Heat of the Night

Chapter 16

Philip Wager stared at the data on the screen with wide eyes, his heart thumping in a desperate, frantic tempo. His fingers clung to the edge of the console with white-knuckled force and he forced himself to release his grip. He pushed the chair back and rose to his feet.

"Fuck," he whispered, his brain scrambling to comprehend the information in front of him. "That's impossible."

"Obviously not," murmured a voice behind him.

He spun and faced his visitor, wincing inwardly at the sight of the man who stood there. His glaive was out of reach behind him, leaving him completely vulnerable to the tip of the blade leveled at his chest. "Elder Sheron," he replied, glancing over the gray-robed shoulder to the cavern hallway beyond. He searched for both a means of entry and a source of assistance. Neither was readily visible.

"Wager," Sheron greeted in a conversational tone.

"How did you get in here?"

"I can gain entry to anywhere. I had no part in the building of the Twilight, but every upgrade and enhancement made to the matrix in the last several centuries came from me."

Philip's heart stuttered as he considered the value of such knowledge.

"I can see you appreciate the possibilities." Sheron's voice was filled with a mentor's pride. "Most of the Elders chose to concentrate their attentions on making rules. They believe that is the source of our authority. I, however, knew our true power came from our ability to create the Twilight. Therefore, I wanted to know everything about it. It was considered the least desirable of tasks, so I was free to do as I wished."

"You planted the bug." There were hundreds of questions in Philip's mind, but he knew the answer to that query for a certainty.

"Yes, and I always knew you would be the one who would dig deep enough to find it. I tried to have you eliminated, but the others would not hear of it. They did not know my reasons, you see. They felt denying you advancement was punishment enough for your perceived offenses, which I exaggerated, of course." The Elder waved one hand dismissively. "Since you did not have access to the equipment required to find me out, I let it go. But I was aware that someday it would come to this."

"What are you doing?" Philip asked, backing toward his glaive, which rested in its scabbard atop a table in the corner. "You must have been planning this for centuries."

Sheron reached up and pushed back his cowl, revealing a chilling smile. "Yes. I have. Which is why I cannot allow you to ruin everything. All these eons of biding my time, moving my pieces across the board slowly but surely. Can you imagine how much patience has been required? I am so close now. But you could ruin everything in a moment."

"Explain to me what you're up to," Philip coaxed, still retreating, hoping to get near enough to his glaive to lunge for it and defend himself. "I can help you."

"You assume my motives are altruistic and you would want to help me. Or perhaps you are simply hoping to distract me from noticing how you move toward your weapon."

Philip stilled and shrugged. Sheron laughed.

"If it consoles you any," the Elder said, "your sacrifice will serve the greater good."

"Oh really?" Philip drawled. "And here I thought you just wanted to prevent me from telling anyone you have a half-mortal daughter."

"There is that, too. There are only two people who know, and that is one person too many."

"She is partnered with a Guardian." Perhaps his mind was more devious, but for Philip, the possibilities inherent in that mating were both plentiful and terrifying. "Was that your intent all along?"

Sheron gripped his glaive more securely. "My apologies, lieutenant. Time is of the essence. I must kill you now. I cannot stay and chat."

Philip crouched, prepared.

The Elder thrust forward in a fatal lunge.