Deathstalker 07 - Deathstalker Return
our voice to them in all things, and theirs to us. But never forget, Durandal: you are our figurehead, nothing more. Our human face in the human world. And everything you do is but an extension of our will; everything you think you own is really ours by proxy. We allow you a certain autonomy because it suits our purposes, but in the end… we own you."
"You keep on thinking that," Finn said generously. "And we'll all see what the future brings."
"The Terror," said the Shatter Freak in a child's voice. "The future brings the Terror. Devastation and horror and planets burning in the dark. The death of Princes and of Kings are always marked by great events."
They all waited, but he had nothing else to say. His features slipped back and forth like melting wax on his face, young and old and young again, and he mumbled and muttered like an old man in his dotage.
The rest of the meeting was really nothing more than an extended squabble over what, if anything, the uber-espers should do about the coming of the Terror. Emma decided she'd heard enough. She signaled silently to Nina, and the two of them quickly and carefully wriggled back away from the metal grille. Nina shut down her camera to save power, and they slowly made their way back down the narrow stone corridor. Emma frowned harshly, thinking hard. Now that she had her evidence of Finn's guilt and collaboration with the uber-espers, who could she safely present it to? The King was a broken force, Parliament was corrupt and at odds with itself, and the one man she would have trusted implicitly, the Deathstalker, was outlawed. And she couldn't just give the recording to the media, even if she could find a station Finn didn't directly or indirectly control. She needed someone to support her, to give the evidence authenticity. Only one name suggested itself… and even then, making contact would be difficult.
Emma frowned so hard her forehead hurt, and quietly followed Nina back to the surface—and sanity.
Finn Durandal was hardly back at his desk in his office in the House, when he had a delightful if unexpected visitor. He smiled charmingly and came out from behind his desk to kiss the proffered hand of Treasure Mackenzie, famous and beautiful star of vid soap The Quality. Treasure allowed him to. She was dressed for business, in a formfitting gown of midnight blue, cut low at the front to reveal plenty of cleavage, and cut high at the sides to reveal even more thigh. Her great mane of silver hair had little pink bows tied in it, and her black stiletto shoes had heels high enough and sharp enough to be classified as deadly weapons. She looked stunning, but then, she always did. That was her job. Finn saw her comfortably settled in the visitor's chair, and then sat down behind his desk again.
"So, Treasure, this is a pleasant if somewhat unexpected honor. What can I do for you? Is there some problem with the plans for the Royal Wedding? I'm afraid I don't really handle such matters myself, but…"
"Cut the crap, Durandal," said the woman who wasn't really Treasure Mackenzie. "There's no audience here, so neither of us has to pretend. And if you've got the good sense God gave you when you were born, you'll turn off all the recording devices you've got hidden in this room."
Finn regarded her thoughtfully for a long moment, and then pressed a hidden stud on the floor with his foot. "So," he murmured, "all masks are off, are they, Frankie?"
The gorgeous woman with the suddenly harsh face leaned back in her chair and smiled unpleasantly.
"You do know. We weren't sure, but given that you've infiltrated or suborned so many other supposedly secret societies, I suppose it was inevitable that you'd have someone in the Hellfire Club. But we know things too. We know that your precious James Campbell is just a clone. And we can prove it, if we have to. Dear du Katt is one of us, and has been for some time now."
"I can see I'm going to have to have a serious little talk with dear du Katt," said Finn. "Still, it pleases me that the Hellfire Club has finally come to talk with me. You are almost the last unaligned power in the Empire. But you must know you can't afford to stand alone any longer. Great things are happening, the whole character of the Empire is changing… and if you're not part of the process you must expect to be left behind."
"Funny," said Frankie. "We were thinking the same thing about you. You've stretched yourself too far, Durandal. You're trying to
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