“Yes,” Viève said uneasily. Why did it matter to him if the Mysticals in specific were joined? Why not ask about the Phoenixes or some other breed?

“All have joined and we can now see and connect with one another. The curse that separated us has been lifted.”

“Ah. I’m sure our master would be most displeased to hear about that.”

“Master?” Kamen echoed suspiciously.

“Apep,” the Doyen said. “Or so he claims to be. Our master, that is. He says he created our race from the dust of the earth and now we owe all that we are to him. That we are bound to serve him.”

“And will you? Serve him?” Kamen asked, his tone hard.

“I confess I had not decided. I was trying to figure out what would cause the least amount of damage and inconvenience to my people. Do we serve the whims of an egomaniacal lunatic, or do we stand alone against him and his wrath and watch him cut a swath through our numbers. But now here you are presenting me with a third option; to join a rebellion against the god; perhaps defeating him and chasing him from this plane of existence.

“I admit, I find that idea intriguing. But a rebellion will cost lives as well. So, as a leader I must ask myself this: which way will allow for the least loss of Wraith life?” He regarded them a moment. “You really have the Mysticals on board?”

“Why do you keep asking about them?” Viève asked.

“Silence, half-breed!” one of the other Wraiths snapped. Kamen watched her cringe and immediately shrink back. It angered him. Angered him like nothing had angered him since the day Odjit had been put into a coma. But this anger seemed hotter…more pure. He tried to school himself. The last time he had let his temper have free rein, people had been hurt and a god had been unleashed.

But to see her so abused made him burn.

“I will have your answer,” Kamen said recklessly. “We have done as you asked. An honorable man would adhere to his part of the bargain.”

“The flaw in that,” the Doyen said smoothly, “is the assumption that I am an honorable man.”

“He isn’t going to help us,” Viève said in a small whisper.

The Doyen smiled. “On the contrary. I am going to help you. Why, I will send a troop of Wraiths with you right now. How many do you require? A hundred? A thousand?”

Kamen suddenly had a feeling they had been led into a trap. A feeling that the Doyen’s offer was not to be trusted.

“We will contact you with that information,” Kamen lied.

“I insist you let me send some with you now. A small contingent of men. Felix, Darius, and Raymond will accompany you and will send word back to me as to what more is needed,” the Doyen said. He turned to his men and said, “See to it our interests are served well.”

“I cannot bring them all with me,” Kamen said. “I will give you the location of our base of operations and you can join us there.”

The Doyen frowned. “Surely you can take at least one with you?”

“One,” Kamen agreed tightly.

“Excellent. The rest will join you by conventional means. Felix.”

Felix stepped forward, a toothy grin on his long face. “I am ready,” he said.

“Viève, I need to touch him,” Kamen said quietly.

“No,” she whispered.

“Viève, release me from the phase. I’ll be safe, I promise you.”

“Is there a problem, half-breed?” the Doyen asked her.

She quailed. “N-n-no.”

“Well then, let’s get on with it.”

“Touch him only on his clothing,” Viève whispered to him anxiously.

Kamen nodded and she released her phase so that Kamen might reach out and touch the Wraith on his suit jacket. They entered the streak instantaneously.

The moment they exited the streak, Viève yanked him out of contact with the Wraith who, predictably, became sick to his stomach. He vomited in the grass.

They were standing off to the right of the field where the Nightwalkers were running their game, their skills being used to the utmost as each tried to best the other’s side.

Standing on the sidelines, not too far away from them, were Max, Leo, Angelina, and Paulette. Apparently Paulette was not interested in playing the game, but she was watching Grey attend them. Grey was a significant advantage over the opposing team. His magic seemed boundless and he was creative and powerful. He could conjure almost anything he desired. Most recently it had been three suits of armor that fought as though men were inside of them…yet they were empty of anything living.

Viève had a death grip on Kamen, ready to phase him away from the Wraith’s touch if necessary.

“I don’t trust him,” she whispered against his ear.

“Neither do I, but aren’t you the one preaching to everyone about second chances and forgiveness? We must extend trust…until that trust is broken.”

“But at what cost?”

Kamen didn’t respond because the Wraith was recovering, standing up dizzily and taking deep breaths.

“What the fuck was that?” he ground out angrily.

“It’s called a streak. It is not the most pleasant way to travel, but it is the fastest.”

“Go back and bring the two others here as well,” Felix commanded him.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. My magic has limitations and this spell has exhausted me,” Kamen said.

Viève knew it to be a lie. Kamen was more than capable of going back and getting the other Wraiths. She felt relief that they would only have one Wraith to contend with…at least for now. Which was no doubt Kamen’s design.

The Wraith looked around, and took in everything going on around him. He saw Paulette and immediately made a beeline to get to her. Kamen was a half-step behind him. He quickly cast his protection bubble, and then took the man’s arm in hand , pulling him to a stop.

“Allow me to introduce you to everyone,” he said, turning Felix toward the playing field. “Jackson!”

Jackson looked up at his name being called and upon seeing the Wraith immediately left the game. Marissa followed him.

“Jackson, this is Felix. Felix, this is Jackson and Marissa, Pharaohs of the Bodywalkers.”

“Half the Bodywalkers,” Felix said with a derisive snort.

“True,” Jackson said carefully, “we are not united. But every day I hope we will be.”