Satisfied that he had himself firmly under control, he went to the concealed gate and opened it. He moved out of the maze and waited until the gate closed, leaving no visible trace of its existence. When it was back in place, the only thing that could be seen was the vine-covered brick wall that surrounded the maze.

He and Barrow were the only ones who knew of the various concealed exits. As far as the students were concerned there was a single point of entry and exit. It was never a good idea to let the students in on all the master’s secrets. Bad for discipline. Also dangerous. There was always the risk that an ambitious apprentice, exulting in his newfound powers, might toy with the notion of taking the master’s place.

Spode arrived at the entrance of the cave in time to see Barrow and the Messenger climbing the steps. His heart nearly failed him when he realized they were alone. There was no sign of the oracle. He wanted to howl his despair to the skies.

Fuck.

He had his emotions firmly in hand when the Messenger reached the top of the steps.

“I have bad news, sir,” he said.

His name was Fletch. Like the other eight students currently in training, he no longer used his last name. Also like the others he was young—nineteen. When Spode had found him on the streets of Seattle a few months ago, Fletch had possessed some minimal talent for aura reading. It was probably one of the things that had kept him alive. The enhancement process had endowed him with a second talent that was still developing: the ability to fire one of the old Vortex weapons. He was not yet able to make it work properly, but he was getting there. In the meantime, he had become proficient with a regular pistol.

“Obviously the news is bad,” Spode said. He was careful to keep all emotion out of his voice.

Barrow appeared at the top of the steps. He shook his head, saying nothing. The grim despair in his eyes said it all. They were both dying. The students would start dying soon, too; they just didn’t know it yet. There was no point telling them. It would affect their performance. They needed to stay mission focused.

“We can talk in the gazebo,” Spode said.

He led the way to the fanciful structure perched on the cliff overlooking the dark, cold waters of Puget Sound. In the distance a pod of orcas was on the move. Apex predators. The animals’ high-speed leaps out of the water signaled a hunt in progress. He and Barrow had once been apex predators, too. Now they were weak and dying before their time. Just like the first Piper.

He sat down on a bench. Barrow sank down on the seat across from him. Fletch remained on his feet. He looked anxious.

“What went wrong?” Spode asked.