the room, I think.”
I looked around, the remaining people standing and sitting at the other tables: Kevin Cooper, Violet’s bodyguard; Sunny, whose demeanor was the exact opposite of her name; Ethan Katz, who was my dad’s and now my accountant; the twins Carl and La, whom I’d seen briefly at my test; the ex-quarterback-looking dude whom I’d also seen briefly at my test; and a few other suits—two women and a man—board members from Beckstrom Enterprises I’d met over the last couple weeks. The rest of the people I’d seen off and on at Maeve’s, but hadn’t been officially introduced to.
“Pretty much,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “Now, about that beer.”
“If I could please have your attention.”
I glanced at the front of the room. Victor, trim and gray-haired, stood behind the long table, an open laptop in front of him. His suit jacket hung on the back of the chair, along with his tie, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbow. Even from this distance, I could see that his eyes were bloodshot. He looked like he’d just been through the longest meeting of his life, and been elected to stand up and give everyone the bad news.
Maeve, looking more composed and refreshed than Victor, sat to his left. Next to her was Liddy Salberg, a quiet, mousy woman, who took plain to the extreme. I’d first seen her at my dad’s burial. She’d also been at my test, and she’d since been my teacher in Death magic. I never seemed to get a good read off her body language. That mousy exterior hid something else—I was sure of it—though I’d never seen her be anything but polite and professional.
Still, I got the impression that she didn’t like me, or that I made her nervous.
At her left was Sedra, the head of the Authority in Portland. Always cool, always portrait-perfect, her unchanging expression and porcelain complexion made her look like she was carved out of marble. Only her blue eyes gave her a hint of life. Her bodyguard, Dane Lannister, stood behind her, looking how he always looked: relaxed and deadly. There was something about him that made me pause, like a bad taste in my mouth, but try as I might, I couldn’t think of what it was about him that bothered me.
Instead, I wondered who usually filled the empty seat next to Sedra, wondered if perhaps it had been my father.
Interestingly, Jingo Jingo, who usually made himself a part of any gathering, was nowhere to be seen.
Weird.
“Please be seated, so we may begin,” Victor said.
Everyone made their way to seats, filling the tables ahead of us, and behind us.
“Please, please, please,” Shame whispered so quietly, I wasn’t sure if he said it or I imagined he did.
Zay and Terric walked toward us, a study in opposites, and yet both powerful, calm, confident. Terric angled to take the seat next to Paige. Zay sat next to me, shifting his chair so he could better see the front of the room.
“Exhale before your head explodes,” Zay said quietly. “He’s not coming to the table.”
Shame exhaled.
Victor began speaking. “As many of you have heard, we have an unprecedented warning that a wild-magic storm will be hitting the Portland area soon. We think it will strike within the next forty-eight hours. That gives us some time to coordinate our efforts and work together against this threat.”
He paused, taking the time to make some eye contact. I’d seen my dad do that when he was facing a hostile audience. While Victor did that, I glanced at the body language within my range of sight.
Tight. Pensive. Maybe not explosive but damn close. Pretty much the same as when I’d walked in.
I’d already figured that these people were secretive and suspicious. But until this moment, I hadn’t realized that these people barely tolerated one another.
Neat.
That brewing war? I’d put my bet on the table that it was done brewing. All it needed now was a spark to set it off.
My stomach clenched as I realized the war might already be on, and lines might already be drawn as to who should use magic, and how it should be used. And I had no idea who wanted what, nor whose side I was on.
I reached back in my head to see if Dad had something to say about all this, but he had been quiet as a corpse—ha, not funny—ever since I walked through that door.
I had the feeling he didn’t much want to