Page 14 of Claim the Twilight
I’m not sure how this is possible, and right now I don’t care. “Wake up!” I tap his cheek none too gently.
Once Kaster landed, the Order was quick to haul him into the nearest building. He lies on a couch now, the furniture too small for his tall frame.
I tap him again, more of a slap this time. “Wake up, dammit.”
“Mr. Crescent, this is highly inappropriate,” Charles blusters. “This is a white wing, and we must respect him.”
“How about you respect my fist in your face,” Ordell growls.
Charles’s eyes go round, and he backs up quickly. “We have protocols.”
“And I have a fist.” Ordell holds it up. “For your face.”
Violence won’t get us what we need right now, but clear reasoning might. I straighten and turn to Charles. “And what is the protocol for when an injured white wing lands on your doorstep?” Charles stares blankly at me. “There is none, am I correct?”
“Yes, but there is a chain of command, and?—”
“You’re no longer at the head of it,” Ordell finishes for him. “The Order is mine.”
“You gave control to the Order council. We have it in writing and?—”
“Fuck your writing,” Ordell snaps.
I can sense the aggression beating off him, and damned if it doesn’t call to me. I take a breath and focus on reason and logic. Anything aside from violence. “Charles, are you familiar with the terms of theMundi Ending Res?”
Charles blinks sharply. “I…Not specific terms, no.”
“Then let me educate you. Article 23 of theMundi Ending Resstates that in the event of an incident classified as potentially world-ending, the highest authority of the regions will take control of all operations geared toward prevention.”
“The mageri council isn’t the highest authority. The mageri consortium is,” Charles says smugly.
“Oh, I know.” I flick my wrist and produce a shimmering black card with the consortium logo and my photo on it. “I’m here as a consortium representative.”
His throat bobs, and his gaze flicks from the card to me then back again. “How do I even know this is real? No one has seen a consortium member. Their identities are secret.”
He’s correct. The consortium keeps their identities secret to avoid assassination. But there are exceptions. “I volunteered to leave the fold. After all, if we don’t stop Loviator, then my anonymity won’t be worth a damn. But by all means, feel free to waste time by calling in and checking.”
“Fine,” Charles says. “I’ll take your word for it, but I hardly think slapping a white wing falls under any remit, even if you do seem to be familiar with him.”
“Kaster, wake the fuck up!” Ordell booms.
I wince at the volume, but it seems to work because Kaster groans and opens his eyes.
“Finally.” Ordell looms over the male, his chest heaving. “I’m not going to ask you why you lied about who and what you are. Frankly I don’t give a fuck. I only want to know one thing. Is Orina okay?” He holds out his hand. “Take it and do the fucking mindspeak thing. Now.”
Kaster’s whole body tenses, and my gut twists. “I have my voice back now,” he says flatly. He exhales and slowly raises his gaze to us. “And I’m sorry that my first words to you can’t be more pleasant.” His throat bobs. “Orina is dead.”
Ordell has Kasterby the collar, shaking him like he’s an eightball that might give a different response.
Kaster doesn’t fight back, his gaze dull and lifeless as Ordell bellows in his face.
“You’re lying. You’re fucking lying.”
The knots inside me tighten until I can barely breathe, and my eyes burn with the threat of impotent tears.
Orina is gone.
The awful feeling in my gut was right, and now…now the world is gray. I want to walk away. To leave this place and the people in it to their fate while I grieve, but if I do that, then I’ll be walking away from the person Orina knew me to be and from everything that she would expect of me. Things that she would instinctively do.
