Black London 05 - Soul Trade

“But no, I have a proper name.” She turned Pete’s palm over, caressing it with her fingers, and a hot pain seized Pete, making her gasp and grit her teeth. After a moment, the geas crawled up through the layers of her skin and into Morwenna’s flesh, where it vanished.
    “There,” Morwennasaid. “I’m a woman of my word. Are you a woman of yours?”
    Pete regarded her. The Prometheans were rough in their methods, it was true, but her choice was to listen to Morwenna’s spiel or get trapped in here again. And there was Jack to consider, who’d undoubtedly do something boneheaded and guaranteed to slag off the Prometheans if left to his own devices.
    So she smiled, and nodded, and toldMorwenna, “I always am.”
    “I’m relieved to know that,” Morwenna. “Come with me, then. We’ve a lot to talk about.”

 
    9.
    As Pete walked with Morwenna, halls straightened and doors appeared. When the two women reached a set of stairs, they behaved as they should, and Pete let out a deep breath when the pressure of the Black against her mind and body eased. Morwenna favored her with an amused glance. “Sorry about the hex. It’s for everyone’s protection.”
    “If you want to protect your floors from puke, you mightreconsider that one,” Pete muttered.
    “We’re very proud of it,” Morwenna said. “The illusion will go on forever if you’re not welcome here. Why have cameras and thugs when you have magic? Anyone we don’t want to come in, or to leave…” She spread her hands. “They’re stuck in the loop, forever.”
    Pete shivered, which Morwenna clearly mistook for awe. “I think it stands as a testament to the powerof the Prometheans—each of us contributing our talent to keep our most sacred space safe.”
    On the main floor, she led Pete into a music room hung with musty silk drapes. A piano sat dust-covered in one corner, and an assortment of staring, stony-eyed mages sat on an assortment of sofas, all their glares trained on Pete.
    The one bright spot was Jack, slumped against the arm of the nearest sofa,holding a glass of scotch as if he wanted to choke the life out of it.
    “You see why I didn’t want to come here?” he asked Pete. Morwenna went to a side table set with bottles and plates of tiny desserts and poured her own tumbler.
    “You didn’t have to convince me,” she said. “Only here because they tricked me.”
    The man Morwenna had identified as Victor grunted.
    “Why are we pretending this isa dinner party? Morwenna, did you speak to her about Preston?”
    “I’m getting to it,” Morwenna said, in a tone that could have formed ice across the top of her drink. “Miss Caldecott and Mr. Winter are not suspects that you are interrogating for the FSB, Victor. We do things differently here.”
    Victor glared at Pete and Jack in turn, but he retreated to the table of food and sank his teeth intoan apple tart. Pete kept her eyes on Morwenna, but she didn’t forget about Victor. He was definitely the one in the duo familiar with violence.
    “How much do you both know about the Prometheus Club?” Morwenna asked, and Jack snorted.
    “Is this where you tell the origin story and we get all wide-eyed and slack-jawed?”
    “You know something, Mr. Winter,” Morwenna said, fixing him with a glare. “Ifyou’d just joined with us the first time we approached you, all of this would be far easier to explain.”
    “First time?” Pete’s stomach dropped. Then again, she didn’t know why she was so surprised. Jack wasn’t forthcoming about anything in his youth—why should he throw out the small detail that the Prometheans had approached him before?
    If you must go, don’t take the crow-mage with you.
    “Dammit,Jack,” Pete mumbled so only she could hear. Morwenna and Jack were still engaged in a staring contest.
    “We would have loved to have had Jack from the start, when he first came into his talent,” Morwenna said. “But as it turns out, good things come to those who wait, because we were able to access Miss Caldecott as well.”
    Pete gritted her teeth and pointed at Morwenna. “You. Stop talking aboutme like I’m a piece of fucking furniture. You.” She turned her finger on Jack. It shook a bit, the anger coursing through her like a fever. “How could you not tell me? I asked you, Jack, and you lied. To my face. That’s low even for you.”
    “Luv,” Jack said, holding up his hand. “Listen, I was fifteen, and my answer to them’s going to be the