“The ancient amulets were forged at the same time the Veil was created.” Siljar folded her hands in front of her, giving the impression of a very small history professor. “Long before you were asked to lead your people through the barrier.”
Nefri stiffened in surprise. “But . . .”
“Yes?”
“Gaius claimed his amulet was made by the Dark Lord,” she explained.
Siljar snorted. “Pompous douche.”
Nefri blinked. Pompous douche? Those weren’t words she expected to hear from a mighty Oracle.
“The Dark Lord?” she asked, cautiously.
“Of course.” Siljar peeled back her lips to reveal the razor sharp teeth. “The nasty creature was very skillful in destroying things, but he had no talent for creation.”
Yes, that made sense. The Dark Lord had been worshipped as a god, but never as a creator. Something she should have realized herself, she acknowledged with a pang of annoyance.
“Then how did he get it?”
“He stole it during the time we were finishing the Veil.”
Nefri’s brows lifted at the reluctant confession. Stealing from the Oracles seemed . . . suicidal. “How was that possible?”
Siljar shrugged. “We were distracted. Constructing the Veil took all our combined efforts and still we nearly failed. In fact . . .”
“In fact?”
Siljar gave a sharp shake of her head. “Nothing.”
Nefri knew damned well it wasn’t “nothing.” But she also knew that “nothing” could force Siljar to share if she didn’t want to.
“Why didn’t the Dark Lord keep it?” she instead demanded.
“The prophecy of his banishment had already been spoken,” Siljar said. “I think he hoped he would be able to reach the medallion from his prison and use it to bring an end to the dimensions between worlds. So he imbued it with his essence and hid it beyond the Veil.”
Ah. It would, of course, be the perfect hiding place. Unfortunately for the Dark Lord, it was also the most difficult to penetrate.
“So when he couldn’t reach it, he instead manipulated Gaius into stealing it for him.”
“Yes. And when the Dark Lord was destroyed the medallion was left empty, ready to be filled by another power.”
Another power.
The power that was never spoken of.
The power that scared even the Oracles.
“What can I do?”
“The simplest solution would be to question Gaius ourselves.”
Nefri held up the newspaper. “You know where he is. Why don’t you just go get him?”
Siljar shrugged. “That’s why you were called.”
Nefri frowned. “You requested I leave my people so I could travel to Louisiana and ask Gaius if his medallion has been hijacked by a strange spirit?”
“The Commission is . . . occupied with other matters at the moment.” Siljar tilted her head, looking like an inquisitive bird. “If you hurry you should be able to tend to this task within a few nights.”
Just . . . perfect.
Nefri hid her stab of annoyance. She didn’t want to be in this world. Not when she was still raw and unsettled from her last visit.
But she wasn’t idiotic enough to be fooled by Siljar’s polite pretense. This wasn’t a request.
“So you just want me to question him?”
“No. He must be brought to us. We will do the questioning.” Nefri nodded. At least she didn’t have to kill him. It was always difficult when she had to deal death to one of her clansmen.
“I will do my best.”
Siljar suddenly widened her eyes in a poor attempt at innocence and said, “Oh, perhaps I should warn you.”
Nefri stilled, her predator instincts on full alert. “What?”
“The vampires know that Gaius survived.”
“And?”
“I told Styx to keep his meddling nose out of Commission business.”
She hid her hands behind her back so Siljar couldn’t see she was clenching them in frustration.
“Which, of course, was the perfect guarantee to make sure he meddles,” she murmured softly.
“Naturally.”
Nefri didn’t miss the hint of satisfaction in her companion’s voice. “What is it that you’re not telling me?”
“In good time.”
“Siljar.”
Intent on discovering what disaster she was being forced to walk into, Nefri nearly lost her legendary calm when two small shapes abruptly appeared directly beside her.
Good . . . lord. There’d been no shift in air pressure that would warn of an opening portal, or a prickle of heat that usually went along with magic.
Just two creatures stepping out of thin air.
Taking an instinctive step back, Nefri assessed the danger of the intruders. One was obviously related to Siljar. Actually, she was nearly a replica with the same heart-shaped face and large black eyes. Only her hair was blond rather than silver and her eyes lacked the solemn wisdom of