Dan hadn’t come home for days, but Janice wasn’t worried. He was strong; nothing could harm him. With him gone, her lessons had perforce stopped. She had grown bored and begun prowling the maze that made up the residence floor. It was a fascinating place, full of mementos, books, and art. There seemed to be artifacts from all seven of the continents. Many of the more curious items were magical, and those were the most fascinating. She had never dreamed there were so many different kinds of aids for magical operations. When Dan returned, she would badger him into explaining them to her.
She had known his corporate holdings were widespread, but her browsing in his library and databank showed her just how extensive they were. Through networks of holding companies and brokerages, he held controlling interests in more than a dozen corporations of varying sizes. GWN was the largest, but not by much. He could go to any of the world’s major cities and find one of his corporate enclaves.
Her readings uncovered a curious fact. None of the heads of his corporate empire had ever met, despite a strong interweaving of business efforts. The presidents and GEOs must be very good to pull off such an arrangement, considering the disparate natures of their businesses and the spheres in which they operated. Dan must have chosen his subordinates well. Intrigued with how he had found so many loyal followers, she delved deeper.
She began to wonder if all of Dan’s top corporate officers shared his metatype. Garcia and Han both were, and so were important officers of his operations on different continents. While the computer records showed all of the principal officers as norms, she knew better in at least one case. Dan himself was head of GWN, despite the registered smiling face of a blond man named Doug Randall. Therefore, there was no reason to believe the other records told the truth. The photographs accompanying annual reports could only be considered circumstantial evidence at best. Some megacorps deliberately published false pictures of their officers as a security measure.
In the beginning, Dan had said he wanted her to join his organization. At the time, she had been scared and disoriented by her change. She had thought him hypocritical for hiding his own nature within an illusion of normal humanity. She had learned otherwise, been educated in the necessity of his approach.
In her second change, she had lost her self, but with his aid she was finding that self again—or rather, redefining it. She no longer wanted to consider herself human. Humans were petty beings full of hate and prejudice. She wanted no connection between herself and those awful creatures.
She had come to see Dan’s mask as the way of survival, appreciating its necessity and adopting one of her own. Thus, she was not surprised when the bits and pieces began to fall into place, and she realized all of the presidents and CEOs were Dan himself. There was no need for them to communicate with each other. Each knew all of the others’ plans, hopes, and aspirations. Each agreed wholeheartedly. It was a wonderful joke.
She scanned the executives’ pictures over and over, imagining Dan’s toothy grin lurking behind each face. The collection was a wide sampling of racial and bodily types. The choices showed a clever imagination. Would he ever consent to wearing one of his masks as they made love? Most of his guises were handsome in human terms, but a few were less than appealing, especially the grossly fat Hyde-White. She wouldn’t care to share her bed with that one. She finally decided that it wouldn’t matter. Her astral senses were becoming so tuned that she could pierce an illusion spell almost automatically.
She hoped he would return soon. She missed him.
Hart kept her face carefully neutral. She didn’t want to give anything away.
Bambatu’s expression was one of stern disapproval. “You have not fulfilled your orders, Katherine. You know the Lady will be displeased.”
“But you haven’t told her, have you?”
Bambatu’s mouth quirked up in irritation. It spoiled his good looks. “Are you guessing, or are you better informed than I think?”
His question answered hers, but Hart just smiled in response to his query. Let him worry.
“The actions of the Tír elves continue to be a problem, but not an insurmountable one. Since their split from Verner’s team, they have done little to harass the Hidden Circle. Burnside’s efforts are keeping the elves off balance and ineffective. However, Verner is still alive. He remains a focus for the efforts against the Hidden Circle, and I expect that sooner or later the Tír elves will rejoin their efforts to his. If they do, there is a reasonable certitude that the Circle’s plans will be disrupted before they can become the undeniable embarrassment to the Lord Protector the Lady desires them to be. With minimal planning and firepower, Verner’s team and the Tír elves managed to reduce the Circle’s numbers. Further reductions might prove sufficient to disrupt their plans completely. The Lady no longer wishes to see the Hidden Circle die a quiet death in the shadows. She wishes to see these druids fail spectacularly, damaging the credibility of their uncorrupted brethren and drawing the House of Britain down with them.”
Hart shifted uneasily. Did he know she had actually saved Sam? “I’ll take care of it. I have my reputation to consider.”
“You must take positive action, Katherine. Your results to date have been unsatisfactory.”
She rose to leave.
“Soon, Katherine. The Lady has a habit of discarding unworthy servants.”
“Worried about your own butt?”
“I am an elf who wishes to live a long and full life.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Then be sure not to fail again.”
The first-level precautions had proved adequate; there had been no interference in the first ritual of the new cycle. Glover felt charged with energy. He wanted to call Hyde-White, but his secretary reported the fat man still had not arrived at his office. Glover had not seen him since those wretched American runners had ruined the second cycle’s closing ritual. Hyde-White might be dead, but Glover doubted it. He felt sure that the fat man’s death would resonate in the Circle’s ritual. Glover had felt no diminution of power; therefore, the fat man must still be alive.
He thought it unlikely that the runners had captured the fat man. Hyde-White was too powerful, too resourceful to be held captive by the inexperienced magicians in the runners’ team. Perhaps he had been injured and was lying low while he recuperated. Careful treatment was required to restore a magician to health without harming the delicate mana pathways through which he channeled his power. If the fat man was licking his wounds in private, he would not want to be disturbed.
The Hidden Circle had lost one member to the surprise raid by the runners. But then, Carstairs had been something of a weak sister, though not as bad as Neville. Too bad the fireballs hadn’t caught him instead. The simpering old fool was weak-willed despite his considerable mana-manipulation ability, and Glover would gladly have accepted the drop in the Circle’s power. Such a power loss would only be temporary, for the rituals were raising the pool of mana which he, as archdruid, could direct.
The day of restoration approached nearer with the sacrifice of each soul whose blood bathed the land. Still, it would be some time until they could complete the full cycle of rituals as Hyde-White had prescribed. Until then, mosquitoes such as the American runners could continue to plague them. Perhaps something more direct should be done about them.
Glover poured himself another brandy and reseated himself before the fire to contemplate the situation.