Chapter 44

TOBIAS

I takecare what questions I ask Art, unsure how much the person I supposedly am would know about his specific operations. As with Natalie, I pull what I can from his mind as he speaks, but I"ve a thicker sludge to wade through. Art"s heart beats slower too, and the vamp smells faintly of the new scent Andrei has—a sweetness hard to describe; one that touches your tongue.

Art contains the blood.

Still, I"m capable of navigating inside Art"s head, although few others would possess the skill to push through. If Art notices my intrusion, I"ll use the excuse that leadership requested I check up on him. I mentally flick away any suspicion Art has, but the guy already believes I am who I say due to the power in my aura.

I"m constantly confused why nobody knows our group"s names or appearance. Art doesn"t recognise me, but I"m not stupid enough to give my real name. I won"t unless I walk away leaving behind an incident I want attaching to my name.

"What are our numbers currently?" I ask.

"Same as when I updated you lot two days ago," he says stiffly. "We can"t work any faster."

"Are you remaining hemia focused?"

I make the request in a way that Art isn"t sure which answer would please me. Was he instructed to recruit less or find more?

"Witches are trickier. Tell the boss we"re doing our best, but finding and persuading those with the right magical mix takes longer than reeling in a hemia." He straightens. "Gabriella can"t expect a large number by Friday. If she wants witch numbers to match hemia, she"ll need to be patient. I don"t understand her rush."

"Perhaps Confederacy are closer than we"d like?" I suggest and watch for his reaction.

"What?" he asks sharply. "You"re supposed to have that situation in hand."

No mention of the First.

Of us.

I wave a hand. "You"ve built enough protection inside the catacombs against infiltrators, I hope?"

"As much as we can. But we"re unsure how many troops the Confederacy bastards amassed. If they discover Gabriella"s plans, Confeds could arrive in force."

I bare my teeth and place both hands on the table, throwing out a bolt of furious energy. "And how would the Confederacy discover our plans? Because you"ll lose more than your position here if we"re infiltrated."

"Nobody knows the plans because you don"t fucking tell us!" he protests. "If word gets out to our enemies, that leak comes from your level." Art ends with a snarl.

"And on Friday?" I step back and cross my arms. "Are your plans fully in place? If you fuck this up, Gabriella won"t be kind."

"Not fully," he retorts. "Because you haven"t given the exact location yet." He taps an envelope on his desk. "I thought you'd given me the location, but a coded address isn't any use without knowing the bloody the code. Is that why you"re here? Final instructions?"

I could shout in frustration; the one piece of information I need the most and the man only has half a clue. One of us needs to find what's inside that envelope.

"We always code classified information. Somebody will arrive with the answer the night before," I say. "In case of slip-ups."

"I don"t like your fucking tone," snaps Art. "I hold this position because I"m fully trusted. Part of Gabriella"s closest circle."

I doubt that you are if you"ve no idea you"re looking at Tobias Whitlock.

But this conversation has yielded one crucial answer. Gabriella isn"t in the catacombs if she sends envoys from a different location.

"Are the dragons causing any issues?" I ask.

Art looks at Ash and says pointedly, "They don"t come here."

For the first time in this chat, I tense. "We"re watched by rivals, and my boss doesn"t want to lead anyone to the catacombs. You"re not the only thing hidden here," says Ash gruffly. "But you know that."

"Oh yeah. Your precious goods in storage because you"ve no space left in those massive warehouses you own," scoffs Art, then holds his hands up at Ash"s low snarl. "Not my business."

"But our most precious cargo of all isn"t here," Ash says.

"Huh? It is if you have a nest of vamps guarding the catacombs."

"Special cargo bound for Europe?" presses Ash.

Gabriella.

"Oh." Art"s face spreads into a smile. "Yeah, watch the Confederacy sniff out that. You"ll assign some of our new kids to be ready and waiting, right?"

"Yes. The ones not needed for the ritual the same night," I reply.

Art chuckles conspiratorially. "We"ll show the dumb bastards who has the power in this world. Especially after Friday."

"And fewer casualties for us—Confederacy troops don"t have the blood." I smirk at him.

"Or our new weapons." He grins. "Taking down a few low levels at the docks is nothing compared to what we"ll use to hit at the heart of the bastards."

Art"s eyes shine, the vamp now lost in his zealous thoughts, picturing invasion points—Ravenhold Academy, the Confederacy council enclave, other Nightworld Academies overseas.

But something in those thoughts makes no sense. Art speaks of an army with an advantage over their enemies. Assembling recruits to "hit at the heart of the bastards".

So why are there less than a dozen people at every location in his mind?

I could spend hours scouring Art"s head, but there"s not a glimmer of knowledge. He supplies the Dominion with those he"s instructed to recruit and nothing more, just a lackey who thinks he"s important because Gabriella gave him the blood.

I"m pissed off this visit to the catacombs yielded less than we wanted. Art"s superiors told him the day of the ritual, but not precisely where—or what will happen to the people who"re currently in the catacombs.