Hart forced a hissing breath through her teeth. "Willie's firepower didn't do much against their summoning in the warehouse. The mundane approach won't work without some serious firepower. Even then, it's not sure. With preparations, and they will be prepared, they can raise stronger spirits. Lots of them."
"Then we'll need magic to take care of the spirits." Sam stared her in the eye. He willed her to put aside her negativism. They all knew it wasn't going to be easy, but they had to do the right thing. Why was she being so difficult?
"Don't look at me that way," Hart snapped. "I'm not sure I have the juice. Putting down that last one almost broke me."
Sam was disappointed. Had the dismissal of the spirit really been so hard for her? Since that night she had been so defeatist, not like herself at all. As much as he hoped that she would be by his side to face the Circle, he knew he would face them without her if he had to. The Circle and their pawn-patron Gordon had to be stopped. If she wasn't going to be there, he'd find another way.
"Herzog will help," Sam said. He tried to sound assured. "He's always said he's a master of spirits."
"He won't leave his sewers."
Hart's statement was made with utter confidence. Sam's hope sank. She had known the Gator shaman longer than he had; he feared she was right.
"Then he'll have to teach me how to handle the spirits, because I won't let those druids sacrifice another person."
Dan had not come home for days, but Janice wasn't worried. He was strong; nothing could harm him. With him gone, her lessons had perforce stopped. She had grown bored and begun to prowl the maze that made up the residence floor. It was a fascinating place, full of mementos, books, and art. There seemed to be artifacts from all seven of the continents. Many of the more curious items were magical, and those were the most fascinating. She had never dreamed that there were so many different kinds of aids for magical operations. When Dan returned, she would badger him into explaining them to her.
She had known that his corporate holdings were widespread, but her browsings in his library and databank showed her just how extensive they were. Through networks of holding companies and brokerages, he held controlling interests in more than a dozen corporations of varying sizes. GWN was the largest, but not by much. He could go to any of the world's major cities and find one of his corporate enclaves.
Her readings uncovered a curious fact. None of the heads of his corporate empire had ever met, despite a strong interweaving of business efforts. The presidents and GEOs must be very good to pull off such an arrangement, considering the disparate natures of their businesses and the spheres in which they operated. Dan must have chosen his subordinates well. Intrigued with how he had found so many loyal followers, she delved deeper.
She began to wonder if all of Dan's top corporate officers shared his metatype. Garcia and Han were both of the metatype and so were important officers of his operations on different continents. While the computer records showed all of the principal officers as norms, she knew better in at least one case. Dan himself was head of GWN despite the registered smiling face of a blond man named Doug Randall. Therefore, there was no reason to believe that the other records told the truth. The photographs accompanying annual reports could only be considered circumstantial evidence at best. Some megacorps deliberately published false pictures of their officers as a security measure.
In the beginning, Dan had said that he wanted her to join his organization. At the time she had been scared and disoriented by her change. She had thought him hypocritical for hiding his own nature within an illusion of normal humanity. She had learned otherwise, been educated in the necessity of his approach.
In her second change she had lost her self, but with his aid she was finding that self again\a151or rather, redefining it. She no longer wanted to consider herself human. Humans were petty beings full of hate and prejudice. She wanted no connection between herself and those awful creatures.
She had come to see Dan's mask as the way of survival, appreciating its necessity and adopting one of her own. Thus, she was not surprised when the bits and pieces began to fall into place, and she realized that all of the presidents and CEOs were Dan himself. There was no need for them to communicate with each other. Each knew all of the others' plans, hopes, and aspirations. Each agreed whole-heartedly. It was a wonderful joke.
She scanned the executives' pictures over and over, imagining Dan's toothy grin lurking behind each face. The collection was a wide sampling of racial and bodily types. The choices showed a clever imagination. Would he ever consent to wearing one of his masks as they made love? Most of his guises were handsome in human terms, but a few were less than appealing, especially the grossly fat Hyde-White. She wouldn't care to share her bed with that one. She finally decided that it wouldn't matter. Her astral senses were becoming so tuned that she could pierce an illusion spell almost automatically.
She hoped he would return soon. She missed him.
Hart kept her face carefully neutral. She didn't want to give anything away. Bambatu's expression was one of stern disapproval.
"You have not fulfilled your orders, Katherine. You know that the Lady will be displeased."
"But you haven't told her, have you?"
Bambatu's mouth quirked up in irritation. It spoiled his good looks.
"Are you guessing, or are you better informed than
I think?"
His question answered hers, but Hart just smiled in response to his query. Let him worry.
"The actions of the Tir elves continue to be a problem, but not an insurmountable one. Since their split from Verner's team, they have done little to harass the Hidden Circle. Burnside's efforts are keeping the elves off balance and ineifective. However, Verner is still alive. He remains a focus for the efforts against the Hidden Circle, and I expect that sooner or later the Tir elves will rejoin their efforts to his. If they do, there is a reasonable certitude that the Circle's plans will be disrupted before they can become the undeniable embarrassment to the Lord Protector that the Lady desires them to be. With minimal planning and firepower, Verner's team and the Tir elves managed to reduce the Circle's numbers. Further reductions might prove sufficient to disrupt their plans completely. The Lady no longer wishes to see the Hidden Circle die a quiet death in the shadows. She wishes to see these druids fail spectacularly, damaging the credibility of their uncorrupted brethren and drawing the House of Britain down with them."
Hart shifted uneasily. Did he know she had actually saved Sam? "I'll take care of it. I have my reputation to consider."
"You must take positive action, Katherine. Your results to date have been unsatisfactory.''
She rose to leave.
"Soon, Katherine. The Lady has a habit of discarding unworthy servants."
"Worried about your own butt?"
"I am an elf who wishes to live a long and full life."
"That makes two of us."
The first-level precautions had proved adequate; there had been no interference in the first ritual of the new cycle. Glover felt charged with energy. He wanted to call Hyde-White, but his secretary reported that the fat man still had not arrived at his office. Glover had not seen him since those wretched American runners had ruined the second cycle's closing ritual. Hyde-White might be dead, but Glover doubted it. He felt sure that the fat man's death would resonate in the Circle's ritual. Glover had felt no diminution of power; therefore, the fat man must still be alive.
He thought it unlikely that the runners had captured the fat man. Hyde-White was too powerful, too resourceful to be held captive by the inexperienced magicians in the runners' team. Perhaps Hyde-White had been injured and was lying low, while he recuperated. Careful treatment was required to restore a magician to health without harming the delicate mana pathways through which he channeled his power. If the fat man was licking his wounds in private, he would not want to be disturbed.