Page 38 of The Aether

“This will require not only your signature but your blood to seal the deal, Aether.” She lowered her voice for his hearing alone. “Do you understand what you are giving up, Damian?”

“Yes, Mattie.” Had it not made her a target of Buttagier’s ire, Damian would’ve smiled at her. Mathilda Price had been in his corner during negotiations. She’d tried to be the voice of reason and had gone toe-to-toe with the lead council to cut the terms of Damian’s employment down. All she’d earned for her troubles was their displeasure.

“You’ll be underButthanger’s thumb,” she warned.

Lips twitching, he remained silent and nodded. Mattie hated the man as much as Damian did, and her slip almost sent him over the edge into laughter.

“Fine. When you read the contract, pay special attention to page seven. The loophole you need is written there.” With her back to the council, she winked.

Not many people surprised him, and it took an effort to keep his jaw from sagging open. How she’d guessed what he intended was a mystery. One he’d solve in due time.

Mattie turned slightly and, raising her voice to include the others, said, “Very well, Aether. We shall proceed.”

With great pomp, she withdrew a white quill and handed it to him. The tip wasn’t a hardened shaft carved into a nib, as was the norm, but instead, it was metal with a razor-sharp point. Damian was expected to pierce his skin and sign his name in blood.

“Is this sanitary?” he quipped.

Biting her lip to keep a laugh at bay, Mattie darted a look toward the lead council. “Probably not, but you’ll survive.”

“True, but I’d like to keep all my fingers intact. I can’t have them falling off from rot.”

She did laugh then.

“Sign the bloody contract, Aether, and let’s be done with it,” Buttagier snapped from his perch.

To taunt him further, Damian slowly and continuously caressed the barbs of the feather, following the vane. “I’m going to want assurances that my blood cannot be removed from the parchment and that this lovely quill will be destroyed.” He locked eyes with Buttagier and, in an arctic tone, said, “We can’t have anyone attempt to manipulate me through dark blood magic, can we?”

Nothing had been proven, but there were rumors aplenty about the Authority and dark magic. Damian didn’t intend that he should fall victim to another’s foul play.

For the first time, the lead councilman lost his arrogance, and sweat beaded along his brow. He shot a glance to his left, down the length of the table. Councilwoman Otherman met Buttagier’s gaze, and something unspoken passed between them.

Seemed a few others were in favor of Damian’s request. Lifting his brows in challenge, he smiled. “That’s not too much to ask, is it, Butt”—he paused deliberately—“agier?”

Resentment flared in the other man’s eyes, but he gave an abrupt nod. “You may take or destroy the quill, as is your right to protect yourself. The contract will be secured in our vault system. None have access but those on this panel.”

“Not good enough. I ask the contract be given to the Goddess Isis for safekeeping.”

It didn’t take a genius to recognize Buttagier wasn’t thrilled with his demand, but Damian had his family to protect.

Councilwoman Otherman rose to her feet and slapped the wooden table in front of her. “Done.”

After pausing to take a long look at her, Damian smiled at what he saw. “Exalted One, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Isis shed her elderly glamour in an instant. Her long black hair was loosely braided and fell down her back. A gold circlet sat atop her glossy head. Eyes the color of amber topaz glowed with a goddess’s knowledge and power. She had discarded the black robe of the council in favor of a sky-blue gossamer gown that enhanced her shapely body and was caught at the shoulder with a gold clip in the shape of the sun.

Isis sauntered down the steps of the dais and approached him. “Beloved.”

Dropping to one knee, he lightly kissed the back of the hand she extended toward him.

“You may rise.” She took the quill from him, casually examining the nib.

“Have you always been on the Authority’s panel, or am I simply lucky?” he asked her.

“I have a vested interest in today’s outcome.” With a frown, she set the quill alight, then pinned Buttagier with a stare. “Did you know the nib contained a toxin, Councilman Butthanger?”

If the seriousness of her question hadn’t struck Damian at the same time as her use of Buttagier’s hated nickname, he’d have laughed. But as it was, he had to work not to freak the hell out. He’d been minutes, at most, away from pricking his finger to sign the contract.

Buttagier paled.

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