Half his face was bruised and so swollen he couldn’t open one eye. He had a bandage across the bridge of his nose, a line of stitches tracking across his shaved skull, and a brace on his neck. His hands were wrapped in bandages, and he wore loose pants and a long coat with only one arm through the sleeve. The other arm was in a sling.

And each of the things holding him together—bandages, stitches, brace, and sling—had the very subtle signature of Dr. Fisher’s handiwork.

No wonder she didn’t have any time for Davy. She’d been trying to stitch this monster back together.

I glanced over at her. She was staring straight ahead, making no eye contact.

Jingo Jingo was followed by two goons who helped him ease down into a chair set to the side at the back of the stage in shadows.

Screw this.

Terric tugged on my wrist again, but I pulled my hand away from him and stood. “Jingo Jingo betrayed the Authority, was part of the mechanism that kidnapped Sedra, and made treasonous deals with Mikhail and my father.”

“Sit down,” Bartholomew commanded. “This is not open for discussion.”

“I don’t care.” I walked down the empty line of chairs and started toward him. “Jingo Jingo is a child molester and should be locked up.”

“Can you prove that accusation?”

No, I couldn’t. All I had was my dad’s word on it and the ghosts of dead children I always saw around him when he cast magic.

“Yes,” I bluffed.

Bartholomew narrowed his eyes. “In times of great need, a person’s past cannot be seen as more important than his present. You have no proof of a crime being committed. Jingo Jingo is the best Death magic user in Portland.”

“You’re wrong. Shamus Flynn is the best Death magic user in Portland.”

He blinked once slowly, then sat back in the chair, a look of complete dismissal on his face. “I disagree. Shamus Flynn had uneven talent and a poor attitude.”

“Did you Close him?” I was below the stage, looking up at him, but close enough I could smell his cologne. Something with heavy spice overtones. It mixed with his sweat and turned sour.

“That hasn’t been necessary. Yet. If you continue to disrupt this proceeding, Allison Beckstrom, we will, however, consider Closing you.”

“Allie.” Terric stepped up behind me and took my arm. “Sit down. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

I turned to tell him exactly how much I cared if I was embarrassing myself.

Listen to him, Dad said. You need information right now. Getting thrown out of this meeting won’t help you, and it won’t help Shame or Victor or Maeve.

Terric’s face was schooled in a calm, pleasant mask. But I could see the fire in his eyes. Looked like he was thinking along the same lines as my dad.

The goons left Jingo Jingo and walked over to me. They stank of him—formaldehyde and licorice.

One of the goons motioned to the audience. The other just waited to see if I’d go back to my seat or stay and cause more trouble. His fingers were spread to cast a spell, probably something that would knock me out.

Hells.

I turned and walked with Terric back to my seat, every eye in the room on me.

Bartholomew waited until both Terric and I were seated. I noted one of the goons made his way up past Terric and me and stood at the back of the room.

“There is one last position open,” Bartholomew continued. “The Voice of Flux magic. This is a very new discipline. It has been proposed that blending magic with technology is not a true discipline. Furthermore, it has been argued that joining magic with technology is a violation of the true purpose of magic, and possibly creates more problems with magic than using it in its natural state.”

Lies, Dad said. Misdirections. Ever since man discovered magic, he’s been finding new and better ways to use it. Our adaptation is our strength.

I got the feeling Dad didn’t think Bartholomew would grant a person the position of Voice of Flux magic. I got the feeling Dad thought Bartholomew wanted to end any mention or legitimacy of the Flux discipline.

What’s his purpose? I asked. To piss us all off?

It was kind of strange. I’d gotten used to my dad having a handle on everything that was happening inside the Authority. Even though I hated him in my mind using my body like some kind of parasite, I had to admit his information—what he would share—had come in handy.

Yes, I knew he was playing his own angles, just like Bartholomew. He wanted magic in the right hands, and dark and light magic joined together. He’d told me that often enough.

It bothered me that he didn’t know what Bartholomew might be planning.

I have been dead for several months, my dad said in a droll tone. I am a little out of touch with certain details.

Bartholomew was talking again. “But I am willing to give this discipline another chance. Now that it is no longer under the stranglehold of Daniel Beckstrom, I believe Flux magic can take magic to new and useful horizons. And the Voice of Flux magic will help us to solve our current unrest and recover those things which have fallen into the wrong hands.

“I grant the position of the Voice of Flux magic to Violet Beckstrom.”

I felt the shock and anger roll through my body like a wave of heat. Some of that emotion was mine. I liked Violet. She was nice, smart, and had just had my one and only sibling. I did not want to see her mixed up in the Authority, especially not when this ass was running the show.

