Page 132 of The Mech Who Loved Me
"It's not important," the Master stated. "Ulbricht was a puppet, and his loss means little to the cause. Whatisimportant is blue bloods are being killed all across London—at the hands of humans and mechs. The aristocrats of the Echelon are running scared, and bleating to the queen and the Council of Dukes that the people want them dead. Three of their precious draining factories have been burned, and they'll blame the humans for it. The humanists have clashed with the Nighthawks in a catastrophic manner. London's ripe for dissent. Now is the time to divide the classes. I want war in thestreets."
"The Nighthawks are claiming blue bloods were involved with the draining factory explosion. It's all through the papers, my lord,"Obsidiansaid.
Ghost cut him a sharp glance. They'd agreed not tomentionthat.
The Master's lips thinned. "Malloryn's doing, no doubt. He's starting to trulyirritateme."
"I could deal with him," Ghost offered. "Slowly."
"No." The word was hard and emphatic. "Malloryn must be the last to die. I want to take everything away from him first: his precious queen; the city he loves and fought to protect; I want to destroy his ancestral home; to kill every single person around him, including all the agents he's surroundedhimselfwith...."
Obsidian watched as the man paused. He recognized hate when he saw it—the same emotion bound him tothepast.
"Then what do you want us to do? This draining factory scheme was a defeat. Malloryn won, despite Ulbricht's maverick plans. That can't be tolerated, despite the desire for secrecy while we enact the next phase of the plan," Ghostargued.
Obsidian waitedbreathlessly.
"It's not a complete loss. The blue bloods are running scared. Spread some whispers the Nighthawks are covering up the truth about the explosions. Paint a few humanist symbols around the site, or on one of the remaining factories." The Master paused, rubbing at the blackened scar across his throat he usually hid. Its edge was puckered, and it looked as though it had never truly healed. "And then kill one of Malloryn's little company as punishment for ruining my little scheme with Ulbricht. One of thewomen."
"Which one should we kill?" Ghostasked.
"What do theylooklike?"
Obsidian and Ghost exchanged glances. "Why?" Obsidianchanced.
"I want to send Malloryn a message," the Master said. "I want to remind him of the past, and let him start to wonder who he's dealing with." He laughed suddenly, a rusty noise, as though this was agreatjoke.
Obsidian had spent the most time observing Malloryn's Company of Rogues. "Miss McLaren is a blonde with a slim build; Isabella Rouchard has dark hair and voluptuous curves; Ingrid Byrnes has brown hair, amber eyes, and an Amazonian figure typical of her verwulfen race; and... the woman who calls herself Gemma Townsend has dyedblackhair."
And an even blackerheart.
Pale eyes seared him as the Master clearly heard something in Obsidian's voice he hadn't been aware of. "GemmaTownsend?"
The name echoed through the abandoned underground trainstation.
"Hollis Beechworth," Obsidian stated coldly, hiding a flinch. His fist clenched.Not her.He wasn't done with her yet. "Emma Rusden. Alice Clayton. Or Gemma Townsend, as she goes by now. She's been Malloryn's right hand foryears."
"The spy in Malloryn's party in Saint Petersburg seven years ago," Ghost added quietly, and both he and the master exchanged asignificantlook.
"Black hair," the Master repeated, reaching into his pocket. "Her. She's the one. The perfect candidate. Have her killed. Put her in a white gown, like something a debutante—or a thrall—would wear. Then shoot her straight through the heart. And leave her on Malloryn'sdoorstep."
Obsidian's chest tightened, as though a metal fist gripped his heart.No.Blood began to rush through his ears as the darker half of him rose to the surface, picturing herdeath.
Violence rose in his throat, threatening to choke him. A demanding rage he fought, locking it down deep inside him. He could almost feel the electric lash of the whip across his back, the leather gag between his teeth as Ghost put him through his conditioning after he'd failed to kill her thefirsttime.
"Do you still love her?"Ghost had asked, as Obsidian fought to breathe around the gag. Ghost held up the electric wire."Do you have any feelings for that lying little bitch stillwithinyou?"
No.He'd shaken his head. And thatnohad echoed in the place his heart used to lie. Before she ripped it out of hischest.
Ghost straightened. "Yes, Lord Balfour. I'll get one of the new recruits to do it. Perhaps Langley. He needs to prove he's ready to be initiated into theBrotherhood."
Langley was a dead man. Obsidian kept all signs of it off his face,however.
The Master removed his hand from his pocket, fingering something with a certain kind of careful grace. He stared at it for a long moment, as though it meant something to him. Then his lips thinned, and he thrust the thing at Ghost. "And have him put this aroundherneck."
"A locket?" Ghost soundedsurprised.
"Malloryn will know who it belongs to." The Master finally smiled. "Make sure you watch when he finds the locket. I want you to describe the look on his face to me, in perfect, exquisitedetail."
