomplish this mission without proper intelligence?”
“No, sir.”
“Can you tell me why the Pack knows about the sahanu and we do not?”
Silence.
“I’m waiting,” Ghastek said, his voice iced over.
“Uh-oh,” Conlan assessed the situation.
“Uh-oh!” Rowena smiled at him. “Such a smart boy.”
Oh no. Now she was encouraging him.
“Uh-oh!” my son told her.
“Uh-oh!” Rowena said.
“Uh-oh!”
Ghastek gave her a look. She turned away, walking a few steps toward the glass window. “Look there. Look at all the vampires.”