Page 19 of The Seeker
“Mongrel dogs? That’s a new one.” She tapped her lip. “Is this Fallen here in the Americas?”
Rhys nodded.
“Who has a healthy ego and no respect for the Forgiven?” Meera mused. “My guess would be Bozidar.”
“Right in one.” He lifted his wineglass. “You are as clever as they say.”
“Do they say that? I’ll have to thank them.”
“You know you’re clever.”
“Do I?”
“I’d lose patience with you if you didn’t. I’m not a patient man.”
Meera let the matter drop. She knew the scribe wasn’t the patient sort. His restless energy didn’t fit with other academics she’d known. Was it the setting, the assignment… or was it her?
“Bozidar.” She waited for the waitress to set down another glass. “Is that who he belonged to? The Grigori today?”
“I think so.”
“Interesting.”
Rhys poured a generous serving into Meera’s glass. “Interesting is one word for it.”
“He’s been moving closer every year. Tiny steps, but consistent ones.”
“Why aren’t the scribe houses more concerned?”
She shrugged. “They judge Fallen presence by the number of Grigori attacks. They’re old-fashioned that way.”
“But not you.”
“Oh, I’m very old-fashioned.” She smiled. “About some things.”
Bozidar didn’t concern her. Maybe he should have, but Meera had dealt with Fallen antagonists her whole life. The heir of Anamitra had always been a target of the Fallen.
“Mongrel dogs,” she murmured. “That’s interesting.”
“Why?”
“Because we are. Mongrels, anyway.”
The flash of Rhys’s eyes told her he didn’t like the label.
She continued, “All but a few of us are an odd mixture of various angelic lines and human blood.” She sipped the dry red wine, another new taste since leaving Udaipur. “The Grigori, in their own twisted way, are more purely angelic than we are.”
“Do you think that makes them more powerful?”
“Yes and no. I do think it would give them some advantages if they knew what to do with it. And I think the prospect of that should terrify the Fallen.”
“Free Grigori rising up in an army against the angels who made them?” Rhys made a face. “I was hopeful once. In my experience, free Grigori willing to discipline themselves are few and far between.”
“But their numbers are growing every day,” Meera said. “Free Grigoriandkareshta.With every Fallen angel we send back to heaven, more Fallen children are free. Surely that is better than endless war.”
“You’re an idealist. Endless war is a reality. Even when we wish it wasn’t.”
Meera felt a twinge of disappointment. She had hoped—she didn’t know why—that this scribe might have been different. That he might have seen clear to envisioning a third way beyond victory or defeat.
