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the more powerful they grew, and the more of that power Lich could channel into his portal. Thus, the more powerful he would become.”

“Then why did my grandfather fight?”

“He saw the fog of wartime as an opportunity to meet with other magic-users in secret. That was how he met Marlow. They compared stories on their experiences. Both of the mentors who had inducted them into the Order had been put to death for one violation or another. Other magic-users shared similar accounts concerning their own mentors. It was there, during the war against the Inquisition, that your grandfather, Marlow, and several others formed a rebellion to defeat Lich. It would take time and resources. Lich had been building his portal for centuries, after all. Several magic-users faked their deaths during the Inquisition, Marlow among them. They came here, to the Refuge, where they discovered Elder books and began the work of stalling Lich’s progress. Following the Inquisition, your grandfather feigned a serious head wound and claimed he’d lost much of his own power. He requested and was granted a release from the Order. Lich had no more use for him. Keeping a low profile, your grandfather worked between worlds, gathering information and resources out there, supplying it to us here.”

I thought about Arnaud’s claim that Grandpa had stolen and stashed magical artifacts during the war. Connell’s version of events seemed to fit that, but suspecting Whisperer magic, I pushed the thought away.

“His daughter eventually took over that role. Your mother.”

“I don’t want to hear anymore,” I said, standing. His account was filling in too many gaps, and doing it too neatly. I could feel my mind beginning to bend to the logic, the magic.

“Are you sure?” Connell asked.

Two automatons entered the room, carrying the clothes I’d arrived in as well as towels and a basin of clean water. They set everything on the foot of my bed and departed silently.

“Tell me this,” I said in challenge. “Since you know so much, how did I end up here?”

I stepped into my boxers and tossed away the gown.

“To answer that, I have to go back to your beginnings. You were born here, beyond Lich’s and Dhuul’s sight. Lich killed your mother without knowing who she was; your grandfather had seen to it that she never joined the Order. You were placed in your grandparents’ care, and through veiling spells, they ensured Lich remained ignorant of your existence.”

I pulled on my shirt. “I thought you said he was a god.”

“A demigod,” Connell corrected me. “And a distractible one, thankfully. Obsession with power does that to a mage. When you turned thirteen, you entered your grandfather’s locked study.”

I turned and looked at him. How did he know that?

“Asmus told us,” he said, reading my expression. “And it concerned him greatly.”

I remembered how Grandpa had pulled me from the closet that night and sliced my finger with the cane sword. I remembered the grave look that had come over his face when I told him how I’d entered, by uttering a Word of Power.

“In order to keep you from Lich’s sight,” Connell continued, “your grandfather suppressed your power with plans to train you in adulthood. That never happened, of course. When he died, there was nothing to hold back your power. It awakened and began to manifest once more. And it manifested of all places in Romania, in the domain of a Third Order magic-user.”

Lazlo, I thought.

“He would have communicated with what he thought was the Order. From there, Lich would have probed your magic and determined who you were—not just the grandson of the late Asmus Croft, but the son of Eve and Marlow. It became his plan to turn you against Marlow, since you would have access to him. But he had to wait until you were powerful enough. The vampire Arnaud sped up that plan by telling you about his encounter with your grandfather regarding your mother.”

They killed her, he’d claimed Grandpa had said. Had Grandpa been talking about Lich and Dhuul? No, I thought firmly. He meant the members of the Front. Stop listening to this man.

I sat to tie my shoes.

“You began looking into your mother’s death, sending inquiries to the Order. Lich became concerned when you attempted to contact a gatekeeper. He would have followed you to the mystic, Lady Bastet, and then killed her to keep you from discovering a truth he couldn’t manipulate. He then arranged the scene in a way that would compel you to investigate, to believe Marlow was responsible. By taking the vial of blood you’d given the mystic, Lich indebted you to the Order.” Connell air-quoted the word with his fingers. “He set you up for a punishment that would mean being sent here. Are you beginning to understand how the regime of warnings and threats work? The residue he left on the cats—”

“Led me to Marlow,” I cut in defiantly.

“—led you to wherever Lich wanted you to go,” he finished. “It was Lich who spoke through your cat, pretending to be Marlow. Only when you arrived here did he have the spell actually lead you to Marlow.”

How in the hell did Connell know so many details? Had he drawn them from me during the five days I’d been out? Was he in my head now?

“We know these things because of your demon,” he said.

“Thelonious?” I blurted out.

“No, he’s not with you enough. I was referring to your cat.”

I shook my head. “There’s no way Tabitha is working for you.”

“Of course not,” Connell said with a chuckle, as though he knew her as well as I did. “Not willingly, anyway. Tabitha inhabits a cat’s body, but she also resides in a shallow demonic plane. A plane we’ve been able to tap into. Most of what she sees and hears in your presence, we can access and decipher.”

“Then how come you didn’t know I was coming?” I challenged.

“The energy around the safe house had a scrambling effect. We could no longer interpret what we

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