Читать книгу Sacrificial Magic - Stacia Kane, Stacia Kane - Страница 8

Duty to the self can only be served after duty to the Church. It is right and proper that the Church come first.

—The Book of Truth, Laws, Article 217

That thought, and the feeling of doom it created in the pit of her stomach, burning a hole into her soul, stayed with her as she walked into Elder Griffin’s office the next morning. Most cases were given out on Wednesdays, and she could use a new case. Sure, she’d made a good chunk of cash on her last one—and almost been killed a few times to earn it—but after a new car, couch, and some clothes, a weekend at the pipes and another in a hotel in Northside with Terrible, her bank account still looked good, but not as good as she would have liked.

Besides, seeing Elder Griffin made her feel better, as much as she could. And she could use it. She’d ended up home in her own bed, alone, because Terrible and Bump had things to talk about, things to do, people to beat down—so she assumed—and he didn’t know how long it would be. She’d left her kitchen light on hoping he’d come over when he was done, but he hadn’t. He’d texted around six to say he was just going back to his place because it was closer. She really, really wanted to believe that.

It grew so exhausting waiting for the other shoe to drop that she wondered if she wasn’t trying to make it fall already. Sometimes, even, she almost wanted to tell him to just end it and get it over with. But she couldn’t. Just the thought of it … No. She couldn’t.

Elder Griffin stood up to answer her quiet knock, to greet her as she pushed the already unlatched door open and slipped inside. “Good morrow, Cesaria. How fare thee?”

She dipped into a quick, automatic curtsy. “Very well, sir. How are you?”

He smiled, his blue eyes kind. And happy. He looked … yeah, happy. Not happy like he usually looked. Extra happy. “Excellent, my dear. Come, sit down.”

She followed him back to his broad, shiny wood desk, situated right in front of the window covered with sheers. Through that gauzy, barely-there fabric the side lawn of the building glowed with the green of early spring while the trees showed off their new leaves. Everything new. Everything except her. She hated spring.

She sat in the leather chair opposite, some of her tension—the tension even four Cepts hadn’t managed to chase completely away—fading. It would never totally disappear, no matter what she did or what she took. But it faded a little. Just the sight of the room, the skulls on the shelves, the jars full of herbs and potions, the television mounted high on the wall behind her with the sound muted, felt safe. The way the building felt safe. The first place that had ever been a home to her, the place where her entire life changed.

“I’m pleased you’ve come,” he said, folding his hands on the desk. “I have a few things to discuss with thee, if I may. My trust in you and your discretion is absolute, my dear, which is why I chose you.”

Uh-oh. “Chose me for what?”

“A sensitive case. And … a sensitive issue I’d like to discuss with you.”

Double uh-oh. “Elder Griffin, I really appreciate it, but I don’t think I’m ready to be Bound again. It’s—”

“Oh, no, no. I apologize. I surely did not mean to make you think ’twould be so strict. No, I merely wanted to discuss something with you of a more—a more personal nature.”

Her brow furrowed. What personal issues could he possibly have to discuss with her? Sure, he liked her. She knew that. Knew she was probably his favorite out of all the Debunkers he worked with. Certainly he’d always been her staunchest supporter.

But they never talked about personal things. Not like that. “Is everything okay, sir?”

“Oh, of course, of course. All is perfectly well.” He gave her a quick smile, then looked down at his hands, the smile fading. “I am certain you know the Grand Elder has decided to step down.”

“Yes. I’m sorry to hear it.” Actually she couldn’t give a fuck. She’d never particularly liked the Grand Elder, always found him far too hale-n-hearty and far too little actual thinking-n-caring. But even she had to admit that his reasons for leaving were sad: the Lamaru—an anti-Church terrorist organization—had murdered his daughter and sent one of their own people in with the strongest glamour anyone had ever seen. Strong enough to make the girl look just like his child.

And she’d fooled him. Chess suspected that was what did it—not just that his daughter was dead, but that he’d spent a week with her killer, taking her to dinner, chatting with her in his office, touching her, hugging her. And he hadn’t known.

Hell, if he hadn’t stepped down, Chess would have put decent odds on him being asked to. Not that she knew for sure he hadn’t been. But she kept that thought to herself.

“As am I. But his resignation leaves a spot open, which in turn leaves more spots open. There might be one for me, methinks.”

“You want a promotion?” A trickle of cold she hadn’t expected slid down her back, into her heart.

She’d lose him. On top of everything else she felt slipping away, everything pouring through her fingers no matter how tightly she tried to grasp them, Elder Griffin wanted to leave her.

Intellectually she knew it wasn’t about her. Intellect didn’t slow her panicky pulse.

“I am considering it, yes. I do enjoy my position. I enjoy working with you—all of you.” His eyes lingered on her face just long enough to make her feel the emphasis on “you.” Just long enough to make her feel special. And just long enough for her to start mourning the loss of that feeling.