And the rest of the anger, well, that was my dad. He went white-hot in the middle of my head. Supernova. I literally had to close my eyes and take in a deep breath to cool my brain, then exhale to keep control. If he’d had his own body, I was pretty sure he’d be yelling. I’d only ever seen my dad yell once. That hadn’t gone well for the target of his scorn.

When I opened my eyes again, Bartholomew was still onstage, papers neatly stacked between his fingers, staring at me. Daring me to stand up and tell him to shove it. Daring me to make a commotion so he could Close me.

I refused to let him play me.

So I smiled.

It took everything I had, but I did it.

He frowned. That, apparently, was not the reaction he was looking for.

The door opened and Violet walked in. She wore a nice jacket and blouse and slacks, her red hair pulled back in a chignon. Her ruby wire glasses seemed to set her eyes on fire. She looked professional, put together, and ready to take charge.

Only she had no idea what she was walking into.

Kevin Cooper, her bodyguard, who was very much a part of the Authority, walked behind her, just as he was always behind her. He scanned the room. He did not look pleased. No, he looked tense.

Kevin knew exactly what they were walking into.

Bartholomew glanced over at Violet and smiled and nodded to her. Dad, in my head, went very, very still. My head turned—but not of my own volition—to stare at Bartholomew. Only it wasn’t me who was looking at him, it was Dad.

And then the white-hot anger in my mind snuffed out. Leaving behind a cold, hard, dark resolve.

What? I thought to Dad.

He had let go of my head, had stopped looking through my eyes, had retreated back to the cocoon place Victor and Shame had made in my mind to help control him. And then he pulled away even further, digging in deeper, fading until I couldn’t even sense a trace of him.

What the hell? One, I didn’t like that he could hide in my own head that well, and two, I didn’t like that he had suddenly decided to do it.

Bartholomew watched me, and could not hide his flicker of interest, of hunger, as he watched what I would do now that Violet was walking into the room.

What I did was sit back and give him a fuck-you glare.

Violet chose a chair on the outer edge of a row, and Kevin sat in the row behind her. She must not have spotted me in the crowd.

“These appointments begin immediately,” Bartholomew said. “I will meet with the Voices in my chamber in a half hour. Thank you all for your time. The Authority is grateful for your service.”

He stood and, taking the papers, walked down off the stage and out of the room through the door at that end. I was pretty sure it didn’t lead back out into the hall, but into a second room—the one Jingo Jingo had come out of. The one in which he and Melissa had worked the Truth on me.

Two goons took their places on either side of the door.

He’d need more than a few goons to keep himself safe.

I turned to Terric. “Did you know about this? Any of this?”

He shook his head. “I’m just as surprised as you are.”

“He can’t do this, Terric. I won’t let him do this.”

People were getting up, talking, excited. Several were headed our way to talk to Terric.

He leaned toward me, a smile on his face, and gave me a hug, like I’d just congratulated him. “Don’t talk like that. He’ll have you Closed. We’ll talk later. Find Shame.”

And that was all the time he had because then people were there, patting him on the back, excited, smiling. He stood and shook hands, and looked every inch the happy, surprised, humble recipient of a great new position.

I knew that wasn’t how he felt about it. I’d felt his fury. But he knew how to put on the act, put on the face. He stepped out away from his chair, and a small, congratulatory crowd gathered around him.

There was no way he was breaking free from them anytime soon. So I got up and walked over to Violet. She was still sitting and talking to a woman in the chair beside her, but she hadn’t drawn the crowd of fans that Terric had pulled in. Violet was only tangentially involved with the Authority. Dad had worked hard to keep it that way, and to make sure she could develop her technologies, which eventually became his technologies, without the Authority’s oversight.

It had worked well for her. She’d developed the disks that could carry magic in them and gave the user the access to that magic cost- and pain-free. She had been working on developing other technologies before Dad was murdered.

I wasn’t sure what she was currently working on.

It must be something Bartholomew thought was very valuable, if he wanted to keep her under the Authority’s thumb.

Kevin looked up as I came over, and the cool disinterest on his face faded for a moment to reveal a spark of anger before he coughed politely into his fist and put his don’t-give-a-damn back into place.

This was the first time I’d seen Kevin at any of the Authority’s meetings, fights, or get-togethers. He hadn’t even been at Chase’s graveside memorial, come to think of it. Kevin had been flying pretty low, staying under the radar, not taking sides, instead putting his bodyguarding duties for Violet as his top priority. Even over the Authority’s wishes.

I was pretty sure he was in love with Violet. I still didn’t think she knew.

“Hi, Violet,” I said in my best chipper voice.

“Allie, it’s good to see you.” She stood and I gave her a hug, and the woman next to us got up and found someone more interesting to talk to. I had the distinct feeling people were going out of their way not to be seen near me.

