Chapter 13 - Veridan

Veridan’s feet drifted several inches above the floor. His back made a slight arch as his head tilted backward, while the nebula’s power held him in place. A tendril of energy snaked its way from the dark mass to his chest, pulsating and transferring what the Sorcerer so greedily desired.

He kept control of the process. Barely. He wanted so much more, but he had to be patient and not give into the delicious power.

Gradually, the weakness that had ensued after his encounter with damn Portos and his snotty apprentice ebbed. Soon, his every nerve tingled in that exquisite sensation he’d come to crave. Pure strength flooded through his veins, making him feel indestructible.

To his great disappointment, the time to cut the connection came all too soon. And again he could only wonder what it would be like to continue and, for once and for all, exhaust every bit of energy he had harnessed. To eat his fill, so to speak.

Little by little, he floated downward, until his feet touched the floor. The dark coil that protruded from the nebula retreated, leaving him feeling powerful, yet bereft.

Clenching his jaw, he kept the covetous desire at bay. He could not give into temptation. The power was exquisite, but not limitless. He had to use it wisely.

Patience, he told himself.

Veridan took a deep breath, trying to garner the calm he would need before leaving. He had to talk to Danata and explain why the girl was still alive and had disappeared under his nose. Despite Danata’s orders, he hadn’t really set out to kill Samantha in the first place, but he still didn’t relish the prospect of explaining his “failure.”

What Veridan hadn’t counted on was running into Portos and Perry and engaging in a fight that could have easily cost him his life, had he not supplemented his energy with power from the nebula before transporting to Indiana.

He cursed Portos once more, as he’d been doing since he was forced to concede defeat. He also spared a few extra choice words for Perry—that self-satisfied brat who had refused to be his apprentice. And lastly, he cursed Fate for not granting him the power he so clearly deserved.

Always, Portos had been more skilled, blessed with more natural ability at spells. Even that stupid boy seemed to have an innate disposition and inner strength to channel magic.

Veridan clenched his hands, feeling that familiar anger wash over him.

“Over-confident fools,” he said under his breath, “Soon, I’ll show you who’s best.”

He might not have morphed into an immensely powerful Sorcerer, but he hadn’t been completely overlooked by Fate. He was tremendously skillful in crafting new spells and using magic in creative ways that lesser minds would have never imagined, while the likes of Portos had to pore over spell books, memorizing and practicing the right enunciations.

Veridan was better than that. Just like a composer creates music, he could conjure the right words to make almost anything a reality. He gazed at his nebula and smiled—proof of his superior abilities. The idea had come to him when he witnessed the extent of Danata’s abilities for the first time. They’d been practically children then. She had just morphed and had, in anger, discovered what she was capable of. A poor servant girl was the first victim. The creature had morphed into a Companion and been paired with a boy Danata had once fancied. She had never believed her nature until then.

Veridan had seen the flash of light, the energy that the ripping released, and immediately had thought of a way to harness that power. Figuring out the right spell had been child’s play for him. He had done it all himself. And wasn’t building his own power, piece by piece, more admirable than simply morphing into it by sheer luck?

But just as no creditable artist created his masterpiece in one day, it was impossible for Veridan to do something so magnificent without preparation and hard work.

Soon. Very soon.

He closed his eyes, took another deep breath, and relished the power coursing through his veins. It filled him with unbound joy and the resolve he needed to stay the course. Reluctantly, he pulled away from the intoxicating sensation of power and left his chamber.

The Regent needed her report.

* * *

“How could you let them best you?” Danata sneered.

Veridan took a deep breath and stood up to remove his jacket. He draped it over the chair he’d been occupying, taking his time to ensure there were no creases in the fabric. He’d already delivered his report, but clearly this would take longer than that.

“I saw no reason to stay and fight after it was evident the girl had fled.” He sat back down.

“You are missing the point, Veridan,” she yelled, her eyes starting to bulge a little. “You. Let. Her. Get. Away.”

Veridan took a deep breath and repeated what was sure to become his mantra.

Patience. You need her.

“I am well aware of that, my Regent.” He had a hard time leaving the sarcasm out, but Danata was too angry to notice anything past her own rage.

“Then why are you back?” Her tone was full of scorn and showed him how little she really cared about his fate.

“The battle was draining. I needed time to recover.”

