Chapter 10
784 Words
10
Dominic “Pere Mal” Malveaux reclined in a velvet chaise in the corner of the Carousel Bar, nursing a Sazerac. He took a sip of the bittersweet whiskey cocktail, staring down at the glass and swirling the remaining ice. Things were not proceeding at all as he’d planned, and it was all the fault of those f*****g Guardians. The stupid bear shifters were meddling in things they didn’t understand, and the results could be disastrous for Pere Mal.
Nothing in this world was free. If you wanted something badly enough, especially a great deal of power, certain debts would accrue. Pere Mal owed some mighty large debts, and the holders of those debts were neither patient nor kind.
He’d lost the First Light, the pretty blond who’d settled with the Scottish Guardian. Their bonding had been an unfortunate blow for Pere Mal, but he’d come to accept it… especially when the First Light’s usefulness had faded.
But the Second Light, Cassandra Chase, had been stolen from him. Taken from his very house. That would not stand. Not when the girl’s fate was so enmeshed with the Third and Final Lights. Pere Mal’s seers and sorcerers hadn’t figured out exactly how it would play out, but Miss Chase was to be a very, very important figure in Pere Mal’s future plans.
Added to the fact that she also hosted the Oracle, whose visions and prophecies he direly missed. Pere Mal set his glass on a low table and rose, determined.
Yes, Cassandra Chase must be recovered at any cost.
“Monsieur,” one of his men said, approaching with a slight bow.
“You’ve found the Oracle?” Pere Mal asked.
“I have both good and bad news,” the suited man said, looking as if he were desperately trying not to flinch under Pere Mal’s gaze.
“Bad news first, I suppose.”
“Our spies report that the Oracle and one of the Guardians are… involved. Fated mates, actually,” the man said with a wince.
Pere Mal closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, unwilling to make a scene in the glitzy bustle of the Carousel Bar. Likely his aide had waited to approach him until now for that very reason. It took him almost a full minute to gather himself before he could respond.
“Which Guardian?” he asked at last.
“The sorcerer, we believe. Sir.” The man was visibly sweating now as he stood at attention, waiting for Pere Mal to react.
“Ah. I’d rather it be none of them, but I worry most about the other one. The Viking,” Pere Mal sighed. “There is something about him that I do not like.”
Fear, more like, but Pere Mal no longer used such terms in reference to himself. It appeared weak, and he needed his men to have utter confidence in him.
“Yes, sir. You think the sorcerer is weak, then? My spies say they are trying to conceive, which could help us further. Couldn’t it?” the aide asked.
Pere Mal favored him with a smirk. The news really wasn’t bad, exactly, so much as it might require more patience.
“I think all bear shifters grow foolish around their mates and spawn,” Pere Mal said briskly. “That is what happens when one follows their heart and not their intellect and wisdom. I also think that if Miss Chase is foolish enough to begin a family with her Guardian, she will give us the ammunition we need to destroy them both. It’s so simple, really…”
Pere Mal thought it through for a moment, then nodded with a deep satisfaction. The aide just wrung his hands, looking obscenely relieved.
“I will need you to monitor them closely, tell me if their status changes in any way. Especially the family way, you understand?”
“Of course, of course.”
“Well? What’s the good news, then?” Pere Mal prompted, growing irritable.
“You requested that we scry for the Final Light. Impossible conditions of parentage, I think you mentioned? We found what you asked for.”
The aide produced a stack of glossy photos for Pere Mal to peruse, and he nearly laughed when he saw the contents.
“Shall I intercede, Monsieur?” the man asked.
“No,” Pere Mal said with a grin. “No, leave it alone. It would be far better not to draw attention to the situation. If no one is looking, there is no problem, n’est-ce pas?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The place where the Guardians live, what is it called?”
“I know not, sir.”
“I need all the information you can get about it. Get someone inside, someone who knows magic. I need to know everything about that place, and about the Oracle’s movements.”
“Of course, Monsieur.”
“You’re dismissed. Have the waitress bring me another Sazerac,” Pere Mal said, waving the aide away.
He settled back in his seat and picked up his glass once more, draining the last sip. Things were beginning to look very good for Dominic Malveaux.
Very good indeed.
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