Silken Rapture (Princes of the Underground 2)
“Usan doesn’t watch over me,” Morshiel spat. It was beyond bizarre to see a mirror-image of Blaise’s usual stoic face twisted in a bitter pique. “He adores and protects Blaise. He left me to rot in these tunnels ages ago.”
“It’s all so strange,” Aubrey broached the forbidden topic cautiously. He always had difficulty understanding if Blaise avoided speaking of his origins because he kept them secret on purpose, or whether he didn’t know any more than Aubrey did. Still, Blaise had revealed some things over the centuries. “Blaise has told me that Usan and the Magian are beings from another planet. And that you and Blaise, and the other princes and clones, share some of that alien DNA, in addition to that of humans and shapeshifters.”
Morshiel drank deeply from his goblet, turning his smirk blood-red. “And you find this hard to believe?”
“No, not in the way you’re imagining. I know intelligences from other places, other dimensions of reality, exist. I am a magician, after all. Magicians can channel demons and what some would call the lower orders of angels, creatures of wisdom who may tell us of other existences besides our own on this small, insignificant planet.” He nodded his head in the direction of Shirian, his eyes remaining on Morshiel. “If a ghost exists, why not beings from other realities…from other worlds?”
Morshiel latched a hungry gaze on Aubrey as he leaned his elbows on the table. “You can channel these spirits? Commune with them?”
Aubrey gave a negligent nod.
“That must make you very powerful,” Morshiel admitted after a pause, his expression sullenly respectful.
“It makes me very humble. We cannot begin to imagine the vastness of the universe. But whatever power I have, I am offering for your service. Tell me, have you ever met Usan?”
“Twice, but that
was centuries ago. He was in my early memories, but he has neglected me since. He gave me my heartluster and told me that Blaise would never rest until he vanquished me,” Morshiel said. His face looked hard and cold as he touched his outer thigh, stroking the sheathed weapon like a lover. His gaze leapt to Aubrey’s. “Do you see that senile fool frequently with Blaise, then?”
“I have never seen him, but from the hints Blaise has dropped over the years, I believe he visits Blaise every dozen years or so,” Aubrey admitted.
Morshiel made a disgusted noise and lifted his goblet. “I have no doubt Usan watches over Blaise’s every move, worships his every footstep. He has made Blaise master of Sanctuary and barred me from its treasures.”
“Usan may have warded Sanctuary against you and the revenants, but I made Sanctuary an unrivaled treasure,” Aubrey said, holding Morshiel’s eyes. “I did, along with all of its grandeur and miracles…never Usan. Never Blaise.”
“He thinks a great deal of himself,” the air around them hissed in Shirian’s mocking, sultry voice.
“It’s not a crime for the great to think well of themselves,” Morshiel replied, his gaze never wavering from Aubrey’s. “All right. Let’s say I agree not to take off your head this second. Let’s say I agree to work with you. What do you have in mind? What do we do next?”
Aubrey smiled to hide the flash of fear that went through him. “We kidnap an Iniskium warrior from Chicago. A man named Isi.”
“One of Saint’s followers?” Morshiel asked, leaning forward in interest. “But how will we ever accomplish that?”
“I told you that change is on the horizon. Saint somehow knew about the crystal. He is the one who warned Blaise about its presence in the British Museum tunnel. Now that Saint has vanquished Teslar—”
“There has been no definitive proof of that,” Morshiel interrupted him.
Fear spiked through Aubrey, seemingly of its own accord at the mere hint of Morshiel’s ice-cold aggression. He nodded calmly, understanding that the rumors of Teslar’s demise must not have sat well with Morshiel. Teslar was Morshiel’s equal, after all.
“Nevertheless, some change has occurred. How else could Isi travel outside the Magian-sanctioned territory where he’s always been confined? I can’t be sure, but I believe Saint wants to communicate something to Blaise, but has been forbidden to do so by his Magian overlord, Kavya. Perhaps Saint is sending Isi to Blaise as an envoy. I believe Isi carries knowledge—secrets that are relevant to Teslar’s destruction and the appearance of the crystal.”
Morshiel regarded him hungrily. “If this Isi possesses that knowledge, then he’ll know how to prevent what happened to Teslar from happening to me. You’re right. We must obtain him so that we can learn Saint’s secrets. We must do it before Blaise does.”
“I will hand Isi to you this very night. If you agree to my terms, that is.”
“It is I who will set the terms of this agreement,” Morshiel said in a hard tone before he took a drink. He grimaced suddenly and glanced own at his cup in annoyance. “If I agree to accept you as an ally, why shouldn’t our first move be for you to get me inside of Sanctuary?”
“I have thought of that,” Aubrey said honestly. “But as you know, Usan wards it against you with his magic.”
“You claim to be a great magician, though,” Morshiel said with a narrowed gaze.
“It is not a claim. It is the truth. And you are right to ask me about the wards and Sanctuary. I do believe—given time—I can weaken the boundaries sufficiently to get you inside. However, this matter with Isi is something we can—and should—move on immediately.”
Morshiel scowled, deep in thought, and lifted his goblet.
“This blood is stale. All the vitessence has faded. Bring me blood in living flesh.”
Aubrey started at the abrupt bellow. Apparently Morshiel’s revenants were not far from the tapestry-draped walls of the underground residence. A foul-looking male creature with sallow, greasy-looking skin, filmy eyes and bared fangs shoved a mortal woman in front of him. She fell to the floor at his rough treatment, whimpering as she raised her upper body with her hands. She glanced around the room, her wild eyes partially covered by mussed, auburn hair. The woman was beyond frightened, she had entered the stage of shock where all she could do was shake and stare at the horrors around her in an uncomprehending fog.