Smart of them.

“It’s good to see you too,” I said. “Can we talk? About the business?”

“Sure.” She started toward the door, and Kevin fell into place behind her. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I just have a couple questions.”

We made it to the door and into the hall, Kevin following at a polite distance. I was right. People moved aside as we approached.

I strolled the opposite way of Bartholomew’s retreat. I figured the place was littered with spy spells, and actual people spying on us. Throwing a Mute wouldn’t do much good. It’d just look even more suspicious and gather even more attention. So instead, I just walked a little way, then asked, “Do you understand what position they are giving you?”

“Kevin and I have had long talks. I have a fair understanding of what will be required from me. And,” she added, “the costs involved if I don’t meet those requirements.”

“It’s dangerous,” I said.

“Your father held this position for years.”

“And then it got him killed.”

She stopped walking and turned toward me. “What do you know about his death?”

“Not enough to take it to the police, but enough that I am sure the motives point back to people involved in the Authority.”

“James Hoskil was convicted of killing him,” she said.

“Won’t be the first time the courts have gotten it wrong.”

She frowned.

“Especially if there is a powerful organization, or people, or person who want the courts to get it wrong,” I added.

“Is this accusation enough for me to turn down the position? You have no proof, Allie, and if I align my work more firmly with the Authority, I will have more access to the other disciplines of magic use. Think of what that will mean for developing new technologies. And you’ll benefit from it as well. Beckstrom Enterprises has invested in several of the patents I’m developing to bring to market.”

“I don’t care about the money.” A man walked brusquely past us and headed down the stairs. I waited until he was gone before continuing. “I don’t care about it. What I care about is you and my baby brother. I’ve just watched the Authority make two of my friends pay the price for failing to meet Bartholomew’s requirements.”

She was quiet a moment. “I understand you’re worried,” she said evenly. “And I really appreciate your talking to me about it. But the access to their magical knowledge, new magical knowledge that might be the key for me pressing forward with my designs—” She shook her head.

“I can’t turn it down, Allie. I can’t walk away from that kind of knowledge. But Kevin had his concerns too and I’ve written up a contract that Mr. Wray signed. It specifies what information they can remove if I am ever to be Closed. My memories of working with the Authority and the people of the Authority will be taken, but my research with magic and technology integration will not be. It’s the chance of a lifetime.”

I couldn’t believe that she was calmly weighing the risks and then writing up contracts to outline how exactly someone should give her a lobotomy. That kind of practical, logical, unemotional decision making was beyond me.

“There’s nothing I can say to change your mind?” I asked.

“I can’t see how the risk outweighs the benefits of knowledge.” She took my hand. “And I might just step down after a month or two. But I am going to do this, Allie. Even if it’s just for a short time. I want to.”

“Things weren’t as bad before Bartholomew came into town,” I said trying to give her something. And while that was true, it was also true that things hadn’t been good for the Authority for as long as I’d been involved. “I do not agree with his methods or his decisions. I don’t trust him. At all.”

I wanted to say more, to tell her everything that had happened, that had been happening. But some of what had happened involved my dead dad’s support and help. Violet was a very smart woman. It wouldn’t take her long to start asking me questions, poking holes in the sequence of events. It wouldn’t take her long to begin wondering if my dad was still alive.

And I did not want to put her through that pain again. He was dead-ish. But she had loved him very much. If she knew his soul or whatever, still resided in my head, would she start developing tech to try to house the undead? And what would the Authority do with that kind of technology?

“I will proceed as cautiously as I can.” She smiled. “And really? I don’t think my life will be that much different. I’ll go down to the lab during the day, and spend the rest of my time raising little Daniel.” She started walking. “That’s pretty much how it would be even if I weren’t working with the Authority. It’s all good.”

“I hope it will be,” I said as we walked back toward the meeting room. But I knew, with every stitch of my being, that it wouldn’t.

Violet strolled into the room. I paused in the doorway. As Kevin walked past me, he whispered, “I’ll watch her. You and I need to talk.”

He didn’t pause, just kept walking. I was pretty sure no one would have seen him speaking to me.

A few people headed over to talk with Violet. Terric was still surrounded by a crowd, as was Melissa Whit. Jingo Jingo wasn’t there. I wondered if I could look up where he was staying. Maybe I could go solve the problem that was Jingo Jingo on my own.

I turned and started down the stairs. Maybe Violet and Terric were handling this the right way. Staying calm, being logical. Playing the game Bartholomew wanted to play.

Bartholomew wasn’t a permanent fixture in Portland. He was the Watch for the entire region, so it made sense that someone somewhere would need his attention soon. It was possible Violet was right to think of this as a one- or two-month gig.

My gut told me different. My gut told me this was just the beginning of a very bad thing.