Veridan watched the woman through narrowed eyes. His hands itched to cast a suffocating spell. He would love to watch her fall to her knees, gasping for air, turning purple from lack of oxygen, veins bulging at her neck, the same way as when anger possessed her. But he couldn’t. His power store depended on her and the souls she ripped. He’d tapped into his nebula twice this week—not to mention Ashby’s retrieval. At the moment, he was in the business of growing his resources, not squandering them.

“Well, you look recovered now,” she pointed out, her mouth twisting into a derisive smirk. “Go back and take care of that girl and her pet Keeper.”

“I will do so once I find them.”

“Find them?! You mean to tell me you don’t know where they are? Can’t you just do some . . . half-baked spell to locate them?” Danata gesticulated, exhibiting her impatience and ignorance in yet another unattractive way.

“It’s not that simple. A spell to pinpoint someone’s location requires precursors that—” Veridan tried to explain, but Danata cut him off.

“Clearly, Portos found the wretched creature. Even Perry,” she said with a jab at his pride.

He contained his fury, but it bubbled to the surface and manifested itself through a slight twitch of his eyelid.

If I didn’t need you, I would strangle you right here and now, you self-righteous bitch.

“You find her then!” Veridan said, losing what little patience he’d tried to garner.

He pressed his lips together, expecting his impertinence to drive Danata into a higher level of rage. He’d never spoken to her this way. Then again, he wasn’t accustomed to dealing with her on a daily basis. It was proving more than he could take. Veridan held her gaze, and they stared at each other for a few moments, unblinking.

She had felt safe around Portos. That idiot wouldn’t hurt a fly, if he did not deem it proper. But Veridan was nothing like that old, bumbling fool. She must realize who she was dealing with.

Danata scowled, her entire face looking pinched, but, in the end, she didn’t say anything.

A smile stretched across Veridan’s lips. He savored his small triumph. Danata never controlled her temper for anyone, but she was a quick study.

She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “What are our choices?” she asked in a strangled tone. Veridan chuckled inwardly. It had to be hard swallowing such an enormous amount of pride.

Veridan tried not to look too pleased. “Well, like I said, to find them we need precursors. If they had traveled by means of an incantation, I could use the traces of magic left behind to find them—that is one type of precursor.” He raised his forefinger. “If they had a charmed tracker in their possession that would be another alternative since I could follow its magic.” He held another finger up. “In the beginning, Perry used Ashby’s vinculum to find the girl, but . . .” he shrugged theatrically, “. . . that’s not an option anymore.” He raised his ring finger with a flourish.

Danata squirmed in her high-back chair. This situation was her fault, and she knew it. Her anger had reigned supreme the day the girl escaped. Not that Veridan had minded at the time. Her tantrums were always to his advantage and—on that particular day, as in many others before—he’d counted on her Ripper instinct to sever the girl from both her Integrals. What he hadn’t anticipated was Ashby’s collapse and Danata’s breakdown before she took care of the bloody Keeper.

A fine time for Danata to develop motherly tendencies!

“This time around,” he continued in an exacting manner, “everyone knew where to find them because they were still in their home town, and we had details about Samantha’s family, school and friends. That’s the only reason Portos, Perry and I knew where to go.

“Without precursors, magical means aren’t an option. Still, that doesn’t mean there aren’t other ways to track her down. Earthly ones. Cell phone and credit card records can be extremely useful. You have people who can do this for you.”

“But that could take days. I want results NOW. Finding her is your priority. I will take care of Bernard and Roanna. We can’t allow them to find the girl and bring her under their wing.”

Veridan nodded. “It suits me just fine. I have a score to settle with the Keeper, as you reminded me. Your orders align perfectly with my priorities.”

“Good.”

They exchanged a curt smile.

“So what plans have you for Roanna and the rest?” Veridan asked. He needed to stay abreast of all state affairs. “Have your received any intelligence?”

The Regent formed a steeple with her fingers. “Well, obviously she wasn’t at Modena House anymore. That was rather unfortunate.” She pressed her lips with such force that they went white. “And your report confirms that Portos has joined them. But no matter, I have set Florence Finely and her Warriors on the task of capturing them.”

Veridan pondered this course of action. It was the logical thing to do under the circumstances. Although the possibility of Danata clinging to the Regency seemed less likely by the minute—no matter how many Warriors she’d let loose on her sister.

It seemed a fight against MORF was inevitable. The only question was how long he had before it took place. Once more, it would come down to patience.

But before then, maybe there was a bit more he could gain before the unavoidable end. It was time to let Danata in on the plan that had been slowly brewing in his mind.