“But I would also enjoy moving up. Perhaps to a position with a larger responsibility. And a higher income.”

She gave him the best smile she could; her face felt like plastic. “Sure, of course. That makes sense.”

He sighed. “I hoped you would think so, I very much hoped. I do not know how much support there would be for me in that endeavor. Many Elders are interested, of course. But I do not think of putting my name in to be the Grand Elder. I would never presume. I simply thought, perhaps a Resident Elder, or a High Elder … perhaps a Master in the schools.”

“I think you’d be great at any of those,” she managed. He would be, too.

“Thank you. You see, Cesaria, part of the process is to give the Elder Triumvirate the name of at least one departmental employee over whom I have direct authority, so they can question you and make sure I am effective in my position, that I uphold the Truth and the laws—I am sure thou knowst the sort of thing of which I speak.

“Certainly of all the Debunkers your record is the most impressive, but I would also hope … I believe that—I have always believed in your skills, Cesaria, and I believe you have always trusted me, and mine. Your recommendation would be … meaningful to me.”

He cleared his throat. Before she could respond—before she could even think of a response—he continued. “You see, I have another person to concern myself with these days. I have … met someone, and we plan to be married.”

“Wow, that’s—Congratulations.” This just kept getting better, didn’t it. Well, no, that wasn’t fair. She was happy for him, she honestly was. How the hell could she not be? She wasn’t that selfish.

She’d just never thought of him as being a man with a personal life. A romance life. She couldn’t picture him out on the town, having a few drinks and meeting people, or home with street clothes on instead of his Church suit and stockings, with sneakers or something instead of his formal buckle shoes. Elder Griffin Casual was just not an image she could conjure, no matter how hard she tried. She might as well try to picture him in a clown suit.

His blush showed faintly through the light everyday white powder he wore. “Perhaps you’ll meet him? Methinks he would very much like that. Of course I would.”

“Yeah. Um, of course, I’d love to.”

“Excellent.” His eyes caught hers again, held them. “I am glad you feel that way, Cesaria. I admit the thought of working in a different department, of not seeing all of you, is rather painful to me.”

So don’t go, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. Not when he looked so happy, so excited about what his future might hold. That was the way normal people felt when they were trying to move up, when they’d found someone to love who loved them back. Not the way Chess felt, like she was trying to stem an arterial bleed with her fingertip.

But then, normal people didn’t start their relationships by fucking people over, and normal people weren’t convinced that at any moment the person they were with was going to realize how completely worthless they were and run away as fast as they could. Normal people didn’t deserve to have the person they were with run away as fast as they could. So that might make a difference.

“My hope is that you will still feel free to visit me. Assuming I am promoted, which of course is not guaranteed.”

“Of course you will be. And, um, yes, I’d love to visit you.”

“Excellent,” he said again. He cleared his throat, sat up straighter in his chair. Chess could practically see an imaginary dial on his back turning from personal to business.

“I have a case for you.” He opened a drawer in his desk, pulled out a slim manila folder. Yes! Awesome, she could totally use a case. A real one, not chasing air for Bump.

A case would leave her less time for that, but she’d still have enough. Wasn’t like she was the only one looking for the rat, either. Bump and Terrible would probably suss him out within a day or so, and they could all move on. She hoped.

“The decision was made this morning to give the case to you, and I concur with that decision. You know I have always had the deepest belief in your abilities, and your discretion.”

“I know.” Yeah, he had. And now she’d get some different Elder, who didn’t know her, didn’t care. He’d probably hate her; he’d see through her to the filth inside, and he’d know everything, and he’d hate her for it.

“Good. This case was previously given to Aros Burnett.” He looked up at her gasp, the tiny sound she tried not to utter but which slipped out before she could stop it. “Yes. Aros found it … particularly difficult, and he gave it up. Gave up his post in Triumph City as well, as I see you remember.”

Her neck practically creaked as she nodded. Of course she remembered. The halls had barely stopped buzzing about it; it had only been eight or nine days.

“Aros was unable to give us a satisfactory solution. You’ll see his notes in the file. They become rather—jumbled, near the end, I’m afraid. But we feel strongly that you will be able to bring us an answer. We have seen the Fact and Truth of your skill many times. I look forward to seeing your resolution.”

“Thanks.” The file hovered in his hand, just over his desk; she took it and started to open it. “Where is it?”

“Well. That is another reason you were chosen, in truth. ’Tis not too far from your residence. You are familiar with Mercy Lewis Second School? In Downside, on—”

“Twenty-second,” she finished for him, barely noticing her own rudeness as she cut him off. Barely noticing anything except that address, staring at her from the original report in the file. Twenty-second and Foster.

Right in the middle of Slobag’s territory.