Nataraja looked at me, slightly amused by my presence on his home turf. Olive-skinned and slight in build, he radiated power the way some men radiate strength. His hair, coal black and straight, framed an angular face, with a wide, high forehead, prominent cheekbones, and a weak chin, hidden by a carefully cut, ultra-short beard. His eyes, very dark and piercing, had a magnetic effect. When he stared, he appeared to look deep inside you, discovering the hidden thoughts and secreted ideas and taking them for his own. His gaze made it nearly impossible to lie to him. I still managed.
Wiggles hissed as I crossed the floor toward the throne. She fixed me with her empty hateful eyes and smelled the air, her long tongue shivering through the slit of the lipless mouth. Nice to see you too, sweetheart. Remember my cattle prod?
Rowena strode to the snake, her hand settling on the huge triangular head. Weighing nearly two hundred pounds, Wiggles could not be picked up and carried away, and snakes cannot be trained, since most of the time they assume that humans are warm walking trees. Wiggles, however, was a freak born of magic and genetic manipulation. She was still dumb by mammalian standards, but she knew that a hand on her head meant pain if she moved, so she settled into long languid coils at Rowena’s feet.
Nataraja’s voice came like a whisper of scales on rough stone. “Kate.”
“Nate.”
He grimaced. “I’m not in the mood to be disrespected.”
“No wonder. It’s quite late for a man of your age. Ever thought about retirement?” You know you will do it and I know you will do it. Let’s get it over with. Test me, you sonovabitch, so I can fight you off once again and then we’ll talk.
His power slammed into me, pressing, pushing me to the floor. His eyes grew into bottomless pits, commanding, all-powerful, sucking me into their awful depth, promising slavery and pain.
I clenched my teeth and held him, trying to shield Derek.
Nataraja pushed harder, his power welling like an avalanche, distorting the world, overwhelming it until nothing was left but his will and mine, locked against each other. A painful shudder pulsed through me. His face twisted and he bit his lip.
“Temper, temper,” I said through my teeth.
“Aren’t mood swings a sign of early senility?” Derek’s strained voice said from beyond.
The awesome pressure ebbed for an instant and I gathered my magic, summoning every reserve I had. Strike against the kid, Nate. Strike so I can kill you.
The pressure fell abruptly and I was hurled back from a long black tunnel into the real world. Nataraja backed off, sensing the danger. Damn it.
I glanced at Derek. His face looked bloodless. His hands clenched into fists.
Nataraja was once again playing an amused host. “I see you brought a pet,” he said. “He talks like you.” One day, his face promised. One day we’ll settle this.
“My bad habits rubbing off.” Any time.
A whisper announced a new arrival. Ghastek came through the arched doors, carrying a briefcase and wearing khaki pants and a black T-neck sweater. He looked so absurd against the backdrop of Nataraja’s vulgar throne room that I almost laughed.
Ghastek nodded to me and came to stand by his master’s throne. Both men were of slight build, but where Nate was slender, Ghastek was thin. A diet of steaks and lots of hours in the weight room could make him lean and sinewy, but I doubted he ever looked at a dumbbell, let alone handled one. He was beginning to bald and the receding hairline added height to his forehead. His face was plain, saved from unremarkable only by dark eyes betraying his intellect and that slight touch of distance particular to people who spend their time immersed in thought.
“Ahh, Ghastek,” Nataraja said as if greeting a favorite pet. “I was just pondering Kate’s new amusement. He would be her . . .”
I indulged him. “Apprentice.”
“Apprentice.” Nataraja rolled the word in his mouth, tasting it. “How modest. Considering his age, it’s actually appropriate, although out of character.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but our relationship is strictly professional.”
Nataraja’s laugh polluted the air. “Of course,” he said, as if humoring a small child. “How insensitive of me.”
I smiled at him. “Indeed. Now that we’ve established that you have appallingly poor taste, would you like a chance to chat with me as a representative of the Order or shall I make my exit?”
“Suddenly you’re all business. Very well.” Nataraja leaned back. “I’m dissatisfied with the direction your investigation has taken you.”
I bared my teeth at him. “I find that amusing. I don’t answer to you.”