“Mmm...” he murmured, rolling her onto her back. Then he lowered his mouth to the pulse point at her throat, tasting it as he whispered. “Sounds like fine dining to me.”
Chapter 6
The blaring lights of Las Vegas came into view long before Guthrie reached Vortigern’s institute, which was located on a more secluded plot of sand west of Vegas.
Given Vortigern’s association with Agro, it was safe to assume his institute was guarded, so Guthrie signaled for his unit to land more than half a mile outside Vortigern’s property. Guthrie could see the institute in the distance, lights flickering in the windows of a sprawling Santa Fe style ranch, and he spotted a few shadowed figures patrolling the land, their concealed auras shimmering under a full moon.
The closest of the figures approached, and Guthrie ordered everyone to stay put as he met the guard halfway. The exchange was short and civil. Then Guthrie patiently waited for Vortigern, who soon flew across the desert with a handful of teenage magicians in tow.
Vortigern eyed the twelve guests as he gracefully landed, his tall frame thinner than most wizards, but what he lacked in muscle, he made up for with his piercing stare – pale-blue and full of mystique. Guthrie had seen that look before, in a soothsayer who’d lasted about a year in Agro’s camp before losing a few fingers due to inaccuracy; it was the wise and wandering gaze of a man who’d been practicing mental magic far too long. The prolonged strain on the brain tended to drive the best of them mad.
“Vortigern,” Guthrie greeted.
“That’s who I am,” Vortigern returned. “Who are you?”
“Guthrie – first lieutenant of the Dark Elite.”
Vortigern subjected the claim to mental evaluation, the way all men of his sort did. Then he looked to Guthrie’s companions. “And what does Agro’s finest want with me?”
“Soothsayers. And we’d appreciate a break within the safety of your compound while we broker a fair deal.”
“Agro doesn’t play fair,” Vortigern laughed, “but only a fool denies the man service. Come on in. We’ll strike our deal over a hot meal. Have you traveled far?”
By the time Guthrie stepped into the largest of the adobe buildings, Vortigern had invited everyone to stay the night, and since Guthrie’s current plan was to sleep under the stars in the middle of the desert, he humbly accepted.
“Your hospitality is warmly received,” he returned, scanning the institute’s modernized interior. They’d gathered in a living room that seemed to double as a lobby. Witches and wizards milled around, the majority of them under thirty, and for the most part, they appeared in good spirits. Only a few wore the expressions of captives, which was exactly what they were – brainwashed girls and boys torn from their homes at an age too young to remember.
“First let’s fill your stomachs,” Vortigern suggested, leading his guests down a corridor. “Then we’ll attend to business.”
The meal was the finest Guthrie had eaten in a long time, and it was served by skimpily clad witches just old enough for him to admire without feeling guilty. When dessert was served, Guthrie caught Lynette’s eye and knew his appraisal of their servers hadn’t gone unnoticed. Not that he gave a shit what Lynette thought. He still wasn’t sure why he’d brought her to Nevada instead of sending her with the soldiers scouring California. It had been a last minute decision, one brought on by those damn eyes, their violet depths a reflection of his fractured soul.
As the dishes were cleared, Vortigern invited everyone to his library for a drink, which eventually turned into a full blown party. Quality booze, potent cannabis, and unrestrained sexuality flowed freely among magicians who’d been denied simple pleasures far too long, and Guthrie kept an eye on things from a comfortable chair in the corner, unwilling to deny his comrades a good time.
Vortigern stayed on the fringes as well, keeping Guthrie’s scotch filled while playing host through commands to his students, all of whom addressed him as Master Vortigern, and some of whom doubled as party favors.
Guthrie had worked out the details of Agro’s order by his second round of drinks; now Vortigern was explicating the theory of negative energy and how it relates to a person’s aura and well-being. Guthrie couldn’t care less, but he gave the impression he was listening as he drowned the lecture in liquor.
Scanning the long room, he found Token getting blown by a witch who had her ass in the air for a second wizard, and it made him think of Lyn, who’d been surprisingly quiet. He searched the sea of faces, but didn’t find her. Three others were missing as well.