Page 22 of Fortress of Ambrose
“It’s not her I’m worried about. Audubon is an opportunist. He’s made a living on disloyalty. I usually try to kill this man when I see him. And we’re going to walk in here and trust him?”
“You’re walking in on Knox’s credibility. Start acting like you see in you what she sees in you.”
I follow at a reluctant pace up a stone ramp and to the grand doors. A melodious bell brings the butler to the door. He greets us stoically and shows us to the library. When half an hour has passed and only refreshments have arrived, I stand and pace.
“Jordan, what do you fear?” It’s Knox. My stomach twists at the intensity in her stare.
So many things.“Losing everything.” I lace my hands together, resisting the urge to look at Quell. “Because I trusted the wrong people.”
“I won’t lie to you,” she goes on. “Part of the reason I am helping you is because I trust Quell. I also have seen your heart, and there is good in there somewhere. But there is a war inside you, and the final battle hasn’t yet been decided.”
Her words skid up my spine like ice. I rub my hands so hard together my skin is red when the sound of footsteps clacking on the polished floors turns me in my chair.
“Knox.” Audubon greets her with a kiss a bit too close to her mouth. And for the first time, she smiles. He’s a man of small stature with warm brown skin, a thick head of white hair, and a mouth that’s crooked. He snaps for his butler. “Bring them some brunch bites.” He studies Quell from head to toe with a lecherous expression. The cold inside me leaps, and I force my feet to stay in place. We need this man’s help. I should not rip his eyes from their sockets.
“The very last person I thought I’d see here.” Audubon traces his jaw, giving me a curt nod. He extends a platter of hand-rolled cigars. “But these are grave times, full of surprises.”
I don’t take the peckle. Knox does, and so does Quell, to be polite I imagine. I try to at least say,Good to see you again, but the words won’t come. I force a tight smile that feels more like a grimace.
“You look well, considering the rumors,” he says to me.
“Never felt better.” I cross my arms, watching his movements.
“Are they true? Do you possess the Sphere’s magic?”
“You don’t ask questions you don’t already know the answer to.”
His crooked mouth twists into a smile.
“I’m glad to see you’re alright,” he says, turning to Knox with steepled hands. “Let’s get into it. What’s on the table today?”
“Nothing, officially,” she says. “I need to know where Willam is.”
He smooths his pants, and Quell’s foot begins tapping. “The network of safe houses is evolving, finding common interests in surprising places.”
Audubon doesn’t even look my way. “Should we speak privately?” he asks Knox, but I’m tired of wasting time. I know how to bait an opportunist.
“Safe houses don’t need to be in the shadows if the Order is falling apart, I get it. New alliances are being formed. But we see an opportunity for you, as the money cleaner,ifyou help us.”
Audubon sets down his cigar. “I amreallybeginning to understand the appeal of this guy.” He crosses his legs. “But not all causes are profitable, even if they pay well.”
“Cowards hide behind riddles.”
“You are highly sought after, Mr.Wexton. So sure, I could help you all and magic and everyone. Or I could helpme.”
Knox’s stare widens in shock. “Lennox, please. Willam’s location. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Life is a game of Russian roulette, Knoxy, you know this. I make my bets with the best information I have. And this one hasso many bidders.”
“Don’t do this. After all we’ve been through, we’re as good as family.”
He shrugs. “Times are changing.”
She frowns. Ice pricks my chest, the Sphere’s magic rising up in me, burning a degree colder every second I stare at Audubon. Quell’s foot taps faster beside me, and I can feel the fear rippling in her chest.
“New clients are emerging,” Audubon says. “And they all have one thing in common—they wantthis guy.” He taps my knee, and I consider how good it would feel to snap his finger in half. Black seeps out of my pores, spreading across the floor in a fine mist. Audubon’s poker face is unreadable. Quell grabs my arm, and her touch stills me like an anchor. When she realizes what she’s done, she snatches her hand away.
“Everyone out,” she says. “I want to speak with Audubon privately.”
