Page 101 of Possess Me at Midnight
“What would that be? Murder and mayhem? Slaughtering of innocents? Raping and enslaving? Murdering our leaders like Thomas MacKinnett and Clifden O’Shea?”
“We have only circumstantial proof that he’s involved in any of those atrocities. He’s assured us they are rogue factions of the Anarki, and he’s working to bring them under his control again and direct their efforts to matters more productive for magickind.”
“And you’re gullible enough to believe him?”
I wince. My brother has always been able to finesse and cajole situations and people to his advantage. This bull-in-the-china-shop approach will get him nothing but ignored and discredited.
I wrest the mirror from his hands with a warning glance and hiss, “If you want to influence others, try civil words, dear brother.”
He lunges at me, groping for the mirror. To my surprise, Ice and Lucan each grab a shoulder and push him back to the sofa.
“Let her try,” Lucan insists. “She’ll be far more delicate than you.”
Bram curses, fights, then finally sighs and slams back into the sofa, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re likely right. Damn it all.”
He wears petulance sorely, but I can’t spare the spell that’s choked his diplomacy another moment right now. But as soon as I have two minutes to rub together, I’ll start researching—and figure out how to break this hex once and for all.
“Hello, Kelmscott.” I smile at the older man’s thin-faced image, framed in gray hair and thick sideburns.
“Sabelle, dear. Lovely as always. What’s gotten into your brother?”
“Bad mood.” I smile sweetly. “I’ve threatened to throw him to a pack of wild dogs if he fails to improve.”
Spencer laughs. “Always a bright girl.”
“Thank you. You’re quite smart yourself, so you must know he was trying, although somewhat indelicately, to ask if you had received any assurances from Mathias that he’s not behind the violence? Or if you’ve heard how he plans to progress and repair magickind? Since Bram has been somewhat out of pocket, you see.”
“Of course, of course.” Then he strokes his gray beard. “Now that you mention it, not precisely. But Mathias has advised us of potential unrest among the Deprived. He claims they’re at their wit’s end with the Social Order and warns there will likely be civil war if they are not…accommodated.”
In other words, Mathias insinuated that he’ll bring down the brunt of the Deprived anger on the Council if they don’t nominate and elect him. They’ve chosen the coward’s way out, believing that placating Mathias now will spare them mayhem and violence later. Fools.
“That’s a grave warning, indeed. But I have to wonder… Can Mathias truly quell any Deprived unrest?”
“Of course. He is their champion, my dear,” Kelmscott reminds.
Beside me, Ice snorts and shakes his head.
“He claims to be, yes. But he’s not one of them, so how can he know the Deprived will truly follow him? Or even what they want?”
The old wizard sighs. “You ask valid questions, but I don’t think we can afford to simply ignore the potential danger that refusing him would bring. If he’s deceiving us all, and he’s behind the recent attacks, perhaps keeping him close and controlled would put a stop to all this nonsense.”
Two of his fellow Council members were brutally murdered in a handful of days, and he’s trying to write it off as “nonsense”?
I grit my teeth. Spencer and Blackbourne, apparently two peas in a pod, have both determined that giving Mathias an inch will persuade him to sit quietly in his corner like a good boy. Neither sees that he will, in fact, take a mile.
Then…an idea occurs to me.
“If you’re truly concerned about a Deprived uprising, perhaps we should consider another candidate whom they might receive more enthusiastically? In trying times, it might be best to consolidate our power and deal with this threat in a rational, well-planned manner with a voice familiar to them, rather than one with a history of violence. After all, the Council wouldn’t want to be viewed as weak enough to bow to anyone’s threats.”
Spencer frowns. “If you’re thinking to nominate Lucan MacTavish, save your breath. Blackbourne and I have already discussed this, knew Bram would push it. Sterling and his nephew… The family ties are far too close.”
I wasn’t going to suggest Lucan, but… “Sterling has his own heirs. The seat should never pass down through Lucan and?—”
“Two MacTavish wizards on the same council creates a potential impediment to fair voting on future issues.”
Translation: the loss of power likely to result if the MacTavish men create a voting bloc with Bram is something they will avoid at all costs. Shortsighted idiots.
“Don’t frown, girl. I’m quite set, and I speak for Blackbourne as well. The Council needs new blood, and Lucan MacTavish would bring only more of the same.”
