As Guthrie made his way toward Agro’s tent, a soldier named Wesley approached and fell into step beside him.
“Wes,” Guthrie greeted. “How’s it going?”
“The boss has been oddly quiet,” Wesley reported. “Like the calm before the storm.”
“No deaths?”
“I didn’t say that. Soldiers have been trickling in, and a few of them couldn’t keep their mouths shut during inspection. He also ordered the disposal of the wounded.”
Guthrie halted and turned. “He what?”
“The first night you were gone,” Wesley explained. “We were keeping about a dozen soldiers sedated until we could get a better healer in here. One of them started raising hell when we woke him for dinner, so Agro ordered us to put them all out of their misery.”
Guthrie sighed as he pulled Silestra from his cloak and laid her in the leaves. “Have you found a better healer in the newcomers?”
“Two,” Wesley answered, “or so they say. After Agro’s mass euthanasia, they have no way to prove it.”
Guthrie walked backward toward Agro’s tent as he finished the conversation. “I’m expecting more soldiers. They should be here by tomorrow. Question them as they come in then bring me a list of everyone who claims to be exceptional healers. I want to make sure they’re not cowards trying to escape the front lines. Oh, and get me a list of all the bonded children.”
“Yes, sir,” Wesley agreed, taking off in the opposite direction.
Guthrie turned and picked up the pace. Then he paused at the entrance of Agro’s tent, composing himself before going in. The chamber was dark, but Agro was awake and sitting on his throne, his elbow on the armrest and his chin on his knuckles.
“You were born for your position,” he greeted. “You have yet to fail me.”
His voice was calm, and his body was relaxed, but his aura was a tumultuous mess, as was his tent.
Stepping over a broken goblet and a torn dress, Guthrie moved closer and bowed his head. “I live to serve.”
“So it would seem. Do you have soldiers for me to inspect?”
“Yes, sir, and there are more on the way.”
“What about my soothsayers?”
“Vortigern says they’re the best he had on hand.”
“Vortigern’s scum and would lie to his own mother, but when you deal in dark matters, you must tolerate shady dealers.” Flipping on the lights, Agro stood and summoned a glass of wine. Then he handed it to Guthrie and nodded toward a chair. “Sit.”
Guthrie did as he was told, sipping as he slid his gaze across the illuminated room. Everything was out of order, and the thick crimson rug told the story of Agro’s pacing, a faded river of bare threads winding through the Persian design.
“Do you remember your first kill?” Agro asked.
Guthrie looked up, wondering why the boss was getting so personal. Maybe he was that way with all his lieutenants. “Sure,” Guthrie answered. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Still following the threadbare trail across his rug, Agro stared off into space. “I don’t remember mine. I was only one, barely walking, or so I hear. I smothered an infant. Whether by accident or on purpose, nobody knows. They say my mind held no remorse or pity afterward.”
“Who are they?”
“The coven I was born into.” He halted next to a table and shuffled through a drawer, coming out with a pipe and herb. “I do remember my second kill, though, a deliberate murder committed when I was nine.” Turning toward Guthrie, he tucked the stem of the pipe into his lips and touched a flame to the bowl. “What did you feel the first time you committed murder?”
Guthrie’s forehead furrowed. “Sir?”
“Emotions, Guthrie. What kind of emotions? Anger, sadness, relief, guilt?”
“All of the above, I suppose. Sounds like a common line-up.”
Agro kept his gaze on Guthrie as he slowly exhaled smoke. Then he turned away and resumed his pacing. “Maybe, but I didn’t feel any of it.”
That’s because you’re a psychopath. Guthrie cleared his throat and leaned back. “So what did you feel?”
“Have you ever torn the ass off a lightning bug?”
Guthrie stifled a laugh and gave a nod. “I vaguely remember being intrigued by the light.”
“Yes, well that’s how I felt when I opened up my sister.”
A disturbing visual came to mind, but Guthrie hid his repulsion well. “She was your science project.”
“Not really. I didn’t kill her in a quest for answers, but I found the entire process intriguing – the idea, the plan, the execution, even the stillness that swept through the air when her aura disappeared and she stopped breathing. None of it felt unnatural.”