“This conversation has made it abundantly clear,” said Church, “that you have information that is likely crucial to one of our ongoing operations. I have never used MindReader to intrude into Oracle, and I would prefer not to.”

The threat hung in the air.

“No. You tell me what’s going on. Why is your man Ledger taking meetings with Jalil Rasouli.”

“I want your word that this will be a fair and free exchange, Lilith. No games, okay?”

Instead of answering the question, Lilith said, “The shooter tracking Captain Ledger is my daughter.”

Church sat back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment.

“You put her in the field?”

“Of course I put her in the field. That’s what she has trained for.”

“Have you told her?” asked Church. “Does she know who her father is?”

Lilith took a moment, and when she spoke her voice was bitter. “She knows. Telling her was the cruelest thing I have ever done.” She paused. “But I don’t need to tell you about breaking a daughter’s heart, do I?”

Church sighed again. “That’s unkind, Lilith. I do what I do to protect Circe from who and what I am.”

“So, she doesn’t know who her father is?”

“She knows enough,” said Church. “I don’t see any benefit in doing her any additional harm.”

Lilith snorted. “And now she works for you. Do your people know that she’s your daughter?”

“Only those who need to know,” he said. “And that topic is closed.”

“Very well,” said Lilith. “Now tell me about Ledger and Rasouli. What was on that flash drive?”

Church told her.

Chapter Fifty-one

Chapter Fifty-One

Kingdom of Shadows

Under the Sand

June 15, 11:29 a.m.

“Your son is dead, Father,” said Albion, the eleventh of Grigor’s sons. “My brother is dead.”

Those were the words that still burned in Grigor’s mind.

Your son is dead.

Delos. The sixth of his sons to be born without genetic flaw. The sixth to receive Dr. Hasbrouck’s genetic therapy.

Delos. Grigor’s pride. One of his most trusted warriors. One of the elite even among the Red Knights.

His son.

His son was dead.

Grigor’s rage was a terrible thing, but it was not evident. The storms that broke and howled were not physical things, they could not be felt or seen. There was no outward sign of it. Not unless someone could look into the bottomless crimson depths of his eyes.

Even though he wanted so badly to shriek out his fury, to burst listening ears with his cries, he sat in stillness.

LaRoque had made him send one of his sons to his death.

A knight.

One of the pure ones.