“What does the Council know?” Cari’s voice was business direct. She’d learned at Caspar Dolan’s knee. More bothersome was the concentration of Shadow he could sense humming within her. He’d felt something like it around Kaye Brand, when she worked with fire. But never before with Cari. Late bloomer?
Mason settled uneasily back into his seat, shoved the stick in gear, and took the turn of the drive fast enough that the surrounding trees suddenly went luminous, not unlike the forest of Twilight. “In a nutshelclass="underline" they think it’s one of theirs.”
“You don’t say.” Unimpressed again. “Who do they suspect?”
So sure of herself. Well, why shouldn’t she be? Dolan had stayed strong throughout magekind’s history. Considering the gathered night he sensed inside Cari—when had she come into such power?—he was starting to understand the House’s longevity. Dolan had thus far sidestepped violence and reprisals; knowing whom to trust made a big difference.
And now once again, Dolan was in a position to know. How did they manage that when Mason had to trade blood and favors for his puzzle pieces?
“When Kaye took over the Council from Ferrol Grey, most of the original Seats supported her because she is so adept—spectacular, really—at fire. Made her seem like one of the Old Ones in the mage story books.” Maybe Cari was like that, too. Maybe this new Dark Age bred old power. Mason continued, “Plus Brand is an old House, and she seemed to have contacts everywhere.”
“And then the Council found out about the angel,” Cari supplied.
“Yeah,” Mason said, turning onto I-95. He spat out the name: “Jack Bastian.”
Cari looked over, eyebrow raised. “And?”
Mason shrugged. “He’s a son of a bitch. Older than the hills. I don’t know how much he qualifies as an angel anymore, except that technically he is one.”
Cari snorted. “I’m surprised the Order keeps him, a soul crazy enough to sleep with Shadow.”
Mason found it ironic that he’d unknowingly done the same with Liv, all those years ago. And yes, it had been crazy. Brand and Bastian should take note.
“Most Houses are disgusted, including the ones that still back her. And some feel outright betrayed. But since Brand and Bastian seemed to forestall a strike by the Order against magekind, the Houses have tolerated his presence with her in the Seat.”
“Until lately,” Cari said. “Brand mentioned that she was concerned someone might target her.”
Mason chuckled bitterly. “Kaye Brand isn’t scared of anything. If she seemed vulnerable, she was manipulating you.” He still believed that Kaye was the only thing standing between magekind and open hostilities with the Order. But without Ferrol Grey and his iron ring, there was no House holding the Council together.
“So who do they think it is behind the plague?”
“A Council insider, possibly a member, since some of the deaths could only have occurred if the perpetrator had privileged information. Whoever it is has killed children in this ugly enterprise as well.”
Silence from Cari. Then, soberly, “The contagion has ripped through many Houses. Which children?”
Mason listed the names and the Houses to which they belonged. The House responsible for this plague would be crushed until all that was left was its broken foundation.
“Parents must be worried out of their minds.” Cari looked out the side of her window, but Mason caught the sheen of tears.
Was Fletcher homesick? Would Webb do right by him?
“Yes,” Mason said in an undertone. “We are.”
Chapter Three
“And your child?” Cari couldn’t have felt more awkward. She didn’t even know if he’d had a boy or a girl. She’d heard nothing about the baby after Liv had gone back home so long ago. The subject was taboo among the Walkers.
Plus, she’d been a little devastated herself.
“Safe.” His low, clipped tone permitted no further discussion.
Since Liv had run off with him, Cari hadn’t wanted to know anything about Mason Stray and his exploits. But now she was older, wiser, and immune. She wanted to add informed to that list.
Mason turned into the DolanCo Business Center, the place where her father had died.
The center had always reminded her of a blocky cruise ship in a sea of grass that ran unbroken to the horizon. The main building was multi-storied, but at the tenth floor, the structure drew in to accommodate a large patio with a wide lip. The grounds had an outer courtyard and several smaller buildings, all white concrete, so that as one approached, the structures looked like the frothy wake of the ship’s passage.
Mason parked in the general lot—she hadn’t thought to direct him to the Dolan garage on the other side. Maybe it was better this way—she remembered how he’d frowned at her house and refused the better car. Maybe he was sensitive to things, having them or not having them. Made sense, considering he was a stray, but it was short-sighted of him. Things didn’t matter; family did.
They walked in silence down the path that led to the courtyard and the spot where her father had fallen. The buildings seemed to close around her. Someone, recognizing her, started to approach, but Mason held up his hand to keep them back.
Cari appreciated the gesture. She was having a hard time coordinating the in and out of her breathing as she was once again confronted with that terrible moment. The Center employed hundreds of humans, but she had no idea what they’d been told about her father’s death. By now everyone would connect what had happened at the Stanton Massacre to what had happened to her father, and they would know that they were employed by mages.
“Over there.” Cari motioned toward the fountain where some people took their lunches, now empty in the late afternoon.
This was where her father had fallen. The desperate panic that had been her companion since his death tightened her chest. Felt as if she’d just been here. Just seen it. As if it was still happening and wouldn’t stop. She was going to burst.
“What do you see?” Mason’s voice was almost gentle. He respected her loss. She remembered how he could be kind when he wanted to be. It’d surprised her years ago, so it shouldn’t have now.
He would know about her House’s ability to see the umbra trails of mages. Every mage did. But right now, she could perceive nothing. Just the cold, gray day. A dank heaviness to the air.
“Cari?” His low tone plucked a bass string within her that resonated on a primal level. She remembered that too. The lingering vibration helped her find her voice.
“Okay.” Time to do this. She should have come as soon as she’d recovered. Fact was, she’d been scared to do it alone.
She called upon her umbra, and Shadow sprang readily from the concrete and saturated Cari’s senses with a rough wave of awareness that rushed her blood, mind, and vision. A week ago she’d had to pull and coax the stuff to do her bidding. But now . . . so very much breathless Shadow exploding from within her. A cold sweat broke out on her skin, but she could see the dark paths of what had to be herself and Mason trailing to and from the parking lot. She wasn’t interested in them, so she pulled harder, felt herself grow somehow bigger, grow vast as she fought time, forcing it to reveal the Shadow trails that had passed before.
Her attempt to look back in time should’ve been laborious, but today turning back the clock was easy.
You are the Dolan now, said a strong voice in her head. Her father’s?