Bereft: Foretold

38 | A Mage in Black

A moment of stillness swept through the room—then, Lucian sighed into the quiet and broke its hold.

"Theodora Stavros," the man said without ceremony, leaning a hip upon the desk Cage had claimed. "You were not expected."

The woman grinned, but I saw how her eyes slid to Saule, expressing irritation the smaller witch ignored. Saule spotted Mistress Voronin and shoved herself forward, throwing her arms about the other witch as the joyful barking of her mutant mutt followed at her heels. Their reunion rankled in my skin, so I let my attention wander to the other newcomer now standing in the middle of the study. At the back wall, Connie was staring at the floor and refused to meet my gaze. 

"It's nice to see you, Lucian," the witch Theodora replied with a smooth nod. "And you, Marian. How is life outside the coven treating you?"

Marian didn't answer. She touched Lucian's shoulder in a short caress before departing from the room. Theodora watched her leave with a smirk firmly in place and Lucian only exhaled.

"Are you the Mistress of the Circe coven?" I asked without waiting for introductions, as whatever drama was unfolding here wasn't of interest to me. "I take it you're responsible for the lack of mages at the Facility tonight."

"Perhaps. Responsibility is a tricky thing: claiming it can be problematic at times." The woman tapped her nails against her chin. "You're the one who brought the witchling, aren't you? How strange. I thought it was Lucian for a moment when she brought us here at the behest of this one." She indicated Connie with a slight shoulder shrug. So that was what the huntress had been trying to say earlier. "You aren't what you appear, little man." 

"He's the Sin of Pride," Cage interrupted without prelude, and the witch stumbled with the look of a woman struck. "Or was. Or will be. The timeline's a bit hazy on that fact." 

The witch stared, unsure of whether or not to believe the irreverent black mage sifting through the contents of Lucian's desk. He found several curious silver instruments and slipped them into his pockets.

"Your timing is apropos, Mistress Stavros, was it?" Cage slammed a drawer with a loud thump. "We require the assistance of a witch to bind a soul's memories to its incorporeal form. Is that the kind of devious magic you're interested in?"

She regained a semblance of control in the face of Cage's taunting and smoothed her hands down the lines of her black gown. I gathered that the Circe Mistress was not a woman easily flustered. "I'm interested in all forms of devious magic, honey. But I fear the magic you seek is beyond the grasp of a sorceress such as myself."

The man beamed, said "I'm not your honey, coven-breaker," and lost all interest in the Mistress. Again she was startled, and now clearly angry.

What is a coven-breaker? I wondered. I believe the full extent of its implications are lost upon me.

"It requires a slight manipulation of the void, you see," Theodora explained, slowly prowling the room toward the mirrors. In the reflection, the witches appeared as tightly wound clouds, and if they were to abruptly move, the cloud would drag and distort their being. I hadn't seen something like it before, and it was difficult to tear my eyes away, but I managed to do just that as Stavros neared. I circled toward the entrance, keeping distance between us.

"As a sorceress, I'm incapable of achieving the right effect—but why ask me? You've a capable necromancer in your party, after all."

In the corner, Voronin stiffened and Saule gasped as she extracted herself from her Mistress's embrace. "You said you wouldn't tell!" Saule cried, caught between the whims of indignation and fear. I'd known necromancy was frowned upon by covens, but hadn't expected this kind of reaction to its existence. The priestess—necromancer—was looking to her coven leader with wide, pleading eyes, and though Voronin was frowning intensely, she extended a hand and laid it upon Saule's slumped shoulder.