Eph suppressed his alarm at the Master knowing about Fet. Did the Master get it from Eph’s mind? Was he raiding Eph’s knowledge as they spoke here?
No. Setrakian. The Master must have turned him before the old man destroyed himself. The Master had seized all of Setrakian’s knowledge just as he now wanted to seize all of Eph’s: through possession.
You have proven yourself quite resourceful, Goodweather. I am confident you can find the Lumen.
“I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”
Haven’t you? I can tell you now that you will have some assistance in this endeavor. An ally. One among your inner circle. Not physically turned—no. Only sympathetically. A traitor.
Eph did not believe this. “Now I know that you are lying.”
Do you? Tell me this. How would this lie profit me?
“… By stirring up discontent.”
There is already plenty of that.
Eph thought about it. It seemed true: he could find no advantage for the Master in lying.
There is one among you who will betray you all.
A turncoat? Had another one of them been co-opted? And then Eph realized that, in expressing it that way, he was already counting himself as having been co-opted as well.
“Who?”
This person will reveal themselves to you, in time.
If another had been compromised and chose to deal with the Master without Eph—then Eph could lose his last, best chance at saving his son.
Eph felt himself swaying. He felt this enormous tension in his mind. Fighting to keep the Master out, and fighting to keep his doubts in.
“I … would need a little time with Zack beforehand. Time to explain my actions. To justify them, and to know that he is fine, to tell him—”
No.
Eph waited for more. “What do you mean, no? The answer is yes. Make it part of the deal.”
It is not part of any deal.
“Not part of any … ?” Eph saw his dismay in the faceplate reflection. “You don’t understand. I can barely even consider doing what you have proposed here. But there is no way—no way in hell—that I go through with this unless I get a guaranteed opportunity to see my boy and know that he is fine.”
And what you don’t understand is that I have neither patience nor sympathy for your superfluous human emotions.
“No patience … ?” Eph pointed the tip of his silver sword at the helmet visor in angry disbelief. “Have you forgotten that I have something you want? Something you apparently very desperately need?”
Have you forgotten that I have your son?
Eph stepped backward as though shoved. “I can’t believe what I am hearing. Look—this is simple. I’m inches away from saying yes. All I’m asking for is ten goddamned minutes …”
It is even simpler than that. The book for your boy.
Eph shook his head. “No. Five minutes—”
You forget your place, human. I have no respect for your emotional needs and will not make them part of the terms. You will give yourself to me, Goodweather. And you will thank me for the privilege. And every time I look at you for the rest of eternity here on this planet, I will regard your capitulation as representative of the character of your entire race of civilized animals.
Eph smiled, his crooked mouth like a weird gash across his face, so stunned was he by the creature’s abject heartlessness. It reminded him of what he was up against—what they were all up against—in this cruel and unforgiving new world. And it astounded him how tone-deaf the Master was when it came to human beings.
In fact, it was this lack of comprehension—this utter inability to feel sympathy—that had caused the Master to underestimate them time and time again. A desperate human is a dangerous human, and this was one truth the Master could not divine.