Blood Heir (Aurelia Ryder, #1)(73)

“Ghastek is a lot of things, but he isn’t an idiot. If he has even an inkling of what Namtur is, he wouldn’t have detained him.”

“I honestly don’t think he knows.” Erra shook her head. “None of this is your problem. I just wanted to warn you, so if something happens, you don’t run headfirst into the Casino and get exposed.”

If Namtur started killing the EIN personnel, Kate would get involved. Kate and Ghastek had a complicated relationship. When Grandfather attacked the city to subdue Kate, Ghastek had thrown his lot in with Kate. For a short time, he became her Legatus, the head of the navigators under her banner. When Kate gave up her claim to the city, he had argued against it. I remembered hearing that conversation. He’d actually raised his voice. For some reason, he desperately needed her to remain in power, but she had no interest in ruling anyone or anything. They had had a falling out over it, but Kate considered him a friend. If Namtur caused trouble, she would come to Ghastek’s defense.

That was the last thing I needed. “I’ll go and get him.”

“He can handle himself. He made that mess. He can get himself out of it.”

“Grandmother, he is your blood brother. He can’t be allowed to run around unsupervised in the city with the ma’avirim sniffing all over the place, Ghastek plotting gods know what and me trying to hide. I’ll go and get him right now. He likes me. He will come with me.”

“If you pick him up, you won’t be able to get rid of him.”

“I’ll find him something to do. I love you. I have to go now.”

“I love you, too. Be careful.”

“Always.”





*



Of all the places in Atlanta, the EIN Casino was my least favorite. Cavernous and devoid of windows, the main floor resembled a luxurious cave decorated in rich purple and gold hues and filled with rows and rows of slot machines. Entering through the main gate put you straight in the middle of it. The slot machines, rigged to work during magic or tech, flashed with bright lights and played jarring music, keeping the patrons awake. The people in front of them stared at the screens with vacant eyes, while waiters glided between them, offering alcohol and caffeinated drinks. There was something infantile about the bright lights, oversaturated colors, and treats delivered on demand, and the chaos of it unraveled you, until you lost yourself to ringing tunes and spinning screens and became one of the anonymous gamblers.

I turned left, where two journeywomen in identical purple blouses and black pencil skirts waited behind a marble counter. The path from sensing an undead to becoming a full-fledged navigator and earning the coveted Master of the Dead title was long and took years. Those who embarked on it became journeymen. Most of them never made it.

I flashed my Order ID. “Please let Mr. Stefanoff know that I’m here to pick up Mr. Sakkan.”

When talking to non-Shinar people, Namtur used his title as his last name.

“Please wait,” the shorter journeywoman told me.

I parked myself in the lounge area, a soft shadowy spot, tucked away into an alcove and furnished with overstuffed purple couches. Below the floor, underneath the slot machines, the gamblers, and the gaudy carpet, vampire minds glowed like angry smears of foul magic.

Ugh.

They glowed in my mind, evenly spaced, each undead confined to its own stall in the stables under the building, twenty per column. One, two, three…ten… At least six hundred. Probably more, the dots were beginning to blend in the distance. Kate would’ve known precisely how many. She could also pilot them all at once. I used vampire blood, molded it, and worked with it, but piloting was forever beyond me, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I would not share my mind with one of those things.

A male journeyman in his late teens stopped by me. “The Director will see you now.”

I followed him deeper into the bowels of the Casino.

Director. That was something new. I supposed it went well with their new name, the Eastern Institute of Necromancy. Why Eastern? Was there a Western Institute?

In the next few hours, I needed to get Namtur, somehow convince Nick to stand down, do something with Namtur to keep him occupied and out of trouble, and then go see Mark Rudolph. There were too many fires to put out, and if I didn’t do it fast enough, Moloch’s priests would set the kind of fire I couldn’t deal with.

We reached the back wall and walked through a hallway past a velvet rope, into a wide room ending in a spectacular staircase. Ghastek came down the steps, a tall, gaunt figure in a black suit and charcoal dress shirt. He’d been balding as long as I could remember, but the receding hairline only accentuated his high forehead. His features were narrow, and he looked at the world with piercing dark eyes.

Usually Ghastek wore a turtleneck or a Henley, sometimes a sweater. His clothes were simple, but expensive. He dressed like a busy CEO who had too much on his plate to worry about dressing up. Why the suit? It couldn’t be for me. I was an anonymous Order knight.

His gaze fastened on me. “Ms. Ryder, I presume.”

“Knight Ryder.”

He smiled.

“Did I say something funny?”

“Not at all. You’re too young to get the reference and it would take too long to explain. What’s your relationship to Namtur?”

Direct and to the point. No pleasantries. My disguise was holding. “I don’t have one. I was told to escort him to the chapter.”