“My men understand the importance of this mission,” Caul said. “As should you, if you’ve discovered the power that stone contains.”
“I have,” Mirabilis said. “And if you think I’m going to hand it over to a bunch of sangrimancers—sanctioned by the President or not—you’re sorely mistaken.”
“If I imagined you would hand it over, I wouldn’t have to waste time and men on you, you filthy anarchist!” The sudden intensity of Caul’s rage made his horse sidestep nervously. Clenching his teeth, Caul paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “We have the same enemy, Mirabilis. Temamauhti, the greatest foreign threat this nation has ever faced. The emergence of the stone can only mean that the time is near.”
“Temam-what?” Emily said to Miss Pendennis.
“Temamauhti?” Mirabilis’ voice rose with amused astonishment. “Are you serious? A half-baked doomsday prediction served up by a bunch of Aztec goddess fanatics?”
“Itztlacoliuhqui is gathering strength,” Caul said, leaning forward on his horse. His eyes were terrifying in their mad intensity. “Even if she lays waste to the rest of the world, with the power in that stone, we can keep her from crossing our borders …”
“Let all the nations of the world collapse in wretched misery, as long as Americans get to keep their apple pie.” Mirabilis winked at the women behind him. “Sangrimancer patriotism,” he stage-whispered.
“Clearly, appealing to your patriotism is a waste of my time, Herr Mirabilis,” Caul growled. “I’m sure you’d love to see the United States destroyed. Because you’re like all refugees. You are welcomed as guests, but the fact that you can never be more than that drives you mad. You steep in your bitterness, malcontents collecting like pus in an infected wound … You plot revenge. You foment anarchy.”
“All while paying taxes and supporting a number of charitable causes,” Mirabilis said. “I don’t know where I find the time.”
“Even the President has taken note of your institute’s mongrel admissions policy,” Caul continued. “Jews, Arabs, women … even a Chinaman or two. You may pay taxes, Mirabilis, but you’re no American.”
“I’d ask you to forego the jingoistic claptrap, but it’s terrifyingly obvious you truly believe it.” Mirabilis’ voice was cold. “At least spare me the name-dropping. I may not have the President’s ear, but I have connections of my own.”
“Like Senator Stanton? The man who’s sold his own soul so many times that no one can figure out who actually owns it?”
“I own his son,” Mirabilis said.
“Who is still half a sangrimancer, despite your finest efforts to recast him in your own shoddy mold.”
“He is no such thing.” Mirabilis lifted his chin and spoke with great dignity. “He is a Jefferson Chair of the Mirabilis Institute, and I have great faith in him.”
“F-faith?” The twitch around Caul’s eye was spreading to his neck and shoulders, making him wriggle as if someone had dropped ice down his back. Whatever relief Sergeant Booth’s blood had given him, it was obviously only temporary. “Faith in his m-m-mediocrity, I suppose. He’s a rotten credomancer, Mirabilis. And that’s just how you like it, isn’t it?”
Mirabilis pressed his lips together in a thin white line.
Caul fixed glittering eyes on Emily. “Speaking of Dreadnought Stanton … where is he? There’s so much I’d like to d-discuss with him.”
Emily swallowed hard, her heart thumping alarm. She looked at Mirabilis, but the expression on his face did not change. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back and strolled to the edge of the portico terrace. On the wide railing stood several delicate marble urns, each planted with bright flowers. He ran a negligent finger along the rim of one of the urns, bent slowly, and sniffed appreciatively. When he straightened, his lips were curved in a lazy, self-satisfied smirk that even Emily found incredibly provoking.
“I confess, I find it difficult to feel very worried about Mr. Stanton’s welfare,” he drawled, “given that you and your boys can’t even knock down my dainty little pansies.”
“P-p-pansies?” Caul bared his teeth in a horrible grimace, his body clenching in on itself with rage. It took him some time to master himself, long enough that Emily worried that he might call for another sergeant. But finally he straightened. Emily could hear him breathing fast and hard, as if in pain.
“I’m well aware you’ve spent the past decade making your institute strong. S-strong on that mountebank trash you sh-shovel down the throats of gullible Americans. But I will crack you, Mirabilis. I will shatter you. The attacks will continue until we have what