Silver Basilisk (Silver Shifters 4)

If was a brief flicker of a smile, like a candle in a breeze. But it was there. He’d seen it.

Relief—joy—surprise, all warred inside him. He was peripherally aware of the attention of the others, who had seen that smile, too.

The atmosphere, polite on the surface, seemed to ease a degree, then Joey Hu said, “Thanks for joining us, Rigo. I take it you’ve nothing to report?”

“Right.” Rigo accepted a cup of fresh coffee, and remembered that he’d forgotten breakfast. “I just got back from flying the coast toward the north. The only dragon I sensed was Mikhail here, flying southward.”

“Nothing to be seen in that direction,” Mikhail said.

Joey nodded. “My friend and colleague Anne, a swift shifter, has a son among our volunteers. Caleb is part of a sports team that also includes one of Long Cang’s new recruits. In locker room talk after a game, Caleb overheard the recruit complaining to another young man about their boss. He heard the word ‘Cang’ and something about promises, but so far all they’d gotten was a lot of hassle and ass-kicking.”

At that, Nikos, holding hands with Jen, grinned.

Jen said, “Might that ass-kicking have happened at the Oracle Stone site when we fought them off?”

“Caleb thought so,” Joey said. “He was one of the late arrivals that morning, so none of Cang’s people saw him before they retreated to lick their wounds. Anyway, he noted the complainers, struck up a conversation at the next game, and discovered the guy is a braggart. He’s also eager to recruit. It sounds like Long Cang is having a tough time hanging onto his minions.”

Some grim smiles met this news.

Joey went on, “So Caleb let himself be recruited, and now he’s our eyes and ears. These minions are not even remotely near Long Cang’s inner circle, but there is plenty of talk. One interesting rumor among them is that the red dragon is getting pressure from someone else.”

“Names?” Mikhail asked.

“Not so far. So what I’m thinking is this. We keep the pressure on a

t our end. Cang is desperate to get at what he thinks is the Oracle Stone, desperate enough to have paid for whatever it is he’s using to make those pairs of shamblers. It can’t be easy.”

Nikos leaned forward. “I see two possibilities here. One, we wait to see if Cang’s trouble fractures his group.”

Joey said, “That was my thought.”

Nikos said, “Second, we try to find out where he got that zombie charm, or whatever it is, by inserting someone closer inside his group.”

Joey hesitated.

Doris shook her head. “Joey’s volunteers are all mostly college age. They’re all gung ho as people can be at that age, but they’re students. Not trained spies.”

Nikos raised his hand. “I was going to suggest we call for volunteers from my hetairoi—I don’t know the word in English. My honor guard, you could call them. We could put one among the young students. A powerful mythic shifter, very well trained in martial arts. One who could perhaps be hired in as muscle—who claims their English isn’t very good, so they don’t understand a lot, which might encourage the enemy to talk right in front of her.”

Jen grinned. “I know exactly who you’re thinking of. Bryony would love it. And judging by the quality of those scrappers we fought with that night, she could account very well for herself if things went south.”

Everyone turned from Joey to Mikhail, who gave a slow nod. “I would like to meet this person. I would like to assure myself she’s qualified before she willingly goes into danger for us.”

Joey said, “That was my thought as well.”

“Done,” Nikos said.

Nikos, Jen, and Mikhail got up and went off to the other end of the terrace, talking quietly.

Doris said to Joey, “I guess the plan is to wait and see?”

Joey gave a nod, and began talking over his volunteers, none of whom Rigo knew. His attention slid from them to Godiva, who hadn’t moved from her chair, her hands still cradling a cup of coffee that she had scarcely touched.

She had that thousand-mile stare. He wondered if he should interrupt her or just wait—how to approach her on that still-rickety bridge of communication (far too early to call it trust) that he’d tried so hard to build the night before.

Then Bird stepped up to her. “Godiva, that coffee looks like it went cold. Would you like me to refresh it?”

Godiva blinked and set down the cup. “No thanks. I’ve drunk about a gallon this morning. But it’s done its job. It seems like you people have everything locked down here, for now.”