Brandel’s anger stirred the fog. Damn but he hated the interfering, busybody of a demon.
“Not only an Oracle, but the Queen Bitch herself.”
“Queen?” Raith asked. “I thought the Commission was a democracy?”
“So they claim. We each have a vote, but the majority of the Oracles have allowed themselves to be castrated by their fear of Siljar.” There was another stirring of the fog. “They have become nothing more than a committee of ass-kissers.”
“And you would prefer that they kiss your ass?”
Of course he did.
He’d always lusted for power, but more than that, he lusted for the respect and admiration of others.
Someday, he silently promised himself.
But not today.
“I would prefer that she would bring an end to our tedious gathering,” he answered. The Oracles had been called during the King of Vampires’ battle with the King of Weres, but as one disaster had followed another, they’d been forced to remain and contain the damage. “So long as we’re stuck in these caves my every move is being monitored.”
Raith frowned. “Do you think she is suspicious?”
“Of course not,” Brandel swiftly denied. “She is merely drunk on her own power.”
“You had better pray to our god you are right. We both have much to lose if we are discovered.”
Dammit. Brandel didn’t need to be told what they risked.
“You take care of your end of the business and I’ll take care of mine,” he snapped, mind to mind.
“Very well. Your end of the business is tracking the spell and determining if it is a threat to us,” Raith swiftly countered, faint vibrations humming in the air. “Understood?”
Did he have a choice?
“Yes.”
Raith chuckled. “I always enjoy our little chats.”
Roke frowned as Sally paced the small bedroom, her movements jerky and her face paler than normal.
It wasn’t unusual for her to be agitated when he was around.
They’d been striking sparks off one another from the beginning.
In more ways than one.
But this was more . . .
He could sense a true fear that she was desperately trying to hide behind a pretense of anger.
“Why are you being so stubborn?” he at last demanded.
She halted, her glare shifting to the box he held in his hands.
“We don’t even know if this box has anything to do with me or my father.”
“Do you have a better lead to follow?”
Her lips tightened. “No.”